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“Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” he said, as he crumpled the wrappings and stuffed them into the white In-N-Out sack. “Tell me what you know about Ned and Trudie’s relationship.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” she said, stopping her pacing near the bookcase. “I never thought either one of them was interested in each other or . . . you know, making a buck off of my mother.” She just couldn’t see it.
“Seems like they did.”
“I know, but why? From the looks of things, it seemed like they were doing okay.” The ranch house had been clean before the police started going through it, the furniture up-to-date in that retro mid-century modern style that had made a comeback. They had acreage and horses, two older vehicles, and in the garage, she’d learned, a Porsche, only a few years old and in great condition.
“Appearances can be deceiving. You know the old saying, ‘Big hat, no cattle.’”
“Except they had cattle,” she reminded him.
“I know. Maybe a hat or two, as well.” He smiled again, and it touched her deep inside, caused her heart to do a traitorous little flip, and reminded her again of how infatuated she’d been with him. But that had been eons ago, she told herself. He was different now. A man. Battle-scarred from life. Yet she still found him innately sensual, probably because he seemed so unaware of his own sexuality. Was that even possible? She considered the beard shadow darkening his strong jaw, the creases near deep-set eyes that sparked with intelligence, the way he could stare into the distance thoughtfully.
“You think Trudie or Ned or the two of them together were working with Didi?” he asked, bringing her back to the present.
“I don’t know. Some of that stuff in the book, about when she was a kid, they might know from being close to Didi, but no, I don’t see Mom having anything to do with Ned. She was pissed when he left, and they never reconciled. That’s the way she is. Once you burn her, she never forgives.”
“What would she think about Trudie marrying Ned?”
“Oh, man. No way she would like it. She would see it as a betrayal on both their parts.” She leaned against the bookcase and viewed a shelf where she’d kept a few favorite pictures. Didi was there, front and center, her black-and-white head shot dominating the smaller pictures.
The very picture that had been used for the cover of I’m Not Me.
Damn. The old pain bloomed, feelings of desperation and abandonment emerging. Setting her jaw, she fought them as she stared at the photo.
Dear God, Mom. Where are you?
She was so lost in thought she wasn’t aware that Noah had climbed out of his chair and crossed the room to stand next to her. He slid his arms around her waist, and she tensed before he pulled her so close she felt this breath upon her neck. “Give it a rest,” he said. “Go to bed.”
“I can’t,” she said. “Seems as if I’ve got company.”
“The company can take care of himself.”
“I was talking about Romeo.”
He chuckled. “I’ll crash on the couch.”
She thought about that. “You don’t have anywhere else to go?”
“We just came back from a disturbing homicide scene, with people linked to you.”
“So, what’re you saying? You think I need . . . a bodyguard?” She let out a soft chuckle. “When I’ve got a guard cat and a flashlight guaranteed to rip an assailant to shreds, if you use it right.”
“Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me.”
“Hope so.”
She waited for a rejoinder, but suddenly the strong arms slipped away from her. “What’s this?” he asked, picking up a small framed picture that had been partially hidden by the bigger head shot of Didi.
“Oh.” Remmi studied the picture. “It’s the only picture of the twins I have.”
Noah studied the snapshot. “Okay, that’s Didi, I recognize her, holding one of the kids.” He was pointing to Remmi’s mother, who was standing under the awning shading the back patio of their house in Las Vegas.
“I took the picture, not long after the babies were born.” Wearing sunglasses and slacks and a T-shirt, Didi, still hanging onto some of her pregnancy weight, was holding her son.
“She’s got Adam.”
“You said twins, but there’s only one kid here,” he said. “Oh, I get it now. There, just inside the patio door.”
