When he pushed back his chair and stood up, so did Joe. He said, “It’s time we took the gloves off.”
Crawford raised an eyebrow.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Joe said.
“Yeah, I know what you’re talking about. But you’ve had years to get things off your chest, and you chose tonight? Now? Lousy timing, Joe. Can’t your grievances keep for at least one more day?”
“No, because I don’t want to be blamed later for not giving you fair warning.”
“Of?”
The older man propped his hands on his hips in the stance of a victor. “You played my ace for me today. You scored a goal for the opposing team.” He gave a short laugh. “I’ve been trying to come up with a way to beat you on this thing, and damned if you didn’t do it for me.”
“This thing being the custody dispute?”
“What dispute?” he sneered. “There won’t be a dispute after your grandstanding today.”
“I wasn’t grandstanding. I was trying to prevent—”
“What you did was take a loaded weapon off a fallen officer and chase after a crazy man. Those courthouse employees that you encountered on your way up to the roof? They interviewed two of them on TV. Neither saw the man in white, but both said you scared the bejesus out of them.”
Crawford turned toward the door. “Tell Grace I’ll check on her in the morning.”
“Hear me out.”
Crawford came back around.
“I didn’t like you from the minute Beth brought you to meet us.”
“That’s not exactly a news flash.”
“I disliked you on sight.”
“On sight? Why? You didn’t even know me, so what did you have against me? That I was younger and stronger than you? Mr. Top Gun suddenly had competition for Beth’s affection?”
“I saw right off that you weren’t a man I would want to command.”
“No,” Crawford said. “What you saw right off was that I was a man you couldn’t command. That’s why you formed an instant dislike.”
“Beth saw dashing and daring. I saw reckless. And I was right. Your recklessness got her killed.”
Crawford had said as much to himself during booze-fueled self-analyses. More recently, he’d confessed his corrosive guilt to the therapist. But it was devastating to hear the words from his father-in-law’s mouth and to know with certainty that, although he and Grace hadn’t openly condemned him, they held him responsible for the loss of their only child.
Joe aimed his index finger at him. “Your derring-do robbed me of my daughter, but it’s going to win me custody of my granddaughter. Permanent custody this time. I’m going to fight you tooth and nail. And, after your antics today, I’m assured a win.”
By the time the detectives finished interviewing Crawford Hunt, Holly was already exhausted just from sitting and awaiting her turn. Then she was in the interrogation room for an hour, giving her official statement and providing detailed answers to their questions, many of which related to Mr. Hunt’s actions. It was nearing two a.m. when she finally arrived home.
As she’d promised Mrs. Briggs, she requested a police escort home, and, actually, she was grateful for the pair of officers who followed her in their patrol car, then walked her to her back door and saw her inside.
She lived in the guesthouse of a secluded two-acre estate belonging to a friend of the late Judge Waters. The cottage was quaint, charming, and surrounded by lush landscaping. Tall azalea bushes and dense evergreen hedges separated it from the main house, partially screened it from the street, and kept her backyard completely obscured.
Ordinarily she relished the privacy the place afforded, but as she bade the officers good-bye, she would have preferred, for tonight only, having neighbors close by. Feeling on edge and vulnerable, she shot the bolt on the back door, then went through the rooms checking closets and behind interior doors to ensure that no masked man in white coveralls was lying in wait. Her search yielded nothing, of course, and she ridiculed herself for being such a ’fraidy cat.
He’s dead.
Nevertheless, no matter how many times she repeated that to herself, the image of distorted features behind a clear mask stayed with her, and she knew it would for a long time.
Still nervous, she reconsidered calling Mrs. Briggs, but talked herself out of it. She would insist on coming over, and that would make Holly feel like a ninny.
Calling Marilyn was another option. Even at this hour, she would probably be up. But Holly lacked the energy to engage with Marilyn tonight, who was overbearing even at the best of times.