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Alexandria slowed and pulled into the parking lot at the beach. Alana shifted in her seat, brimming with excitement, her earlier frustration seemingly vanished at the sight of Nick’s red convertible Beemer. Several other cars she recognized from her daughter’s last birthday party were parked nearby in a tight cluster.
“Mind if I hang out with you guys for a while?” Alexandria asked serenely.
Alana reacted as if she’d stepped on a snake. “What? No, Mom. No one comes with their mother to these things. I’ll be the laughingstock of the entire school. You have to leave. Nick will drive me back.”
Impervious to her daughter’s plea, she climbed out of the SUV and stretched, taking in the fresh, salty air filled with moisture. She didn’t come to the coast nearly as often as she wanted.
Beyond the edge of the parking lot, the beach extended several yards out to where the Pacific surf washed ashore, glimmering in the filtered sunlight. The waves had the most perfect shade of aquamarine she’d ever seen.
Alana grabbed her bag from the trunk and dashed toward the chatty group that was lounging on the sand a few yards away. She ran past her, throwing over her shoulder yet another plea, “Please, Mom, just go away.”
Alexandria didn’t rush. She leaned against the rusted parking lot railing overlooking the beach, and closed her eyes, taking in whatever sunshine made it through the clouds, feeling the ocean spray on her heated skin.
When she opened her eyes, Alana had reached her friends. Nick pecked her lips, then took her bag and set it on the towel by his side. Was her daughter sleeping with Nick? She probably was.
She closed her eyes again, leaning into the railing with both hands, stretching her shoulders. A strong gust of chilly Pacific breeze lifted her skirt, wrapping it around her legs. The soft fabric fluttered furiously around her thighs. It felt good… youthful, brazen. She didn’t make any effort to hold it down, although her lace panties were showing at times. The wind touched her skin like a lover’s hand, rushed, trembling, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
When she opened her eyes again, Nick was standing in front of her, his eyes avoiding hers. Alana was by his side, barefoot in the sand, her arms crossed at her chest. She was wearing that string bikini that barely covered her nipples, although Alexandria had repeatedly told her no. She could’ve sworn she’d thrown that thing in the trash a couple of weeks ago.
“Hello, Mrs. Keaney,” Nick said. “I wanted you to know I’ll drive Alana home myself tonight.”
“No later than eight,” she said calmly, still ignoring what the wind was doing with her white silk skirt. Still enjoying it.
“Mom,” Alana cried in protest, but her boyfriend didn’t seem to mind, “why do you always have to be so—”
“Understood, Mrs. Keaney,” Nick replied. He took Alana’s hand, and they both ran toward the ocean, laughing and squealing in the frayed sunshine. Her daughter seemed really happy. It was showing in the way she turned to her boyfriend laughing, throwing her hair over her shoulder and looking sideways. In her fingers intertwined with Nick’s, their arms swinging back and forth in sync. Alana was falling in love with him.
Damn that kid, he’s nothing but trouble.
TWELVE
HIKE
Self-blame never helped anyone.
Kay kept telling herself that while tears choked her, threatening to break loose. She should’ve said something. She’d seen the signs, yet she’d doubted herself and decided to clam up. And now a man was dead, partly because of her silence, her cowardice. His widow, in shock, had to be taken to the hospital.
Elliot’s hand squeezed hers, startling her back into reality.
“You couldn’t’ve known,” he said. His voice was gentle, understanding, yet undertones of sadness told her he was just as troubled by what had happened as she was.
“Ididknow,” she replied bitterly. “That’s exactly the problem. I knew, and I said nothing.”
“I don’t think you knew,” he replied calmly. “I believe yoususpected,and there’s a difference.”
She pressed her lips together and stared at the road ahead without seeing anything. She’d offered the Jerrells her support. Bill hadn’t said a single word to confirm her suspicions. If she’d been wrong, she would’ve had a grieving parent committed to psychiatric care against his will. What kind of person would do that to a disabled parent who’d just lost his child?
It would’ve been better than this. Anything would’ve been better than this. Or would it?
Elliot clenched his jaw for a moment, muscles knotting under his skin. “How exactly do you tell a grieving mother that you think her husband is about to blow his brains out?” He shook his head slowly, pulling into the trailhead parking lot. “Can you imagine saying that and being wrong?” He cut the engine. “No, partner. I’m no shrink, but in my book, Jerrell’s death is on the same perp as Jenna’s. And we’re going to get that son of a bitch if it’s the last thing we do.” He waited for a reaction from her, but she remained silent. “Right?”
She nodded, veering her gaze toward the parking lot. The ATV trailer bearing the insignia of the Franklin County Sheriff’s Office was empty. One ATV was waiting for them, a two-seater, and Deputy Farrell was leaning against it, texting.
They climbed out of the SUV, and, just like earlier, Elliot took the driver’s seat on the ATV.
“Where’s everyone?” Kay asked, aware she’d said they’d be back from the next of kin in an hour or so, and it had been more than three.
Farrell pocketed her phone. “The boss was here.” A quick eye roll. “He sent people to canvass the trails. Everyone’s up there.” She took her radio off her belt and pressed a button. The device spewed some static. “Farrell to Novack. Where are you? Over.”
