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“The truth’s the truth, but it’s none of your business,” he said to Eve. “What are you after here?”
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bsp; “Oh, it isn’t clear? Your son is a person of interest in this investigation.”
“What does that mean?” Audrey looked from Eve to her husband, back again. “I don’t understand what that means.”
“You mean you think he had something to do with it? With killing those people?”
“No. No. No.” Audrey covered her face with her hands, did her best to turn herself into a ball while Russell stared at Eve.
And she saw it in his eyes. Shock, yes. And a little fear. But not dismissal, not rejection of the idea.
“You moved a lot while he was growing up,” Eve commented.
“I went where the work was.”
“I don’t think so. You were—are a trained medical, Mr. Callaway, and someone with your qualifications and experience doesn’t have to travel for work. He did things, didn’t he? Got into trouble. Small things at first. Boys will be boys, right? But there was something, always something not quite right. The neighbors didn’t much like him. The other kids didn’t want to play with him. Then there were bigger things, things you had to deny or cover over. Best thing to do is move away, start again. He never made friends. Nothing was ever really enough, or satisfying to him, not for long.”
“He got picked on,” Audrey claimed. “He was sensitive.”
“Broody,” she suggested, remembering Elaine’s words. “Moody, sulky. Holed up in his room. You schooled him from home. It was better that way, for him. You thought that because he didn’t make friends, didn’t like being told what to do and when to do it.”
“He just needed more attention. Some boys need more attention. He never hurt anyone.”
“He’d start rumors.” Teasdale sat in her quiet way. “Tell the boy next door what the girl down the block said about him, whether she did or not. He enjoyed stirring up trouble—maybe stealing things, then planting them on someone else. Watching others fight over the trouble he’d stirred.”
“He did the same to the two of you,” Eve continued. “You especially, Mrs. Callaway. Little lies, quiet little sabotage to cause conflict and friction between you. He still does it when he can. When he comes to visit you, there’s always some upheaval, some new tension.
It’s such a relief when he’s gone again.”
“That’s not true, that’s not true. He’s our son. We love him.”
“Love’s never been enough for him.” Eve saw it clearly in Audrey Callaway’s eyes. “When he comes you make his favorite meals, wash his clothes, wait on him like a servant. And still, he looks at you with contempt—or worse, boredom.
“But just recently, he’s taken more of an interest. He’s had questions. When did he find out Guiseppi Menzini was his grandfather?”
“Oh no. No.”
“Hush now, Audrey. Hush now.” Russell laid his big, hard hand over his wife’s, but Eve saw a gentleness in the gesture this time. “We’re Christian people. We live our life, don’t bother anybody.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” Teasdale folded her hands neatly on the table. “I’m sure you tried to be a credit to Edward and Tessa Hubbard, Mrs. Callaway.”
“Of course.”
“When did you learn they weren’t your biological parents?”
“Oh God. Russ.”
“Listen here, Audrey, she was raised by good people. She didn’t know anything about Menzini until her father was dying. He thought she needed to know. It’d been better if he’d let it die with him, but he was sick and dying and afraid she’d find out when he wasn’t there to explain how it was.”
“That man wasn’t my father. Edward Hubbard was my father, and Tessa Hubbard was my mother. The woman who bore me, she strayed, she did bad things, but she repented. She redeemed herself. She died trying to protect me.”
“When did you tell him? When did you tell Lewis?”
“Russ—”
“If he did something, Audrey, it’s our responsibility to say. He’s our son, and we’re the ones who have to say.”
