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“You need to finish high school and then there’s college,” Sarina was saying almost by rote.
“I can get a GED! I don’t have to go back, and I don’t want to. Do you know what that would be like? Everyone would know about what happened. I’d be . . . stared at and whispered about. And not in a good way. I’m not going.”
The house came into view, and Sarina, about to argue with Ivy again, decided to clam up. Instead she stared through the window. “Oh, Regan,” she said in surprise. “This is . . . this is really nice. And the lake . . .”
Of course she’d never seen the place. She’d never once visited Montana, not even when Pescoli was going through the death of Jeremy’s father, or the births of her children, or during her divorce from Lucky Pescoli. Regan had never felt the need to keep in close contact with her sisters, but maybe that had been a mistake.
Ivy flew out of the car as soon as it was parked and hurried inside. Pescoli and Sarina followed and, of course, were greeted by the excited barking and yips from the dogs, and Santana, in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, who was kneeling near the fireplace and stacking a small pile of split fir. Within the firebox the embers of last night’s fire were glowing against fresh tinder.
“Hey,” he said, and tossed off his gloves.
“I brought company.” Pescoli cocked her head toward Sarina, then petted a wildly yipping Cisco, who was doing terrier pirouettes at her feet. “Whoa, big fella. Take it down a notch, will ya?”
“Getting to be a habit with you.” He smiled. “First Ivy and now . . . Sarina, right?”
“Yes.” Sarina was nodding, taking him in.
“Finally.” He stuck out a hand, took hers, and shook it. “’Bout time we met.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Sorry about Brindel,” Santana said, letting go of her hand.
“Me too. She was . . .” Sarina’s voice threatened to break, but she found a way to hold herself together as Pescoli walked to the couch where Tucker was starting to rouse and fuss.
“Hey, little man,” Pescoli said, picking him up.
Santana glanced at his son. “He’s been a pill.”
“This guy? A pill? No way. Not in a million years.” Pescoli nuzzled Tucker and he sneezed, then looked surprised, then broke into a big, toothless grin. “See?”
“A mother’s touch,” her husband grumbled. “I’ll be back in a while. Got to go check the stock at the Long spread. Had a problem with a frozen pipe earlier.”
“The kids?” she asked before checking the clock. Bianca wasn’t due back from school for another hour and Jeremy should be at his job. “Never mind.”
“Okay.” With a wave he was off and Sarina was making come-to-mama motions with her fingers at Tucker.
“Let me hold him.”
“He probably needs changing,” Santana called back on his way out.
“Not a problem for me,” Sarina said. Pescoli handed him into her outstretched arms, then pointed to a makeshift changing table positioned in the corner near the television.
“Diapers, wipes, cream . . . whatever he needs over there.”
Sarina wrinkled her nose at Tucker. “I think we can handle this, right?” Then to Pescoli, “He reminds me of Ryan, when he was this small. It just goes so fast, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Pescoli said.
Ivy, pretending not to be paying attention to the conversation, had been petting Sturgis near the back door and the dog was responding, his black tail whipping back and forth. But as Sarina cooed at the baby, Ivy’s expression turned a little darker, the corners of her lips twisting almost imperceptibly. When Sarina giggled and started making baby talk, Ivy gave up her feigned interest in the dog and, thinking no one would notice, rolled her eyes as if she thought her aunt was an idiot for all the attention she was lavishing on Tucker. Without a word Ivy patted her back pocket, checking for the cell phone, then made her way toward the staircase, her footsteps echoing sharply as she hurried up the steps.
Pescoli watched it all, silently, wondering.
Sarina looked up from the changing table and caught the end of her quick exit. “Poor thing,” she whispered. “She’s been through so much. I’m not just talking about losing her mother. Lord knows that’s hard enough. We’ve all felt the pain. But then what she suffered through in Albuquerque, too? When she was just trying to get away? And now, after she makes it here, to family and safety, she’s treated like a criminal.”
And maybe for a good reason, Pescoli thought. “Poor thing” or not, she was the key to finding out what happened to her mother and stepfather.
She considered calling Tanaka or Paterno, but felt they wouldn’t tell her anything. Alvarez wasn’t a part of the investigation and Ivy had clammed up.
