Page 69 of Not a Word

I nodded.

“And when you have a moment, could you get my things from the hotel?” She went into her purse, brought out a plastic room key. “It’s all packed.”

“Okay.”

“This is my house. I’m not leaving. I won’t let your father’s foolishness force me out.” Foolishness struck me as something of an understatement. “If I let tragedy dictate where I live I’d have left here long ago.”

I didn’t know whether to pursue that one or not. I already had another question ready to go and launched it.

“Did you know?” I asked. She looked at me, seeking clarification. “About Dad, and Leah.”

“I need to sit down.”

She went into the living room and settled onto the couch while I took a chair opposite her. She took a breath, put her hands in her lap, and laced her fingers. “He thought he was so good at keeping it a secret, at least for a while. Had an extra phone and everything.”

“How long had it been going on?”

“A year, maybe two. I confronted him about it a couple of months ago. Not that I was as upset as you might think. Things have been strained for a long time.”

“Was Dad seeing her back in the beginning? Before Holden came along?”

“No. Like I said, it was all very clinical, getting her pregnant. When I got him to admit he was seeing her, he told me how it happened. He spotted her one day. On the street, in a store, somewhere, I don’t know. She looked distraught, and he went up to her, asked if she was okay, then realized who she was. Her life was something of a mess, she’d been living with a man who was abusive, and I guess he set out to rescue her.”

“So it didn’t start out as an affair?”

“I don’t think so. He felt indebted to this woman who carried his child, who gave birth to our Holden, who was clearly struggling. To give your father the benefit of the doubt, I think his original intention was to help. He gave her money. A hundred here, a hundred there, sometimes a thousand. Their friendship turned into something more. She kicked out her boyfriend. But I never thought . . . I never thought your father would meet with her here.” She seethed briefly. “I could put up with almost anything, but to do it here . . . I didn’t know he hated me that much.”

“Dad didn’t hate you.”

She gave me a wry smile that hinted at my naivete.

I had another question, but before I could pose it, we heard a car pulling into the driveway. I got up from the chair and went to the window, pulled back a drape.

“Detective McCabe,” I said.

“God, no,” said Mom. She didn’t sound angry. More defeated.

“Maybe she spotted my car, wants to talk to me.”

“I’m not here,” she said, got off the couch, and started heading for the door to the basement.

McCabe was opening the door to her car.

“Mom,” I said.

She paused, glanced at me.

“Who was the man in the parking lot?” I asked.

“I have no idea what you’re—”

“Cut the bullshit, Mom. Who was he? Why’d you look so upset?”

McCabe was halfway to the front door.

“I want to know. Were you having an affair with him?”

She looked completely exasperated. “For Christ’s sake, you have no idea what’s going on.” With that she disappeared down the stairs. I went to the door before McCabe could ring the bell.