Dru said he had. But she’d already heard about it. She didn’t know how the contents of the letter had come to light—there had been little local media coverage of the story—but it had sent shock waves through Wyatt. It wasn’t so much that Jeb Axel and Winona Ayala had been involved with each other for years. Most folks had figured that was the case. Some had even speculated that Erik was Jeb’s son. It was what Erik had done, the pure evil of his crimes that had people reeling. They couldn’t believe the boy who’d grown up near their town, who’d gone to Wyatt schools, the young man with the easy laugh who’d always been ready to help—the one who’d run the streets with their kids, for God’s sake—had murdered two of their own sweet girls.
How had it happened? What clues had they missed? Even Dru wondered. She thought of meeting Erik at the feed store when she’d needed advice on caring for donkeys. He’d been so congenial and patient with Kate and Shea and their giggling adoration of him. Like everyone else, she questioned herself, how easily she’d bought into Erik’s charm, been fooled by his good looks, his friendly demeanor. But as Lily had said when Dru ran into her outside in the hospital parking lot earlier, who could say what a murderer looked like?
Lily had said, too, that if anyone should have known about Erik, it was her. She’d been part of his life from the day he was born. Dru had advised Lily not to blame herself; she’d said how sorry she was for her misjudgment of AJ. Inexplicably, Lily had waved off Dru’s apology, and while Lily’s dismissal was a relief, Dru felt perplexed. How could Lily be so forgiving of her?
“I hope you can forgive me,” she said now to AJ. The press of tears and the opposing and sudden lift of her heart surprised her.
“Of course,” he said. “I hope one day you’ll be able to trust me.”
Dru found a tissue and wiped her eyes. “It could happen.” She smiled. “Maybe sooner than you think.”
Shea came to Dru’s side and embraced her. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispered.
Dru pushed her grocery cart up and down the aisles. She was out of almost everything. The last time she had shopped, she realized, was two weeks ago, on Tuesday, the day before Becca was found dead in AJ’s apartment. Her mind did that now. It split life into before and after, and while she found it comforting, this return to her ordinary routine, it also felt strange. When she thought of Joy and Charla and how their lives would never be the same, it made her heart ache. Dru was thinking of Winona Ayala, too—that her life had also been altered irrevocably by her son’s actions. Then, when turning the corner toward the deli counter, she caught sight of Win. She was behind a table, one of several food-sampling stations that were set up throughout the store. Win was giving out bite-size slices of tamales, speared on frilled wooden picks.
“You made these? I can buy them here?” a shopper, a man Dru didn’t recognize, asked.
“Yes,” Win said. She took a package from the cooler, offering it to him.
He took them. “Best damn tamales I ever ate,” he said.
Dru would always think later that it was hearing the man’s emphatic praise of Win’s tamales that set the plan she didn’t know she had into motion. As Dru approached Win, their eyes caught. Dru could see Win was startled; she shifted her glance toward a door behind the deli counter as if she might be pondering her escape.
“It’s okay,” Dru said, and it seemed laughable. It was doubtful that much in Winona’s life right now was okay, but Dru wanted to reassure her.
“You would like to try a sample?” Winona asked.
“I’d love to.” Dru helped herself and pronounced it delicious. “You’re selling your tamales through the store?”
“I just started. I am going to sell other things, too. Barbacoa, garnachas. I make the food fresh every morning. Most of it is Oaxacan, specialties I learned to make from mi abuela, my grandmother.”
“But you best get here before noon if you want to take any of it home.” A man—Dru recognized the store manager—spoke in passing.
“He tasted many samples before hiring me.” Winona’s smile didn’t quite lighten the shadow of grief in her eyes. Dru wanted to address it, the source of Winona’s sadness. She wanted to help Winona, to reach out to her. “Is it possible for you to take a break?” she asked. “We could have coffee, my treat.”
It surprised Dru, both her offer and that Win accepted it.
She needed a friend, she told Dru a bit later. They were sitting in Dru’s car with their coffee. Win had suggested it. People were generally kind, but they stared, she said. They talked behind her back. It was difficult, being at the store, but she had to work. Win told Dru she was living in town now in Erik’s old apartment.
“It is hard being there, but I have nowhere else. I can’t be at the ranch with Jeb. Not anymore.”
Dru didn’t press her. “There’s a small cottage on my property,” she said instead. “You could live there. You could come to work with me. I’ve been thinking about expanding my catering business, and I’d love to be able to offer your wonderful Oaxacan cuisine to my clients.”
Winona stared at Dru. “You are serious?”
“I am,” Dru said, and she realized she’d never been more serious. She felt a thrill of excitement. They sat talking for a long time, making a plan, working out the details.
“I can’t believe you are doing this for me,” Win said. “I didn’t know how I would get by.” She looked down into her foam cup, empty now. “It’s not only the money that I need.”
No, Dru thought. It was hard to think of all that Win was facing, the terrible events that lay in her future. The Dallas prosecutor assigned to Erik’s case was calling for the death penalty. According to news reports, Erik had refused Jeb Axel’s offer to cover his legal expenses, and he had only accepted the help of a court-appointed attorney under duress. That lawyer, who was from Greeley, the Madrone County seat, was citing mental defect as a defense. As a mother, Dru couldn’t begin to fathom how all of it would feel. Reaching out, she put her hand on Win’s arm.
“I love Erik,” she said softly. “He’s my son, and I will always love him, but I don’t know if I can forgive him.” She glanced at Dru and quickly away. “I hope to. It’s all I pray for. That and peace. Peace for Becca’s and Kate’s parents. Peace for us all.”
Dru looked through the windshield. It was a good prayer, she thought. Possibly the only prayer.
Later that afternoon, Shea was at the xL with AJ, and Dru and Amy were unloading Dru’s SUV, ferrying the tableware for Shea’s wedding reception on Saturday into the house when a car pulled up alongside the curb. Amy was at the foot of the porch steps and saw it first. “It’s Charla and Joy,” she said.
“Is Gene with them?” Dru turned to look.
“No. After what he did? He wouldn’t have the nerve.”
Dru had known, given Wyatt’s small size, that seeing them was inevitable, but she’d never imagined they would seek her out.
“Should I stay?” Amy asked.
“Yes, please. Otherwise things might get out of hand.”