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“That’s fantastic.” Finley reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “You deserve this kind of opportunity.”
While her parents doled out the bravos, Finley relaxed. As long as the Judge’s attention wasn’t on her, she might even be able to enjoy dinner with her father. And Matt. She glanced at her mother as she laughed out loud, another rarity.
Ruth O’Sullivan was a beautiful woman when she smiled or laughed. Silver strands had invaded her dark hair, adding a sophisticated air to her natural beauty. Her eyes glittered when she smiled. The same dark eyes as Finley’s. Finley had gotten her blonde hair from her father. His was fully gray now. Finley’s, on the other hand, was more black than blonde at the moment. During the worst days after Derrick’s murder, she had dyed it black. She hadn’t wanted to be blonde anymore. But recently she had started to allow the black to grow out. Currently she had black hair with about two inches of blonde roots. The look was not a particularly good one, but she didn’t care. In some circles she might even be considered a trendsetter.
Maybe she should get one of those short, spiky haircuts like Lena Marsh. That would get rid of the fading black and simultaneously freak out her mother.
Finley smiled, stabbed another brussels sprout, and poked it in her mouth. It was bad enough Finley had married Derrick, an apparent nobody, but then she’d had a psychotic episode and walked away fromher position at the DA’s office. On top of that, the most egregious offense of all, she had gone to work for Jack Finnegan—the devil himself in her mother’s eyes.
The rift between her mother and Jack was still a mystery. They’d been best friends when they were young. Like Finley and Matt. Finley had called him Uncle Jack her whole life—until they’d started working together. Five years ago, his relationship with the family had been terminated by the Judge. Jack was no longer welcome in their home, period. There had been a falling-out of which no one who knew the details would speak.
A frown dragged at Finley’s face. What had happened to her family? She’d always gone head-to-head with the Judge, but after the rift with Jack and then her marriage to Derrick, it had become something more than the usual mother-daughter disagreements. Somehow their relationship had rushed out of bounds on every level. They couldn’t even share a meal without knives coming out. They were broken. Now, her father, who should be enjoying his retirement, spent far too much time trying to mend things. Playing the mediator. While she and her mother studiously ignored each other.
Jack was still considered an outsider.
And Derrick was dead.
Those forty-six minutes turned into an hour and then another one. Somehow Finley made it until ten o’clock. Two hours and forty-five minutes in the Judge’s presence without a screaming match or one of them walking out.
All thanks to Matt.
When they loaded into his car, she told him so. “Thank you.”
He started the engine. “For what?”
“For bringing me to dinner at my own mother’s house—the house where I grew up—and making it tolerable. For giving my dad a much-needed family night with little or no tension.” She shifted in the seat to look directly at him. “For being you. The best friend in the world.”
He guided the car to the gate and waited for it to open. “It is always my pleasure to spend time with you and your family.”
And that was it. The thing that bothered Finley so much. Matt was happy to do whatever she needed or wanted. While she left him in the dark.
There were so many things she wanted to tell him ... but she couldn’t. Sharing those secrets with him would only ensure he started digging into Derrick’s case. But the guilt of withholding—of lying—grew heavier all the time.
As they drove through the night headed to the murder house, she understood there was more she needed to say before this night ended. Something, anything, to lighten the guilt suffocating her. Why was that so hard for her?
“Thank you again for taking care of me last night.”
He braked at a stop sign and reached for her hand. “Fin, you never have to thank me for doing what friends are supposed to do.”
She turned her palm up and entwined her fingers in his. “Thanks anyway. Sometimes ...” She hesitated. Had to be careful not to drag her friend into this thing she couldn’t find her way out of. “Sometimes ... I’d be lost without you.”
“You’ll never be lost, Fin, because I’ll always be here.”
She suddenly wondered if Matt would still consider her a friend if he knew about what had happened with Brant.
What would her father think?
Jack would be concerned, but he’d blow it off or at least pretend to. He’d toss out one of his favorite lines.I already know I’m going to hell, kid. At this point I figure it’s go big or go home.
The Judge would officially disown her.
Finley faced forward.
Jesus Christ. What the hell had she become?
17
The Widow
