She went solid and snapped her mouth shut.
“I can’t do it,” he continued. “Shouldn’t ’ve done it. Shouldn’t ’ve started it. Shit has a way of gettin’ complicated real quick, but Greta, babe, gotta admit, even with all Hope’s bullshit, you take the cake.”
She unfroze her mouth enough to start, “Can we—?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “No. Your mom, she’s a real gem, Greta. Pure class.”
“God,” she whispered, her expressive face filling with dismay.
Oh yeah.
She knew.
She knew all along.
Fuck him.
“Coulda saved me from that,” he told her. “Coulda at least given me a heads up so I wasn’t blindsided like that. Walked in there, no clue. Just an evening’s fun for an asshole and his piece.”
She winced.
“Yeah, it went like that,” he bit off.
“I’m so sorry, Hix. Let me—”
“I am too, Greta. But now I know so I can untangle things before they get too messy.”
To explain what he meant by that, Hix was only a step in the front door, so he only had to turn and reach to the handle to open it.
He looked over his shoulder at her.
“I’d say take care of yourself, but it was made clear to me you got an army to do that so I won’t bother.”
He gave her that.
Then he walked out the door.
Greta
I sat on my ass on the floor by my front door with my phone in my hand and I called her.
“Well, hello, my doting daughter,” Mom answered jovially.
God, I hated her.
Hated her.
“He was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry, baby girl, Momma can’t hear you,” she sing-songed.
“Better than Keith.”
“Is that so?” she asked happily.
“Yeah,” I pushed out.
“Well, sounds like someone should have paid their mother’s cable bill.”
“Actually, sounds to me like someone’s got herself a sugar daddy,” I returned.
“Greta, Greta, Greta,” she chanted with fake disappointment. “You just never listen to me. Like I told you many times before, a girl has to play all her angles.”
“Scratch this one.”
“Say what?”
“Scratch this one,” I repeated.
“Hmm . . .” She pretended to consider it then stated, “Maybe I don’t want to.”
“You’re dead to me.”
“Now it’s drama,” Mom muttered in exaggerated exasperation.
“You’re dead to Andy.”
That got me silence.
“I’ve already called,” I informed her. “Taken you off the visitor list. If you try to see him at Sunnydown, they’re going to call the police.”
“So you think Sheriff Drake will come after me?” she scoffed.
“I think, after whatever you did to him today, he’d enjoy that immensely.”
She’d obviously chewed him up, something I already knew, but she gave that to me too because her voice went nasty and threatening.
“You think you can keep me from my boy—”
Her boy?
He’d never been her boy.
I cut her off.
“You’re dead to me. You’re dead to Andy. Your reign of terror is over, Mom. Long past due. Now, I hope this one lasts a while because if he doesn’t, you . . . are . . . fucked.”
I drew in breath as she snapped, “Greta.”
“Goodbye, Mom.”
I hung up.
I then blocked her calls.
Hixon’s words invaded my brain.
No, sweetheart, all that is really fuckin’ simple.
“Guess you were wrong,” I murmured to the darkening room.
And it was then, silently, I started crying.
Last Straw
Hixon
“BLOOD’S CALLOWAY’S, NO surprise,” forensics’ John told Hix the next morning over the phone. “Fibers, carpet, already talked to Larry, says from what he’s seen of Faith Calloway’s home, they’re from there. Also says he’ll get samples just so we can check.”
“Right,” Hix muttered when John paused.
“Hairs,” John went on, “we got some that look like they’re probably Nat’s and seven long, light-brown ones we got off the driver’s and passenger’s sides that Larry says could be the wife’s, though he thinks she gets hers dyed and we know these aren’t, but we gotta run ’em. That last, Hix, think you know but sucks to remind you, it takes weeks to get DNA run, even on an active investigation. Sometimes months. Seein’ as this is so crucial to where you’re at in yours, I’ll try to see what pull I can get but everyone’s tests are crucial. So my suggestion is, see if you got county money in your budget to get private tests run. It’ll go a lot faster.”
“I’ll send a deputy up to get samples,” Hix replied. “It’ll be Bets. You met her. Elizabeth Rowe. She’ll be there sometime today.”
“Gotcha. Any luck with the convenience stores?” John asked.
“Maybe. Got a sketch artist going to Alliance today. I’ll be expediting that since the guy reports the man he saw was not only twitchy, he had long, light-brown hair.”
“Fuckin’ A, hope we nail this fucker,” John muttered.
“Yeah,” Hix replied. Something coming from the bullpen that set his eyes that way, and when he saw what it was, he set his jaw. “Gotta go. We’ll keep you informed.”
“Great, thanks, brother.”
They disconnected as Lou hit the door with Bets on her heels.
It was a busy day for a Saturday at McCook County Sheriff’s Department, and obviously not just because he and all his deputies were putting in overtime to catch a killer.
“Sorry, boss, I tried—” Bets started.
“It’s okay, Bets,” he said, eyes to Lou but he turned them to his deputy. “And since you’re here, need you to find time today to go up to Cherry and pick up some samples from forensics.”
“On my way to Alliance yesterday with Larry, I didn’t get a chance to deal with that other case and they didn’t come in,” she replied.
“Cherry first.”
She nodded, glanced at Lou and took off.
Hix didn’t even get up from his desk when he said to Lou. “This shit does not hit my office.”
“You’ll see,” she said quietly.
“Lou, seriously, I don’t think it’s lost on you—”
“You’ll see last night you made the biggest fuckin’ mistake in your goddamned life.”
Hix shut his mouth.
She turned to leave, and Hix started pulling in a big breath to alleviate his frustration but he stopped in the middle of it when she turned back.
He didn’t like the look on her face. It was worse than the pissed-off disappointment she’d been wearing before.
So he braced.
“Hear you’re lookin’ for a house,” she noted.
He didn’t respond.
“Probably gotta use that inheritance your uncle gave you.”
Hix grew alert.
That was the second time someone had mentioned that.
She shook her head then finally lost the control she’d been holding, if only by a thread.
“Poor, stupid, stupid Hope,” she spat.
And with that, she stormed out.
He didn’t watch her go.
He picked up his cell, went to Recent Calls, touched the name he needed and put the phone to his ear.
Greta’s answer was hesitant. “Hey.”
“Our shit is done. It doesn’t come to my office. It doesn’t exist in my life at all. Next person you run your mouth to, Greta, you let them know that.”
“Lou,” she muttered.
“Yeah,” he bit out.
“Listen, Hix, I didn’t know she was—”