“I’m not sure yet. The same reason I don’t know why you lied to the police in your statement.” Klein focuses his attention on twisting the metal ring around his pinky finger, but I know he’s acutely aware of my every twitch.
I should tell him everything. Unload this burden off my chest. Let the FBI do something with it. Something I surely can’t. That’s sounding better and better. But first I need to talk to Silas. He’s always been my voice of reason. And this affects him, too.
A thought strikes me. If my mother was directing Klein toward Mantis, it’s because he wasn’t after him in the first place. “Who are you trying to arrest?”
Klein shrugs noncommittally. “Another case. Another criminal your mother could have helped put away, but didn’t. She has a real problem with seeking justice, doesn’t she? Not exactly a good quality for a police chief.”
FBI agent or not, I’m not about to sit here and listen to him trash-talk my dead mother. “Sounds like you should be busy going after this Mantis guy. Don’t let me stop you.” I stand, giving Cyclops’s leash a small tug toward the motel’s entrance.
“What did you need to give Gracie Wilkes?” Klein calls out.
My feet falter. “What are you talking about?”
“Her neighbor said you came to give her something.”
Sims, that piece of shit. “Some old family pictures.”
“You drove twelve hours to give old family pictures to her? You sure about that?”
His tone puts me on edge. It’s like he already knows about the money.
“Have a good night, Klein.”
“So, if I were to go into that motel room, I wouldn’t find anything suspicious at all?”
A bag of ninety-eight thousand dollars that is too coincidentally the same amount written on that news clip to be at all coincidental.
But, most importantly, he’d find Gracie, and then she’d quickly realize that I left out the part about the feds coming to see me the other day. It was fully intentional on my part, and—probably—the wrong decision, but I already know Gracie enough to know she’d hold me at knifepoint until I gave her Klein’s business card. She’d have no issue telling him everything, including her own suspicions about my mother.
“You’d find a sick woman who needs her rest. I think you’ve already scared her enough for one day, don’t you?”
He pauses, as if to consider that. “When will you be back in Austin?”
“As soon as I help Gracie get Dina into a rehab program and find a new place to live.”
Klein eases himself off the bench to stand next to me, and I sense his mood shifting. “Lying to a police officer in a statement carries a maximum of six months in prison. That’s a criminal record, Noah. But you know all this, working in the DA’s office. Then again, I’m guessing your uncle would do what he needs to do to make the charges go away.”
I swallow. “Have a safe trip back.”
“Of course, he’d have a hard time doing that, what with all the media attention around you being a homicide suspect—”
Homicide? I’m unable to keep my cool anymore. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“So who put you up to it? Who wanted Jackie out of the picture?”
I feel my face twist up as I struggle to grasp his meaning. Because he can’t be saying what I think he’s saying . . .
“Jackie was so drunk, I’ll bet she didn’t even see you coming until the gun was—”
My fist connects with Klein’s mouth, needing the vile words to stop. “I did not kill my mother!” I force out through gritted teeth.
I did, however, just punch an FBI agent in the face and, dammit, if he didn’t have cause to arrest me before, he does now. Smart bastard.
Klein tests his lip with the back of his hand. It comes back with blood. Oddly enough, though, he doesn’t look at all surprised, and he hasn’t made a move for his cuffs. “I know how to push your buttons, don’t I?” He produces a business card from his back pocket. “Here . . . in case you lost my other one. You’ve got forty-eight hours to sort out things with Dina Wilkes, and then I expect you to contact me and tell me everything you know. After that, when I show up on your doorstep, it’ll be a lot less pleasant than this talk. For you, and for anyone who’s hiding information from me.”
I numbly take the card.
With one last sharp look, Klein strolls away, ducking into a dark-colored sedan.
I exhale a lung’s worth of air slowly. Is this what my mom meant when she talked about having the feds breathing down her neck being the worst pressure?
Because I get it now.
* * *
I peek into the adjoining room. Gracie is curled up in the chair, her head resting on the armrest. Fast asleep.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Dina offers me a weak smile and beckons me in with a limp wave of her hand.
“Do you need anything?” I whisper.
“No. Thank you, Noah.”
The wrappers from the oyster crackers that came with the broth sit empty on her nightstand. “Good. You ate.” I move to collect them.
“Noah! What’d you do to your hand?”
I stretch my fingers out in front of me, studying my reddened knuckles. I haven’t punched a guy since high school; it was some punk who was picking on a disabled kid out in the parking lot. I feel only marginally bad about hitting Klein, mostly because the guy didn’t have warning. He definitely deserved it, though. “Banged it. It’s nothing.”
I toss the trash into the bin in the corner, feeling Dina’s gaze on me the entire way.
“Abe always said that if we didn’t end up having a son of our own, he’d be just as happy having you around. He loved you so much.”
A lump swells in my throat. I nod, unable to come up with a suitable response.
“When do you think you’ll be leaving to go back to Texas?”
“Tomorrow morning. I need to talk to my uncle.” And find out what Maxwell was doing fourteen years ago that would explain why Abe jotted his name down on that news clipping.
And I need to do that all before my forty-eight hours are up.
“Silas . . .” A weak smile touches Dina’s face. “He’s the district attorney now. How’s he doing?”
“Good, all things considered. He’ll be running for District Court judge in the next election and he’s basically a shoo-in.”
“I thought about going to him. Telling him about the intruder. But then I realized that no matter what I did, it wasn’t going to bring Abe back, but it could mean losing Gracie, too. That man . . . it’s been fourteen years and I still feel his hand around my throat when I close my eyes.”
My gaze skates over the needle marks in her forearm. Gracie called Dina weak. But is she? Because some could argue that she’s one hell of a strong lady, to bite her tongue all these years to protect her daughter. And maybe biting her tongue turned her into this.
She twists her wrist to hide the marks. “I’m glad you have Silas.”
“And I’m glad she has you.” I nod toward Gracie.
“For whatever that’s worth.” Dina takes in a deep, almost exaggerated breath. “I can’t explain this feeling. It’s like . . . I’m finally feeling sun against my face again, after so long.”
“That’s because you’ve been alone in all this. But you’re not anymore.”
Tears well in her eyes. “If anything happens to her—” Her voice cracks. With effort, she rolls her head to settle her gaze on her peacefully sleeping daughter for a long moment. Gracie’s features look so soft in slumber, almost childish. I never noticed her thick fringe of dark lashes before, too busy mesmerized by her penetrating gaze.
“Abe and I never had it easy. It seemed like for every person who accepted us, there were two looking at us with disapproval. Because of Abe’s skin color. Or mine. Or our skin colors, together. I remember rocking Grace as a baby, holding her in my arms, worrying about what her life would be like. How people might treat her. How they might punish her because I fell in love with her father. Seems like the least of our problems, doesn’t it?” Her hard swallow fills the room. “She grew up to be so beautiful. And strong.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I look down as I agree with Dina, afraid that she’ll see the thoughts I’ve been having about Gracie these past two days. “And she needs you, alive and clean.”