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“Danny and Chris, do not leave this street.” Then she focuses her eyes on me. “Sure.”
She ushers us in, and I glance around the open space. Two dark couches are on opposite sides of the living room, the smell of mothballs and ocean breeze lingering in the air.
She has the door to the deck wide open, and I see the ocean waves rolling onto the golden sand.
A toddler walks up to the coffee table, pulls the fake fruit from the bowl, and Judy takes it from him and tells him no before settling him in the opposite direction.
I glance at Poppy, watching her as she watches the kid in awe. A sense of guilt washes over me because I know I won’t give her what she really wants, a child. Every time she mentions children or when I see the sad look in her eyes when we’re on the topic of children, I feel like a shitty husband.
I should be able to give my wife whatever she wants, and I feel like I’m failing her.
I shake my head, knowing I need to worry about other things right now, like my mother and getting justice for her. If what my grandfather says is true, I can’t wait to watch Tommy rot in prison—and bonus, I’ll be able to take over his businesses.
“Don’t mind my grandson. He’s a busybody.”
I sit forward, pulling my pant legs up a little as Poppy strokes my back. “I’m here about my mother. My grandfather is reopening her murder case, and he mentioned you were an eyewitness to my mother’s death.”
Horror lights her eyes, and she wipes her hands on her dress, shaking her head. “I didn’t see anything.”
Guilt is written all over her face and her bottom lip quivers as she taps her feet on the wooden floor.
I ball up my fists and keep them on my lap. “He said my father might have paid you off, after you saw him drowning her.”
Tears sit in the corners of her eyes. “I already told the police what I saw.” She gets up from the couch, her arms behind her back, holding her head up high.
I wish she would tell me, so my mother can finally rest in peace after getting the justice she deserves.
“Just think, if you were a kid, or if you had been drowned, wouldn’t you want justice for yourself?” I snap, getting up from the couch. I don’t mean to snap, but I need her to confirm what happened. I really need this. I need closure for my mother. She was everything to me as a kid, and it’ll help with the pain I feel every time I think about her, every time I have a faint memory of her. I deserve to know what happened to the only person who loved me as a child.
Judy bawls up her fists and shuts her eyes, tears trickling down her cheeks.
Poppy strokes my back, seeing how upset this is making me. She gets up from the couch, strolling toward Judy, patting her back. “My husband needs closure for his mother’s death. Please, we will pay you any amount of money.”
Judy looks at her and shakes her head. “I told you I don’t know anything, please.”
“Did my father threaten you?” I ask. “He won’t do anything, I promise. I’ll protect you. I have way more resources than him.”
“Please,” she whispers, begging now.
“I read in an article that your husband died in a fire… he was a firefighter.” Poppy’s tone is low.
I had no idea she knew that information. She must have researched Judy prior to coming here. That’s one thing I love about Poppy, she goes above and beyond to help the ones she loves. I couldn’t see it before, but she was made for me. To soften my cold heart.
“What if someone purposely murdered your husband and it wasn’t an accident? Wouldn’t you want to know? Would you w—”
“How dare you use my husband’s death to manipulate me into getting what you want out of me!” she screams at the top of her lungs, causing her grandson to burst into tears. She picks him up from the floor, cuddling him. “Get out, both of you!” She ushers us to the front door. “Don’t ever come back here.”
Then she slams the door in our faces.
Chance opens the door and we both climb into the back seat of the car.
“How did you know she was married to a firefighter?”
“I did some digging on her when I was working on the interior design of my office. She seems like a tough cookie, and I didn’t want to use her husband’s death against her, but it will at least cause her to think about it.” She rests her head on the back of the leather seat.
I place my hand on her thigh, stroking it. There isn’t anyone I would rather have by my side to help me through this.
“Thank you,” I say.
