“WHERE WERE YOU?”
Lana walked in exhausted from the ordeal with Paul and the cops, ready to yank off her wig and flop into bed like a dead fish. Instead, she was accosted by a raging woman with a grocery bag who bore an uncanny resemblance to her daughter.
But it couldn’t be Beth. Her daughter was like a hermit crab: able to defend herself if provoked, but lacking a killer instinct. Lana ticked through her mental Rolodex of past fights—the big ones—full of operatic shouts, thrown chairs, and door-slamming accusations. Plenty started by her ex-husband. A few launched by fiery boyfriends and business associates. None by Beth.
“Ma? Where have you been?” Beth repeated.
Lana smiled lazily and kicked off her heels. “I’m not your daughter.”
Beth banged a case of Diet Coke down onto the counter. “I know that. My daughter is out on the back porch, doing her chemistry homework. My daughter came home from school on time. And when my daughter noticed you weren’t here, weren’t answering your phone, she called me. And I raced home early from work to find that my mother with cancer was indeed missing. So I went to get groceries and look for you in ditches along the road while my daughter waited here, wondering what the heck had happened to her grandma.”
Beth started shot-putting cheese sticks into the fridge. Lana cautiously stepped past her to the table.
“And what the hell are you wearing?”
Lana turned and threw back her shoulders. “This, my dear, is Armani.”
Beth snorted. “You had a board meeting?”
“Of course not. I was at lunch.”
“With a lawyer?”
“No. Someone better. Jack’s employer. Paul Hanley.”
Beth said nothing.
“And I talked with the detectives. The Kayak Shack is reopening this Sunday. I’ve arranged for Jack to have a police escort that day, to keep her safe. The female detective. Ramirez. It’ll give Jack a chance to prove she wasn’t involved.”
It was at this moment Beth snapped.
She stormed over to Lana, Diet Coke in hand. For one terrifying moment, it appeared that Beth might swing the soda can directly into her mother’s perfect right cheekbone. Instead, Beth slammed it onto the table. Foam spilled over, lapping at her clenched fist. Beth didn’t seem to notice.
“Ma. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I—”
“First you take off on a ridiculous date without telling anyone. With a guy who is at best unreliable, at worst some kind of mud flat murderer.”
“I’m sure he’s harmless.”
“You’re sure, huh? Did the detectives tell you not to worry about sweet little Paul and his killer life jackets?”
“No, of course not. Those detectives are idiots.”
“Idiots. Right.” Beth took a sip of soda, gathering energy from inside the can. “Have those idiots cleared Jack yet?”
“They say she’s still a person of interest, but I think—”
“You think? You didn’t think. You volunteered my daughter to take a detective out in a kayak on Sunday, before they’ve even figured out what happened to the dead guy, before they’ve stopped looking at Jack like she’s a teen assassin, before I’ve even given Jack permission to go back out there.”
“You’re being ridiculous. You should have seen how they went after Paul Hanley. They’re grasping at straws, giving everyone the third degree, and we’re just sitting here waiting for them to make a move. This is our move. A smart one. It gets the detectives to see Jack as an asset, not a suspect. And she’ll be safe with them.”
“Oh sure, she’ll be safe. Right up to the moment they get her in a trap. And then—”
“Jack has nothing to hide,” Lana said. “So there’s nothing to trap her in.”
“Are you really that naive? You think you can just order the sheriffs to do the right thing? They aren’t your employees. You don’t have power here.”
Lana refused to back down. “Jack wants to get back out there. You said yourself the slough is her second home. She needs it to be okay. She needs it to be safe. And if she gets to know the detective better, she might be able to help me solve the case.”
Beth put her soda back on the counter. Her voice went heavy like a heated cast-iron skillet, flames licking at the edges.
“You. Are going to solve the case.”
Lana gazed back, steady.
“You. Who can barely get out of bed. Who can’t even finish a crossword puzzle. Who is afraid to drive.”
“You said I could help,” Lana said.
“I said you could get her a lawyer.”
“And I can. But this is different. Better.”
“The only thing different is that the world no longer revolves around you, Ma. You know why Jack calls you Prima, right? Well, you aren’t the star of this show. This is my house. Jack is my daughter. And—”
“Why won’t you let me help you, Beth?”
“You think that’s what you’re doing? Helping me? Like how you helped me move up here on my own when I was pregnant? Like when you sent gold-plated baby shoes instead of showing up yourself to give me a hand with Jack? Or maybe the way you’ve spent the last four months helping me see how far every single thing I’ve accomplished is from your impossible standards? If you want to help me, Ma, just stop. Just lie down on your European mattress and take your damn medicine.”
Lana couldn’t decide if it was the harshness of Beth’s words or her headache that made her want to sit down. But she stayed standing, staring at Beth, refusing to look away or give in to the part of her that did want to curl up in bed, take a pill, and go to sleep. She could feel her real self, her strong, hard self, grasping for a weapon she could use. Lana’s eyes swept the room, from the messy table to the new couch. And then to the back door, behind which Jack could probably hear their shouting.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Lana moved toward Beth and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Not of the sheriffs—it’s more than that. You’ve got this fantasy that you’re this perfect little team here, you and her against the world. You’re terrified of anything screwing that up. You’re afraid you’re going to lose your precious baby when she goes out and for once in her life does something you don’t want her to do. You’re scared that when she does that, she’s going to decide she likes being out in the world, she doesn’t want to hide in this dead-end town, she wants to be big and powerful and wholly on her own.”
“Don’t tell me what my daughter wants.” Beth’s hazel eyes were dark, her voice a low warning.
“I don’t have to! She’s telling you, if you’d take half a second to stop and listen.”
“You’re talking about you, Ma, what you want. But Jack isn’t like you. She’s a good girl.”
“That doesn’t mean you can control her.” Lana set her feet steady beneath her. “I had a good girl once too, you know. Before she ruined her life by getting pregnant.”
Beth blinked. She took one step back, then another. “Jack didn’t ruin my life, Ma,” she said, her voice filling the room. “She saved it. She got me out from under you.”
Beth grabbed her soda, turned, and speed walked to the front door. The latch clicked behind her.
Lana ran after her in stocking feet. She made it out to the front porch just in time to see Beth hurl the half-empty Diet Coke into the recycling bin, miss, then slam her car door and drive away.
Jack inched out from around the side of the house, keeping one hand on the stucco, as if it were helping hold her up. Lana saw her, but she didn’t say anything. She wrapped her thin arms around her torso and watched the soda bubble out over dry dirt, shriveling to nothing.