“It’s parenthood, Lily, not perfecthood. At least that’s what I tell myself. You still have a chance with AJ. He’s still in your life.”
“If I do, so do you. You can find Charlie, talk to him.”
Edward turned to her, and she wasn’t sure what was in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t give out advice I’m unwilling to take.”
“You’re unwilling because it’s a risk. You don’t know how AJ will react.”
“No.”
“Having some connection with your son, or in my case, no connection, is better than confessing the truth and risking his hatred. Then it would be real, not something we only imagined.”
Although Edward had described how she felt, Lily didn’t answer.
“I’ve always thought life was a gamble. Maybe that’s my downfall, my Achilles’ heel, but to me, you either play and take your chances or sit on the sidelines, watching everyone else. That isn’t living, really.”
When Lily looked at him now, he smiled slightly, and an understanding that there would be risk involved in any undertaking to repair the damage they’d done as parents seemed to flare between them. There was an acknowledgment, too, of their frailty as human beings that was searing in its honesty and so visceral that Lily felt it as surely as if Edward had taken her hand. But it was clenched in her lap.
Time passed, a space of heartbeats she could feel in her ears.
The waitress came, and Edward asked for the check. When it was paid, he walked Lily out to her car.
“Would you like me to see what I can find out about the investigation?” he asked.
They’d reached her BMW, and turning to him, she said, “Would you?”
“Yes, but you realize it may not be good news. You know Becca Westin was pregnant.”
“Yes, and that her mother claims AJ and Becca were involved behind Shea’s back. If it’s true, and if AJ didn’t want the baby, it means he would have had a motive.”
“What Becca’s mother says is considered hearsay by the court. They’ll need DNA to prove paternity. Other than AJ’s laptop and cell phone that were found at the bus station, was anything else missing from his apartment?”
“His truck and his handgun, a .45.”
Edward looked out into the middle distance. “There was no sign of forced entry, I heard.”
“No. Paul thinks he’s a suspect because he has a key to the apartment, which is ridiculous.”
“Yeah, but it’s standard procedure, looking at family members. The way the girl was killed—” Edward paused. Do you know? The question was implicit in his eyes.
“She was stabbed,” Lily said.
“Eleven times, and she was choked, but there was no sign of ligature. Someone used their bare hands. They suspect she may have been sexually assaulted, too.”
“My God.” Lily felt light-headed. She felt her vision darken at its periphery, and she leaned against the car. Edward put his hand on her arm, and his touch steadied her.
“Whoever did it left a note.”
“A note?” This was a new detail to Lily.
“It was written—not in lipstick, the other stuff, the liner. It said, ‘Fixed you.’”
Lily took a moment, processing the words, Fixed you, running them through her mind. “They did fix her, didn’t they?”
“I want to help you and AJ,” Edward said after a moment, “but I don’t want to get too deeply involved, not unless Paul agrees.”
Lily nodded. She understood the risk. If Paul found out she’d met with Edward today, he might suspect there had been other occasions, if he didn’t already. But what was there to know? Lily wondered. Today was the first time Edward had touched her intimately. She still felt it, the weight of his fingertips resting in the hollow of her throat.
She was almost to the ranch when her phone rang. She pulled off the highway, digging it out of her purse, heart tapping with anticipation that possibly it was Edward. But then, seeing it was her dad, she was seized with anxiety. He’s found something, she thought.
“Dad?”
“Ah, thank God, Lily.”
“What is it? Did you find AJ? Is he all right?”
“No, no, I’m sorry. Nothing like that. The safe, here at the house—it was robbed.”
“What? Did someone break in?”
“Not exactly. I didn’t lock up before I left. Sometimes I don’t, you know, if I’m not going to be gone long.
You forgot. Lily didn’t say it. She rested her head on the seat back.
“They got your mom’s jewelry and about five thousand in cash I kept in there.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Yeah. They think because the safe wasn’t damaged, whoever got into it knew the combination. They think it was AJ.”
10
After Dru made the 911 call, she and the girls went into the great room to wait for the Wyatt police. Dru sat with Shea and Kate on the sofa, but Leigh and Vanessa paced. They were angry. Dru sensed they blamed Shea. She must have felt it, too, because she told them to go. “Mom and Kate and I can handle it,” she said, and while she was shaky and pale, there was a stubborn set to her jaw that Dru recognized.
“I’d like nothing better, trust me, but what if he’s out there?” Leigh asked.
“He?” Shea asked. “AJ? Do you mean AJ?”
“Your fiancé is off the ledge.” Leigh hurled the allegation at Shea, a small bomb.
“Shut up, Leigh,” Kate said.
“It’s not helping,” Dru said, keeping her voice low. You, she wanted to say to Leigh, you aren’t helping. She could slap the girl, she thought.
“Leigh’s right, though.” Vanessa—Ms. Big Mouth—spoke up. “He said he couldn’t stop, so who’s next? One of us?”
“My husband is worried sick,” Leigh said. “Connor wants me out of here. When I called him, he told me to make the cops bring me home. He said it’s not safe any other way.”
“I thought we were friends.” Shea’s glance darted between Vanessa and Leigh.
“We are.” Their protest was rendered in harmony.
“It’s just AJ—there’s something off about him.” Leigh softened her tone. Did she assume Shea would agree with her now? Dru wondered.
“You don’t see it,” Vanessa said, “and I get that. I mean, love is blind, right?”
Oh, they were so magnanimous in their judgment of Shea and her choices. Dru’s jaw tightened. That she, too, judged AJ wasn’t lost on her, but she wouldn’t club Shea over the head with it.
Thankfully, now, the far wall opposite the sofa was washed in a faint-hued rainbow of red-and-blue light, announcing the arrival of a squad car. Dru went to the front door, opening it. The sun was down, the light clear and mellow, and she was relieved to recognize Ken Carter exiting the driver’s side of the Wyatt patrol car. Amy’s brother. Someone familiar. Another officer, shorter than Ken, and heavier set, came with him.
“Patrol Sergeant Daryl Henley.” He introduced himself when Dru greeted him.
Turning to Ken, she said, “I’m sorry we’re meeting again under such circumstances.”
“I was real sorry to hear from Amy about the wedding,” he said.