Mom nodded and her voice sounded distant when she said, “They did. It was Becky Fisher’s husband. Held him for several days until they released him, because they didn’t have any evidence.”
“And because Jessica Rae disappeared,” I said, rubbing my hands over my arms, chilled. “That was before people realized that when another woman disappeared, the other one was already dead, but everyone figured it out pretty quickly after that.”
Twisting toward me, Mom said, “Sasha.”
I bit down on my lip. “This is just too—”
“Coincidental,” Jason cut in, and my gaze went to him. “Look, all I am saying is that we might be jumping the gun here, assuming the worst. Not that anyone could blame anyone for doing it, but if Angela really is missing and that’s somehow tied to the woman from Frederick, then we’re dealing with a . . .” He took a deep breath. “Then we’re dealing with another serial killer, and what is the likelihood of this area having not one but two serial killers?”
I jolted, seriously unnerved. It wasn’t because of Jason, but what he said. Two serial killers. Pushing away from the counter, I snagged the mug and went to the sink.
“It’s probably not related, and Angela will show up tomorrow.” Miranda smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t believe it.
And I didn’t think any one of us did.
Conversation moved to some kind of drama Miranda was sensing at work. She didn’t know the details, but there’d been a lot of closed-door after-school conversations taking place. It started to get late, and Miranda and Jason moved to leave.
“I’ll see you later.” Jason leaned in, giving me a stiff one-armed hug that made me grin, because he was pretty terrible at hugs. “Walk you out?” he said to Miranda.
“Normally I’d tell you that wouldn’t be necessary, because I can kick ass.” Miranda hopped off the counter. “But I’m officially freaked out, so you can totally walk me out.”
“Be careful,” I told them. “Both of you.”
Miranda saluted me. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re a closet drinker,” muttered Jason.
“I’m an in-your-face drinker,” she replied, and Jason just shook his head as he walked her out of the kitchen, his hand on her lower back. My brows lifted. Was there something going on between them? If there was, I imagined Miranda would’ve said something. Why wouldn’t she?
I stood there for a moment. “I’m going to lock up behind them since the Mattersons are here.”
“Okay, honey.” Mom rose from the table. “But please come back. I want to talk to you for a moment.”
Nodding, I left the room and went to the front door with my hands pressed against the cool wood.
Two serial killers.
The air in my throat caught, and I opened up the front door, staring out over the lawn. The porch light and the lamp cast a soft glow that did nothing to chase away the shadows. Tiny bumps raced across my skin and the fine hairs at the back of my neck rose. Stepping back, I quickly closed the door and locked it like there was an ax murderer racing up the drive.
Mom was back at the table when I returned, all the coffee mugs washed out and placed in the dishwasher. She patted the table, and I walked over, sitting across from her. “How are you hanging in there?” she asked.
Biting my lip, I shook my head. “Tomorrow marks one week back home, and . . .” I lifted my hands helplessly before dropping them to the table. Talking about how I was dealing felt wrong when one woman was already dead and Angela was missing. “This isn’t about me. You shouldn’t be worried about me.”
“Honey, I know that.” Reaching across the table, she folded her hand over mine. “But I am worried about you.”
“I’m okay.” I was unsettled. Freaked out. Worried about the whole deer thing and my car, but I was fine even though I sounded a little desperate when I asked, “Do you think Angela will turn up?”
“I don’t know. I’m hoping and praying that’s the case. Angela could be flighty, but she never missed work. She wouldn’t just run away.” She squeezed my hand. “But there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”
I didn’t need to take a wild guess to figure that out. “Cole?”
A soft smile appeared on her face. “His truck was outside this morning when I got home.”
Oh geez. I was so hoping he’d managed to leave before she woke up.
“Now, I’m not looking for details, but I’m guessing something good went down between you two based on the way he was acting this afternoon.”
Was that just last night? Felt like an eternity ago. “He drove me home and then he stayed the night—on the couch,” I added. “It was late.”
Her head tilted to the side. “I don’t know if I should be proud of you or disappointed that you had that fine-looking man sleeping on your couch when I know that bed of yours is more than big enough.”
My mouth dropped open and I gasped, “Mom.”
“What?” she laughed. “I may be getting up there in years, but I can still fully appreciate a good-looking man.” She sat back. “Especially a man who cared for my daughter once before and seems like he still does, and I also know you cared for him deeply once before too. What I want to know is if you care about him still.”
I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling lights until the brightness was burned into my retina. “It’s . . . I don’t know how I feel.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
Sighing, I lowered my chin and rubbed my eyes until the burn went away. Mom knew me too well sometimes. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m of the mind that anything worth a damn in life, anything fun and joyous, will always be complicated,” she said. “If it’s easy, it’s probably not exactly worth it.”
“True, but I think . . .”
“Spit it out, honey.”
“Fine,” I groaned. “I think he feels sorry for me and he came back here out of some messed-up, twisted sense of obligation.”
Mom’s brows inched up her forehead and several moments passed before she spoke. “And what exactly has he done that would make you think that? Not what you think he has done, but what has he done?”
I opened my mouth, prepared to point out the reasons why I believed this based on our few times together since I returned, and I couldn’t find anything actually concrete—anything that wasn’t my perception of what he’d done. I snapped my mouth shut.
“I’m going to be honest with you, honey, like I’ve always been.”
Mom’s brand of honesty and truth could either be really hilarious or downright awkward. I had no idea which way she was going to go with this.
“You’ve been through things that no woman should ever have to go through. You’ve survived things that no one should ever have to face. You are strong. You have the real strength that’s important. Up here.” She tapped on her head and then her chest. “And here. You picked your life up and pieced it back together. I’m proud of you, honey, so damn proud.”