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“Jane Milburn pointed you out to me in the grocery store the other day.” Ivy reached out a hand. “Come in, come in. I figured you’d get around to us sooner or later.”
Dana stepped into what was obviously the large central room of the house, with big windows, a rock fireplace and gleaming hardwood floors. Her heels tapped a rhythm on the wood as she followed Ivy Winslow into the kitchen where the woman gestured toward a granite table.
“Have a seat, please.” Ivy busied herself at the counter. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee, and I have some cinnamon rolls left from yesterday. Let me just get things together here.”
Dana sat at the end of the table, putting her purse on the chair next to her and activating the voice recorder app on her phone. She couldn’t believe how gracious the woman was—a complete change from Lois Kelly—yet the air of tension around Ivy was almost palpable.
“Please don’t fuss over me,” Dana protested. “I was just hoping we could have some conversation.”
Ivy turned to look at her, years of anguish lining her face. “I know you want to talk about Lily. I’m much better at it if I have a cup of coffee and something to do with my hands.”
A lump rose in Dana’s throat. “Coffee and rolls would be just wonderful. Thanks.”
Ivy placed mugs and plates on the table, then took a chair across from Dana. Taking a careful sip of her coffee, she set her mug carefully on the granite surface, folded her hands, and looked Dana straight in the eye.
“I believe in always getting right to the point,” she said. “Jane tells me you’re writing a book about what happened here in High Ridge. To our children.”
“Yes, and I apologize.” Dana broke off a tiny piece of roll, nibbling at it politely. “I know I should have called before just showing up. But to tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure of the reception I’d get. Everyone seems to want me to take a hike, get out of town. Disappear. I thought maybe the surprise element would work better.”
Ivy took a small bite of her roll and chewed it slowly. “Most of the parents will want to shut you out. Linc and I decided a long time ago that the only way to get past that awful horror and keep Lily alive in our hearts was to talk about it and try to live with it.” She brushed an imaginary crumb from her lap.
“That has to be a difficult thing to do,” Dana commented.
“You have no idea.” Her eyes drifted to a point over Dana’s shoulder. “At first, I wanted nothing more than to die and be buried with my baby.” She shifted her gaze back to Dana. “They wouldn’t let us see the body, you know. Jed Nickels—he was the sheriff then—absolutely refused. And our pastor, when they gave him the details, agreed. But I wanted to rip that coffin open, see the horror for myself, and then die with her.”
Without thinking, Dana reached out a hand and laid it softly on Ivy’s arm. The woman flicked her eyes down at the touch, and although she didn’t flinch, Dana drew her hand back. Okay, she wasn’t an enemy, but neither was she a friend. She got the message.
“I know how devastated you had to be,” she said in a gentle tone.
Ivy let out a long, slow breath. “You can’t even begin to imagine. And Lincoln. He was shattered, but he found strength somewhere to keep us all together.”
“How did your boys handle it?”
“Josh and Nate were six and eight at the time. This kind of thing was beyond their ability to understand. Again, I give Linc all the credit for figuring out how to reach them and help them through it.”
“He must be a very strong man,” Dana pointed out.
“He’s a rock.” Ivy picked at a piece of frosting on her roll. “He was our strength and our refuge. And when we finally reached a place where we could function again, he allowed himself to fall apart. And we were there for him.”
“You sound like you love him a lot.”
“We love each other,” Ivy told her. “None of us will ever forget Lily. She was a wonderful, beautiful child. But the boys have grown into terrific men. They’ve married really great women, and we’re all very close. It was a struggle, but it’s definitely been worth it.”
“I probably shouldn’t say this,” Dana said carefully, “but so many times, in cases like this, it destroys the family.”
“Ah.” Ivy’s look was sharp. “You’ve been talking to Lois Kelly. Or was it Mila Garza? Sonja Escobedo? Natalie Grimes?”
“Lois,” Dana admitted. “But I hope to speak to the others, too.”
“Tell me something, Miss Moretti.”
“Dana. Please.”
“Dana, then. What do you hope to achieve here? What have you accomplished with your other books? Help me to understand.”
“As I tried to tell Lois, I bring a fresh pair of eyes and a research brain. Many times, I’ve spotted things investigators missed.” She sipped at her coffee, taking time to choose her words carefully. “It doesn’t always turn out this way, but in some of the cases, I’ve actually been able to point the police in directions they’d overlooked. Bring a resolution to the case and closure to the families.”
“And you think that’s what you can do here?” The hope in Ivy’s voice was almost painful to hear.
