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His fist rises, and he’s about to pound on the door when I hear a noise from inside.
“Coming!” It’s my mother’s voice.
The door flies inward, and Aiden’s fist is still raised. She lets out a little yelp and starts to close the door again, but Aiden puts his palm out and stops it.
“It’s time to talk.” His deep voice is ominous.
Her eyes narrow at Aiden, and she only holds the door, not opening it. “What’s this about?”
“I’m sure you know we found a dead body in the kids’ park at the festival last night.”
“And I’m sure you know I was working in the tarot tent all day yesterday.”
“The body was dumped sometime Friday night, and I have reason to believe you were working with the deceased.”
Mom’s eyes fly to me, and I’m blinking fast. “You said you would wait.”
My eyes widen, and I shake my head no. Past the lump in my throat, I manage to whisper, “I did.”
Aiden bristles at my side, and fear locks me in a straitjacket.
His voice has an edge when he speaks. “Your daughter kept her word to you. We were just at Gary Blue’s house in Rockville, where I found this letter with your signature.”
He pulls a folded sheet of thick, cream paper from his pocket and holds it out to her.
Mom recoils. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Let me help.” He begins to read, his voice stern. “Stay strong, Gary. We’re so close. This time we’ll expose him.” He folds the paper, leveling his stormy eyes on her. “Expose who, Gwen?”
“I’m not speaking to you about this. It’s a family matter you couldn’t possibly understand.”
“A criminal is dead, and you’re the last one we know who communicated with him.” Aiden returns the letter to his pocket. “So perhaps this is a family matter, and you’re the prime suspect.”
“Don’t be rude, Aiden Stone.” Mom pulls her jewel-toned, paisley-patterned silk robe tighter around her body. “My family has never been criminals.”
She’s dressed in black leggings and a black tank top, and her curly, curly hair is full around her head. She looks every bit the eccentric fortune-teller I told Owen she isn’t, and my stomach has a lead weight in it.
“Of course.” Aiden exhales a bitter laugh. “You just take money from desperate people and claim to predict their futures.”
“That is not what I do.” Her hazel eyes flash.
“I don’t care what you do. I want to know what you know about Gary Blue.”
Mom exhales, opening the door. She walks up the hall to her kitchen, and Aiden walks straight inside after her. I rub my hand over the pain in my stomach and follow them to where my mom takes down a coffee mug and pours herself a cup.
“Britt, would you like a cup of coffee?” Her voice is clear, confident, and I’m terrified of what she’s about to say.
As usual.
“No, thank you.” I keep to the perimeter of the room, still hoping I might be able to salvage things with Aiden, as hopeless as it appears.
“I’d offer you some, Sheriff, but I don’t like you.” Mom turns, walking to her small table. “Have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand.” Aiden’s expression is stoney, and he clearly doesn’t give a shit about the coffee snub.
“Suit yourself.” Mom sits, taking a sip of her coffee and beginning, like she’s doing a reading. “Gary Blue assisted an escape artist and magician named Stan Roswell back in the day. He was Stan’s helper, meaning, he was the guy who recruited ladies to sit in the audience and volunteer to be sawed in half. Gary and Stan parted ways years ago. I heard they’d had a falling out, and Gary went off the grid. I was one of a very few who knew how to reach him. When the petty crimes started, and Britt told me about the prosthetic leg, I went to find him. Gary didn’t commit those petty crimes. He didn’t break into my house. I have an idea who did, but I wouldn’t expect a Stone to understand or administer justice.”
“When was this alleged break-in?”
