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“Chloe,” Elizabeth admonished on a heavy sigh.
“She’s mean. She’s a mean girl.”
“No, she’s not. She’s self-involved. All teenagers are.”
“What? What’s self-devolved?”
Elizabeth almost smiled at the mistake and was reminded how young her daughter was and how much she’d been through in the last week or so. No matter how she was reacting, Chloe was dealing with a major issue with the loss of her father. Even if Elizabeth’s love for her husband had shriveled, the same wasn’t necess
arily true for her child. “Never mind. I need you to get ready to go.”
“To Lissa’s house?”
“Yes.”
“For dinner.”
“That’s right.” So she had gotten through.
“What are we eating at Lissa’s?” Chloe demanded suspiciously.
“Pizza for you girls.”
“Yuck.”
So this was how it was going to be, Chloe obstinate.
“You love pizza,” Elizabeth reminded her daughter. “Now, come on, squirt. Go comb your hair. You look like nobody loves you.”
“But you do. You love me.”
“Very much.” And to prove it, she gave her daughter another hug, holding her fiercely, the memory of the road rage on the dark edges of her mind. Chloe actually giggled before wriggling away.
Elizabeth forced out, “And find your shoes. I’ve got to . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence as Chloe had rushed out to, hopefully, do as Elizabeth had asked.
Only when she was alone did Elizabeth let go. Her legs buckled and she knocked over her water bottle, spilling it onto the counter. Quickly righting the bottle, she didn’t bother wiping up the mess because she had to sit down at the kitchen table or fall down.
She covered her mouth with her hands and stared blankly ahead, watching the water drip from the counter to the floor and unable to do anything about it. She heard the ticking of the clock mounted high over the cupboards, in an almost eerie counterpoint to her own heartbeats.
Something was happening to her. Something bad.
I’m normal. I’m totally normal.
But it wasn’t true.
Chapter 9
Rex slid a look at his companion as he eased his seat back and dropped the baseball cap farther over his eyes. He’d parked in the shade of a Madrone tree a block over from the Cochrans’ drive and had told himself he wasn’t completely out of his mind by allowing Ravinia to come. She was right about the fact that his surveillance would be more camouflaged by having her in the car. He’d been outside the Cochran home enough times to be remarked on, and that “pull date” when someone finally noticed the man loitering in the car and the alarm went out was always a possibility.
Surveillance was a tricky thing and he had to be cautious. Having Ravinia in the car with him could be good or bad. God knew she could certainly blow the whole thing if she wanted to, though he suspected that wasn’t how she was made. He considered himself a pretty good judge of character, most of the time, and apart from a few epic fails in his personal life, he usually knew about people, their habits and their motivations. In that, he’d been a pretty decent policeman throughout his twenties, but deep into his thirties, his skills worked best in private investigation.
Ravinia turned her head, feeling his perusal. She was sensitive that way, though her personality was anything but. She was prickly, confrontational, suspicious, and determined, so when she came out with, “I’d be good at your job,” he gave a bark of laughter.
“What?” she demanded.
“We’ve been here all of ten minutes.”
“You just have to wait around and watch people.”
