My mother’s lawyer was clear in the days leading up to her arrest: there were two suspects in the trail of murders in our past—me and her. It was the video footage of me in town during the timeframe the forensics team determined Husband Number Three died that sealed the deal for the department, leaving my mother the only possible guilty party on the table.
I’ve seen the footage. I argued at the time that we should have used that in her defense, but she confessed to the police. Pleaded not guilty to the court but refused to present evidence in her defense. Shutting me out of the decision entirely.
It’s the same piece of evidence I paid her lawyer to present for her appeal.
They can’t prove it was me over her, and even if digging up that piece of evidence leaves me vulnerable to arrest, it’ll be worth it. She doesn’t deserve to sit behind bars for protecting us, and I’m willing to go down to protecther.
Colin clears his throat beside me, his eyes glued to the side of my face, the awkward tension between us deafening in its accusations.
“And your father?” he prods quietly. “If we’re going to be married, shouldn’t I ask him for your hand in marriage?”
I snort as my gaze leaves the ceiling and finds his, his soft lips pulling at an apologetic smile. His intention was to lighten the mood. I can hear thesorryhe isn’t speaking out loud, though he doesn’t need to. I’m bitter, but I know he was just doing his job.
His eyes sparkle as I stare at him. “If you figure out who he is, be my guest.”
20
Colin
Chloe and I stand outside the independent living community, the three-story apartment complex looming in front of us as we look up at it like it’s a courthouse waiting to deliver us a life sentence.
Well, that’s how she’s looking up at it. I’m still dazzled by how beautifulshelooks, my eyes tracing the soft curves of her hips and the heart-shaped lines of her red lips. The shiny, black combat boots on her feet shouldn’t look good with the dress she’s got on, but she makes them look like they were made to be worn together.
“Ready?”
She looks over at me before flattening her hands down her stomach, down the navy-blue dress with tiny buttons from hem to chest. The fabric is tight on her bust and hips, flowing to her shins. Her hair is half pulled back, thick, golden waves cascading down her back. “Do I look okay?”
I smile fully, because I can’t help it, and her eyes light up as her gaze traces the shape of my lips in return. “You’re stunning, Chloe. Always.” I wrap my hand around hers and guide her toward the building.
We stop at the administrative office first, checking in with the ladies at the front desk who greet me with friendly hellos. They’re immediately on the receiving end of Chloe’s death stare. I chuckle to myself, keeping my hand wrapped around hers so she knows I only have eyes for her.
“Detective,” the red head sitting behind the desk greets. I recognize her as Emily, one of the main girls to help my mom get settled when we first moved her in.
“How’s she doing?” I greet in return.
She smiles wide, giving Chloe a tiny nod in greeting before shifting her attention back to me.
“She’s doing okay,” Emily says warmly, her smile remaining bright even though her tone carries an edge of concern. “A bit more tired than usual lately, but still attending most of her activity sessions.” She hands me a folder over the top of the desk, and I release Chloe’s hand to flip through it, each word on the page a painful razor against my skin—tiny, stinging cuts against my flesh as the regret of leaving my mother so far away from me springs to the forefront of my mind again.
Emily continues talking as I review the notes from staff over the past few weeks.Missed swimming last week. Stayed in bed most of the week before. Skipped a few meals in the last couple days.
“Vera is the nurse who sees her most often. Despite what you see in there,” Emily says, nodding toward the reports like she can sense the worry washing through me, “Vera reports Elizabeth’s mood to be bright and alert more often than not.”
I nod absently at the folder in front of me, Emily’s reassurance only slightly working as my stomach bottoms out. Chloe’s hand finds my thigh, the warmth of her fingertips bleeding through the fabric of my jeans grounding—though only distantly.
“Who’s that?” Chloe asks, pointing to a flyer on the wall behind Emily. The paper displays the face of an older woman I don’t recognize; thoughit’s likely another resident, I assume, since she’s smiling from a wheelchair with bright white hair that ends at her shoulders.
Emily turns to the flyer before twisting to face us again, her smile turned down into a frown. “Diane. She passed away last week,” Emily explains, her words low, slow, and solemn. “We’ll be having a memorial for her next week. All the residents just loved her.” She turns back to the flyer that holds the details of the memorial service on it, her face lingering in that direction.
“What happened?” Chloe asks, and it’s just like her to be blunt and slightly inappropriate that I can’t stop a chuckle from rumbling through my chest.
Turning back to us, Emily leans forward, her voice dropping to a hush like she’s getting ready to engage in gossip about the poor woman’s death. “We’re not entirely sure,” she says, her eyes shifting from side to side. “She’d been having some fits, a bit abnormal for her, but she was otherwise fine. Healthy. Karina found her unresponsive in her bed last week when she didn’t show up to breakfast.”
I swallow the newly formed lump in my throat, overcome with a tense spiral of nerves in my stomach, though I can’t pinpoint why. Perhaps it’s the reminder that life is fleeting, unpredictable. The possibility that my mother’s face could be on that flyer next blares brightly in my mind, even though her bone disease doesn’t exactly put her on the path to an early grave.
Still, she’d been lively when I saw her last. Excited about the new place and all of the activities the facility boasted. She was looking forward to being around people who could empathize with her, people who could find connection together as they aged gracefully, in community.
So why is she skipping meals? Staying in bed all week?
