“Bat,” Lily said, pushing her sunglasses onto the top of her head.
Dru did the same, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom.
Neither of them moved for several moments.
Light through the broken-paned windows shafted the worn pine floor, turned the dust they’d disturbed into glittering swirls. Across the room, a carved cane-bottom rocker, surprising in its delicate stature, sat before the yawning, blackened maw of a rough-hewn limestone fireplace. The chair looked out of place. Dru would bet there was a story in it, one that would intrigue her. She would have asked about it under other circumstances, if she and Lily were friends, say. If they were here for any other reason than to hunt for Lily’s son, who might be a danger or endangered. Which of the scenarios was the correct one was the million-dollar question.
There were two bedrooms on either side of the front room, and Dru and Lily looked in both of them. In the second one, a pretty, old four-poster bed, missing a foot post and its mattress, was pushed against the far wall. Along with the rocker, the bed was the only other furniture in the house. There was no sign of AJ. No indication he had been here, or that anyone had, not in a long time. Walking out, Dru noted that her footprints and Lily’s were the only ones tracking the dust on the floor. And outside, only the tread from the Jeep’s tires, and their own shoes, matted the scruffy apron of grass that led to the cabin’s door. She glanced at Lily and was startled to find her looking back.
“Are you going to tell her?”
Dru looked into the field across the road. The wind bent the hip-high grass, roughing it into dry waves. “I wish I could protect her.” Dru brought her gaze back to Lily.
They considered each other, and the understanding of how alike they were as mothers in their desire to shield their children—for they are always your children, regardless of age—arced between them.
Lily said, “You know she could hear it elsewhere—on the news, if they get around to it.”
“I’m going to tell her,” Dru said. “I wanted to do this for her, though, come with her here—to give her support, let her see for herself—” She looked off again, not saying the rest—that her fear was that once Shea knew of the pregnancy, she’d be angry at Dru. Shea would assume it made Dru happy having her low opinion of AJ confirmed when nothing could be further from the truth.
“Have they done a DNA test? They know for certain AJ is the father?”
“Not yet. Joy said it could be days, even weeks, before the test results are in.”
If Lily was relieved, she didn’t say. Instead, she mentioned the old railroad trestle. “It’s close by. Erik and AJ used to go there when they were kids.” She lowered her sunglasses, covering her eyes, and pulled the car keys from her pocket. “I’ll take you back to the house first. You can wait for Shea there. I think we’d both be more comfortable.”
Lily’s clipped tone as good as said she didn’t want Dru’s company any longer, and it rankled. “It’s not personal, you know.” Dru addressed Lily over the Jeep’s roof.
“What isn’t? Your dislike of my son, or your wish that he’s dead, as dead as Becca.”
“Oh my God! I never said—you can’t deny AJ has—” Dru hesitated. “Issues. He’s not the only one to come back from Afghanistan, from war, damaged, and it concerns me. Yes, it does, for my daughter, her well-being, her safety and happiness. It’s not AJ’s fault this happened to him. We’re not—the United States should do more to help our veterans.”
“Our veterans? What do you know about them, Dru? Shea didn’t enlist. She’s never risked her life to save others the way AJ did. Does that sound like the action of a murderer to you? Would someone who put his life on the line the way AJ did, time and again, come home only to kill someone, a pregnant woman?” Lily huffed a breath, agitated by disgust, the huskier undernote of withheld tears.
“I know you don’t want to believe it, but he could have suffered a break, a psychotic break. It happens.”
“AJ isn’t capable—”
“My ex-husband, Rob, Shea’s father, suffers from PTSD,” Dru said. She didn’t want to bring it up, not any part of her personal life, but she felt pushed to do it. “His experience wasn’t the result of going to war. He was assaulted and robbed. The thugs who attacked him beat him to within an inch of his life. As horrible as his physical injuries were, they were the least of it. He had night terrors. He was paranoid. He thought everyone was out to get him, even me. He bought several guns, one for every room of the house. He slept—when he did sleep, it was with a .357 under his pillow, one eye open, one foot—”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have time—”
“One night he heard me in the kitchen.” Dru kept talking. “I’d gotten up because Shea wasn’t feeling good, and I’d been in to check on her, then came downstairs to make myself some warm milk and honey. My ex claimed he thought I was an intruder, that I’d broken into the house to rob him. He had a shotgun and threatened me with it. Shea heard us, and when she came downstairs, Rob didn’t know who she was, either. He could have killed us, he was that out of it. To this day I’m not sure why he didn’t.”
“My son is missing, Dru, possibly injured or worse.” Lily’s eyes on Dru’s were hard. “I need to keep looking for him.”
“I never would have believed Rob was capable of violence, if I hadn’t been there, seen it with my own eyes.” Dru paused, fighting a dirty wash of emotion. “I loved my husband with my whole heart,” she said softly. “I still do. He was the one for me. Our marriage wasn’t perfect; he wasn’t perfect, but up until the assault, he was—was a great guy. Maybe if after the assault he’d talked to me—to someone, but he didn’t. He withdrew, went into himself. When he looked at me, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.” Dru sought Lily’s glance. “If one act of violence can so irrevocably change someone, I can’t begin to imagine the emotional effect of multiple acts of violence such as what soldiers experience during war.”
Lily averted her glance. It had gotten to her, though, Dru’s story. She could sense that Lily knew her point exactly. Lily wouldn’t admit it, though. She wasn’t going to come out and say AJ had PTSD, and that he may have, like Rob, lost touch with reality and become a danger to others and maybe to himself.
Dru got into the Jeep. “It’s not that I don’t feel compassion,” she said, “because I do.”
Lily keyed the ignition, not acknowledging if she’d even heard Dru.
“I’ll ride with you to the railroad trestle,” Dru said.
“All right, then,” Lily said. “The old well house is a few miles farther on. I’m going there, too.”
There were other buildings, Lily said, additional well houses, sheds, and the like; it would take days to search them, and Dru sensed that by talking, Lily was determined to ignore the rancor between them. Or possibly she was intent on drowning it out.
“AJ knows the ranch as well as my dad does,” Lily said. “He could be any number of places.”