“All right, I’ll just come back later,” I said, already turning. “When you’re in bed. Then I’ll sit down here all alone and startwith the dead body pictures. You know—like a totally stable teenager.”
I wasn’t ten. I was sixteen. And Grandma knew me. Knew darn well the moment she left this room, I’d be back down here trying to piece it all together myself. I would crawl through fire for my mother.
And why wouldn’t I? She would do the same for me.
I turned on the stairs.
“Wait.” She let out a long breath of annoyance. “But just for a little bit. Then we both need to get some sleep. Deal?”
I nodded.
“Did you find anything yet?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “Just got started. But the motive the police came up with is paper-thin. Basically nonexistent.”
I reached for the folder marked “Motive” and flipped it open.
“Jealousy?” I scoffed, holding up the report. “Seriously?”
“Yup. They said your mom was jealous of Amanda.”
I shook my head. “Mom wouldn’t trade places with Amanda for a billion dollars. If anything, it’s Amanda who was jealous of Mom.”
Grandma cocked a brow. “And why’s that?”
I shrugged. “Because of Dad. Amanda and Dad were childhood sweethearts, all the way through high school.”
“How do you know that?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Dad keeps her love letters in a box in the closet. I found them when I was digging for pictures of Grandpa in his military uniform. For that school project, remember?”
“Well, that was a long time ago, sweetheart.”
“Maybe. But he still keeps them.” My mouth tightened, and my tone was flat. “Dunno why Mom and all these other women fall for him. Remember when we went on that camping trip a fewyears back, and all those moths flew straight into the campfire? Literally getting torched to death. That’s what it feels like with women and Dad.”
“Dylan … your dad is doing what he can.”
“You mean getting wasted at bars?”
“No. I mean coping.”
I pulled out a chair and sat at one of the makeshift tables. My fingers skimmed through the next stack of files.
“I guess,” I finally muttered, softer this time. More for her than me. I didn’t want to upset her at a time when she’d lost a job that was a huge part of who she was. All while reading murder files to save her daughter.
She gave a small nod. “Well, let’s get to it. I’ve got an appointment with a new lawyer tomorrow morning.”
* * *
I checked the time on my phone: 11:51 p.m.
“God, we have to get some sleep,” Grandma said as she stood. Papers were scattered across the basement floor, covering nearly every inch.
I didn’t look up. I was focused on a report in my hands.
“Sweetie, let’s go to bed. You have school tomorrow.”
“Come look at this.” I waved her over, my eyes still fixed on the page.
