Evelyn’s eyes cleared, then shuttered, as if she realized she’d said too much. Her answer gave nothing away. “After she moved to Cincinnati. After Father died, and Cameron went to college.”
Instinctively Max knew that wasn’t all that had happened to change Madeline Starr. “I’d like to find Cameron’s sister then. I know he’d want me to tell her.”
Evelyn Hastings looked at her with a closed face, lined with nothing more than age, but revealing not a scrap of emotion. “Cameron didn’t have a sister.”
Chapter Eleven
With a backward glance, Max looked to Witt, noted his concentration, and found comfort that he took in all the details like a recorder. Later, they’d dissect the scene together.
He would agree that Evelyn Hastings was lying. No, not lying, but telling a distorted truth. Because Max knew Cordelia Starr had existed. It wasn’t Cameron. It wasn’t the yearbook or the dream. It wasn’t that Cordelia had been a cheerleader, an honor student, and loved by her brother.
It was the pain in Evelyn’s eyes, the lips thinned with the need to hide her tears. And a sensation in Max’s gut, a psychic hunch, that Cordelia was closer than any of them suspected.
But why did Evelyn Hastings deny Cordelia’s existence? Why hadn’t the girl been mentioned in her grandfather’s obituary?
“Cameron told me he had a sister, Mrs. Hastings.”
“It’s Miss.” With a tightening of her lips, she admitted to spinsterhood without shame. “I can’t imagine why Cameron would tell you such a thing.” Her chin lifted. “He’d know better.”
Hmm, odd way of putting it. Getting nowhere fast, Max tried a different tack. “Cameron didn’t talk much about ... his childhood, about Michigan. What was he like back then?”
Evelyn put a hand to her mouth, and the soft light of fondness returned to her eyes. “How silly of me. I should have told you that right away. And I should have asked what he was like as a man.”
Max tipped her head. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“At Father’s funeral,” Evelyn said with a faraway gaze. “Madeline left for Cincinnati the day after.”
Something had happened. And it wasn’t only the death of Cameron’s grandfather.
“Cameron was seventeen,” Evelyn went on, stopping to put a hand to her mouth. “Or was it eighteen? I can’t quite remember now.” She leaned forward to retrieve her coffee, as if needing something to fill her hands. “He was always such a good boy. Never in any trouble. The best grades.” She looked into Max’s eyes then. “I don’t think I realized until this moment how much I missed him. Him most of all.”
More than her own sister or her father?
“I never had children, you see.”
Of course not, the woman was a spinster. Max understood. Cameron had been the closest thing to a son Evelyn ever had. Max didn’t offer condolences.
“Was he a good man?” the woman asked softly.
Max turned, her back to Witt, aware of the faint rustle of clothing as he shifted. She would give Evelyn what she wanted, but the uncomfortable twinge was for Witt.
“He was a good man. A lawyer, a prosecuting attorney. Some day he’d have run for DA or been a judge.” If he’d lived.
“Do you have children?”
The air in the room stilled. She couldn’t hear Witt breathe. It was a moment before she found the energy to answer. “No.”
A simple answer, said with as little emotion as possible, she didn’t elaborate. Their childless state was entirely her fault. She was barren. Cameron had wanted to adopt. She was terrified of children, of responsibility for another human being. They’d fought about it the night he died.
“But Cameron would have made a good father.” The problem had been that she’d make a shitty mother.
Evelyn pursed her lips, then took a deep breath, as if coming to a decision. Rising, she bent to set her cup on the table. “I’d like you to have something.”
Evelyn headed to the other end of the house, leaving Max alone with Witt and her own fear.
“You didn’t say you’d have made a good mother, Max.”
“She doesn’t want to know about me. She wanted to know about Cameron.”
“But did you want kids?”
She turned the question around on him. “What about you? Doesn’t look to me like you had them. And don’t tell me it was because your ex-wife wanted you to sit while you took a leak.”
“My mother’s been talking.” A heavy sigh. He saw the connection. Ladybird had revealed a bit more of the reasons for his divorce, probably more than Witt wanted revealed.
Max had been waiting for him to tell her what happened.