“I think I might be the happiest man on the planet.” He sobered. “You know, I didn’t mean—”
“You have every right to be happy.” Lily touched his arm. “Don’t let this ruin it, okay? Try not to.”
“When we get AJ back, get this mess straightened out, we’ll have the biggest damn celebration Madrone County ever saw. We’ll roast a half dozen pigs—”
Lily laughed. “Have leis flown in from Hawaii.”
“Wear hula skirts.” Erik got into the Lexus.
“Have you told your mom about AJ?” Lily asked when he powered down the window.
“Not yet.”
“I can’t believe she didn’t call and let me know about her mother’s death, that she was going down for the funeral.”
“Well, she wasn’t going to go, but then Jeb got on her. He knew she’d feel terrible if she didn’t.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“Once. Cell service down there can be pretty bad. I don’t want to tell her over the phone, anyway. It’s hard enough on her, being there, and I know she’s set on getting everything wrapped up so she doesn’t have to go back.”
“She is coming back? Here, I mean, to the xL?” Lily was suddenly seized with the fear that she wouldn’t.
“Sunday or Monday,” Erik answered.
Lily nodded. She couldn’t trust her voice; her relief made her want to cry.
“She’s going to be pissed at me for keeping her in the dark.” Erik looked through the windshield, thinking about it. “Not just about AJ, but Jeb, too. If Mom knew he collapsed, she’d be on the next flight.”
“It’s all right, though. I’d stay even if she were here.”
Erik nodded and keyed the ignition. “I’ll be back,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”
Lily checked on her father when she returned to the house and found him sleeping soundly on the sofa in his office. A lightweight throw was folded over the back, and she covered him with it. He looked defenseless, not at all like the tough guy Erik had described. She laid her hand softly on the ledge of his brow, his lean, furrowed cheek. She smoothed his silvery-white hair that floated from his head like dandelion fluff. He could be hard; he had a temper. She knew that, but she also knew his heart could be as soft as melted marshmallow.
Leaving him, she went upstairs to shower and wash her hair. He was still napping when she came back down. She wandered into the kitchen, thinking she could saddle Butternut and ride out again, maybe head east, check on Winona’s house. But it was likely Erik had already done that. Lily leaned on the counter. It was fruitless searching on her own, anyway, when she had no solid direction to go. Grabbing her cell phone, she went outside, onto the front porch, and sat in the swing. The afternoon air was thick and sultry, more like midsummer than spring, and it hung as heavy as the passing time. She was up, pacing, within seconds.
She’d seen news stories about families who had a loved one missing. They all said the same thing, that the waiting and the not knowing were hell. They described jumping every time the phone rang, at every knock on the door. They spoke of their feelings of helplessness and dread. Lily had never imagined she would be one of them.
Taking her phone from her pocket, she scrolled through her directory, and when she found the number she hadn’t intended to hunt for, she tapped it on the screen.
He picked up on the second ring. “Edward Dana,” he said.
Her knees weakened at the sound of his voice, and returning to the swing, she perched on its edge.
“It’s me,” she said.
8
Shea claimed she wasn’t hungry after they left the xL, but Dru stopped at Crickets, the café on the square in Wyatt, anyway, and bought a chicken salad sandwich. Getting back in the car, she handed the sack to Shea. “I only got one,” she said. “We can share it.”
“Fine,” Shea said.
Ha! Dru thought.
Nothing was fine, but Shea had informed her mother on leaving the xL that she wasn’t going to participate in “a bunch of speculation” about AJ and why his laptop and phone had been found at the bus station. It isn’t speculation. Dru had clenched her teeth to keep from saying it. It was an irrefutable fact from which only one conclusion could be drawn—that AJ had been at the bus station, and now he was gone, on the run. Dru wheeled into the flow of traffic.
Becca was pregnant! The words bit at her mind like flies. Why couldn’t she say them and have done with it? But neither she nor Shea spoke. Even after they were parked in back of the house and Dru had turned off the ignition, they sat in silence, staring straight ahead. The windshield framed a view of the deck that was furnished with two wicker chaise longues, a vintage iron table, and three iron chairs, all different styles. Dru hadn’t found a fourth chair with the right character. She looked at Shea.
“What?” The syllable was wary. Shea was poised to run defense, an end game around whatever Dru said.
“I’ve got to tell you something,” Dru began.
Musical notes chimed from inside Shea’s purse, and she fumbled inside it for her phone.
Dru’s heart began to pound. It was becoming routine every time a phone rang.
“Dad?” Shea said. Opening the car door, she stepped out, glancing at Dru, shrugging slightly.
Dru watched her walk onto the deck, settle on the edge of a chaise longue. Picking up the lunch sack, she went into the house. She wondered if Rob had heard what was going on, if that was what had prompted his call. But it was doubtful. The Houston media had a surfeit of its own crime stories to cover.
She had divided the sandwich and set the halves on each of two plates when Shea came inside.
“Want a glass of iced tea?” Dru asked. “It’s raspberry.”
“Did you talk to Dad?”
“Not in several days. Why?”
“Because he’s just like you. He thinks AJ killed Becca, and he’s a fugitive now.”
“He said that? I didn’t think he would have—”
“This is like the first thing in years I’ve ever heard you and Dad agree on. Go figure.”
Dru brought the plates to the table, then fetched the glasses of tea. “Come and eat,” she said.
“Becca was pregnant,” Shea said, sitting down.
Dru stared at her.
“Dad was at a sports bar at lunch. It was on the noon news. You know it, though, don’t you? Becca’s mom told you.”
“Oh, honey.” Dru sat across from Shea. “I should have told you. I just couldn’t—”
“It’s not AJ’s.”
“Well, the DNA—”
“I don’t need DNA to tell me the baby wasn’t AJ’s. Just the same as I don’t need hard evidence to know he isn’t a killer. He’s in trouble, Mom. Either that, or he’s—” Shea broke off, crossing her arms tightly over her midsection.
Dead.
The word resonated, seeming more horrible for being unspoken.
“Does his mom know—about the pregnancy, I mean?” Shea asked.
“I told her,” Dru admitted. She thought how alike in their denial Shea and Lily sounded.
“Becca’s mom—What did she say? She doesn’t think it’s AJ’s, does she?”