She pulled a twenty out of her wallet and handed it to him. “Order pizza or a sandwich.”
Tyler eyed the money, and she immediately saw what he was weighing. “Thanks,” he mumbled. She was interested in this new reluctance to take money from her; the humility of it was rather fascinating. Twice now he’d made conscious decisions about whether to put the money into his arm. Maybe he was changing. Or maybe he was acting out of guilt and regret. Well, he should.
Stop, Aubrey. Stop.
“Today?”
Meghan stood in the doorway, hand on a cocked hip.
“Sorry, Meghan. I’m coming.”
Meghan and Tyler stared at each other. Aubrey felt the intensity of their glares; the room practically crackled with animosity. She debated saying something, trying to smooth things over between them, shrugged and patted Winston’s head one last time.
“Come on,” she said to Meghan, took her by the arm and dragged her back to the car. There was no reason to share what she now knew about Tyler’s role in Josh’s disappearance. It wouldn’t change anything. It would hurt; Meghan wouldn’t be able to see past the new information, and would want to blame Tyler for everything.
Once they’d gotten in, Aubrey asked, “Why do you hate him so much?”
“It’s not hate. It’s disappointment.”
“What do you mean?”
Meghan shot her a glance. “He should have straightened himself out and helped you heal after Josh died. That’s all.”
“Oh. I never expected that from him, Meghan.”
“You should have. He was the closest thing to family you had.”
“I’m glad I have you. You’re my family,” Aubrey said, giving Meghan a squeeze on the arm. “And you are definitely a better cook than Tyler. I would have starved.”
The sun returned to Meghan’s smile and the flame to her eyes. “So, we’re off to dear old Mummy’s house. I bet you there are wire hangers all over the place.”
And Aubrey thought, You have no idea.
CHAPTER 44
Aubrey had always felt nervous in Daisy’s home. Even with Tom’s sanction, it seemed wrong to be snooping in the woman’s things. But this was important, and Aubrey reminded herself that it might all be a moot point anyway, especially if Daisy didn’t make it.
She was almost glad for the distraction. After Tyler’s revelation, she’d taken to checking her email every five minutes—she’d actually set up the mail account on her phone. She hadn’t been using that function; she never used her phone to access the Internet anymore. It was something she’d tried to instill in her kids at school, too: if you need information from the Internet, do so at a computer, not your phone. She hated watching people walk around with their eyes glued to their palms, bumping into people because they were so absorbed in their own little worlds that they couldn’t interact with reality anymore.
She had morphed into the worst kind of hypocrite. Like an ex-smoker who eschewed any contact with their old lifestyle. She used to use her phone all the time. Maybe she had texting PTSD. And really, who could blame her?
She checked it again, saw nothing new. No surprise there. In the After, Aubrey didn’t have a lot of contact with people. Very few emails, and those only from good friends and spammers. She’d closed her Facebook account, and had never been on friendly terms with Twitter. She had her habit: she checked her email once a day, usually preceding writing a note to Josh. She told herself she was fighting the rising tide of technology, but the truth was, she never felt safe online. She felt so . . . exposed.
“You expecting a call?” Meghan asked.
Aubrey lied smoothly. “Just hoping for an update from Tom.”
Meghan had already broken into Daisy’s desk—she wasn’t going to waste any time. She turned around and eyed Aubrey. “What’s the sudden interest in this woman, Aubrey? She’s been nothing but a bitch to you for years. My God, she testified against you, did her level best to get you sent to jail for life. And here you are, acting like you actually care.”
Meghan was right. In all honesty, Aubrey didn’t know what had come over her since Daisy’s accident. Manning the late-night shift, trying to communicate, to help. Yes, Daisy hated her, but Aubrey liked to think she was the bigger person. She just hadn’t ever had an opportunity to show it. Or maybe it was Chase. Maybe opening her heart to someone had allowed her to forgive. Or, maybe, to find the final thing to sever all ties for good.
Die, bitch, just die.
Maybe not.
She arranged her face carefully. “Josh would want me to take care of his mother, Meghan. We’re here to dig into her life, not psychoanalyze my motivations. Did you find anything?”
Meghan stood up, her brow furrowed. “No. Nothing of use. Everything here is current, just tax stuff and phone bills and bank statements. Filing cabinet?”