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“Looks like you got your hands full, Loo-lie,” the old woman says.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she says, giving the woman a wink and wrapping her in a hug.
I rub the back of my neck, feeling like an idiot and wondering just how many layers this new Luna has.
Then I remind myself it doesn’t matter because I won’t be the one to unravel them. She already has a man for that. I’m not twenty anymore, nursing a heartache that won’t go away. You’d think that would be easy enough to remember after all this time…
Luna
“How have you been, Loretta?” I ask the old woman as we enter her home.
I hate bothering her again, I know she doesn’t deal well with people. She hasn’t since the death of her son a couple of years back. It gives her anxiety. She rarely gets out except to go to the doctor and Doc Monroe tries to visit her at home as much as possible. That’s one of the advantages to living in a small town for sure.
“I’m good, Loo-lie,” she says as I hug her tightly.
I smile over her nickname. I’m not sure where it came from, but it never fails to brighten my day.
“You’re losing weight again,” I admonish.
Loretta is seventy now, and she probably doesn’t weigh eighty pounds soaking wet. She’s feeble, walking with a cane, and her white hair is long and pulled up in a bun all the time. She’s pale and her skin is cold to the touch. I worry about her. She has no one now that her son is gone. She was really nice to me at a time in my life when I had very few people I could count on. She always went out of her way to send things for Joshua too.
“Some days it’s just too much effort to fix food when I’m the only one to eat it,” she mumbles. I walk with her to her recliner and then sit in the chair close to it, leaving the couch for Dern and Gavin.
“You still need to eat.” I hand her the small box I brought with me. “I’m not sure these are nutritious, but they’ll probably help put weight on,” I tell her with a grin.
“Did my Joshie make these?” she asks holding up one of the chocolate chip cookies in the box.
“He helped. He doesn’t bake with me much anymore. He says he’s getting too old for that,” I laugh. “But I bribed him a little this time. I told him we were making them for his favorite Gramma.”
I can feel Gavin’s eyes on me, and I know I’m not imagining the hostility in the air between us. I’m still pissed at his insinuations, and I don’t like that he’s combative with me. We haven’t seen each other in thirteen years. You would think he could at least pretend to be cordial, if not purely professional. I don’t have to look to see the antagonism on his face. I know it’s there. He’s probably itching to call me a liar about the cookies since I just agreed to meet here with him this morning. What he doesn’t know is that I visit Loretta twice a week, and I would have been here without him. I should really visit her more often, but with work, Joshua’s ball practice, and a hundred other things it’s hard.
“That boy… he’s a special one, reminds me of my own. Did you gentlemen know that Joshua was named after my own boy? My Josh was a handsome thing,” Loretta shares, her eyes going distant as she remembers her son whom she lost to cancer a few years back.
“We didn’t know that, Ma’am,” Gavin says and at least he sounds nice to her.
“Loretta, this is Agent Dern and Agent Gavin Lodge with the FBI. They want to ask you some questions about Skylar’s body.”
“I don’t know much. Don’t know why I keep getting pestered with this stuff,” she grumbles.
“I know, Mrs. Fletcher, but maybe you know something that will help us locate the killer,” Agent Dern emphasizes.
I can see the tremor that runs through Loretta’s hand. She’s getting upset. I place my hand over hers and squat down so that we’re at eye level.
“It’ll be just a few questions. They’ll be gone quickly, I promise. Then we can visit for a bit.”
“You’ll stay?”
“And miss our Thursday lunches? Are you crazy? I’m thinking fried chicken,” I tell her with a grin. It’s kind of a joke because that’s what we always have. It was Joshua’s favorite meal, and Loretta always insists on frying it when I visit.
“I have some ready to fry,” she says.
“If we could get on with the questioning, we’ll get out of your hair and let you ladies have your lunch,” Gavin says, and I have to resist the urge to slap him again.
