by CJ Lyons
Leah squirmed in her chair. She appreciated Jessica trying to help, but she’d had more than enough of shrinks and counseling for the day. Before she could make an excuse to leave and join Emily in the playroom, a man appeared in the open doorway. He wore a conservative gray suit, white shirt, black tie, and held a leather credential folder up before him.
“Dr. Wright, you’re a difficult woman to track down,” he said as Leah scanned his ID. Defense Intelligence Agency. “George Radcliffe, DIA. Your husband consulted for us.” He snapped the thin leather wallet closed and slid it into his breast pocket. “Sorry for your loss.”
Radcliffe’s expression never changed as he uttered the empty platitude. Leah pushed out of her chair, feeling vulnerable with the government agent standing over her, his posture not aggressive but also not relaxed.
“Did you find something? Do you know who killed Ian? Was it something to do with his government work?” Once she began, the questions came so fast and furious that she could barely restrain herself long enough to allow Radcliffe to answer. “Do you know why? Why Ian?”
Beside her, Jessica also rose, moving to stand behind her desk as if presiding over an impromptu staff meeting. Radcliffe ignored both women, strolling around the perimeter of the room, admiring Jessica’s photos and awards, tracing a finger over the spines of her textbooks. “Dr. Kern—you use your maiden name now?”
“Professionally, yes. Have we met before?”
“Your work with DARPA, I’m very familiar.”
“What does any of that have to do with my husband’s murder?” Leah snapped, her patience long since exhausted.
Radcliffe let a research abstract drift from his fingers back onto the shelf. “I don’t have any answers about your husband,” he told Leah, dashing her hopes. “But I do have questions.” He glanced at Jessica. “Perhaps we should speak in private?”
The last thing Leah wanted was to be left alone with this man who seemed as devoid of emotion as he was of personality. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he already knew all the answers to any questions he might ask, just as she was certain that he already knew all about Jessica’s background, previous research, and life before coming here two years ago.
“No,” Leah said as Jessica joined her, the two women standing together, side by side. “Jessica can stay.”
“Very well, then. What work did your husband bring home with him?”
“Never anything classified—he used a special computer on campus, some kind of dedicated connection? And he never discussed any of his work,” she added, anticipating his next question. “Not beyond generalities. I could learn more about cyber security reading a newspaper than from Ian.”
He didn’t look at Leah, continuing his perusal of Jessica’s photos and books. “Ever own a motorcycle? Specifically, a Victory Hammer 8-Ball?”
“No. But if you know what kind of motorcycle the killer rode you can track him, right?”
Radcliffe ignored her question as he slid out a small framed photo that was partially hidden by the larger photo of Jessica’s son and scrutinized it. Leah couldn’t see what the photo was, but she felt Jessica stiffen beside her, obviously not liking the federal agent’s manhandling of her personal memories.
“Know anyone who has a motorcycle?” he asked Leah, oblivious to Jessica’s discomfort, casually tucking the photo back behind the larger frame, out of sight. “Specifically, a Victory Hammer 8-Ball?”
“No.” Leah stepped forward, trying to snag his attention. “Please look at me when you speak. This is my husband’s life we’re talking about. I’d like to know you’re taking it seriously.”
Radcliffe stopped, his back to her, then slowly, as if it was his idea, he turned to face her. “Actually, Dr. Wright, this is your husband’s death we’re talking about. And I take that very seriously. In fact, I have a team poring through vehicle registrations, searching for the owner of that bike. I have another team tracing your husband’s movements for the past week, to see if anyone was following him. While a third team is digging into your own life, here and back in Pittsburgh—you moved here from there, correct?”
“Yes. But Pittsburgh? That was years ago, why would you—” She paused, digesting his words. “Do you think the killer was targeting me, not Ian? Is that why they sent the flowers?”
His shrug barely creased his well-tailored suit. “We’re examining every possibility.” He glanced at an expensive-looking watch. “I have appointments, but perhaps we could speak more later.” For some reason he looked past Leah as if asking Jessica permission.
Before Leah could ask any of her own questions, a commotion coming from the reception area had her whirling away from Radcliffe, crossing into the hallway.
A woman shouted Leah’s name and Leah froze. She knew that voice. Slowly, fighting every instinct screaming at her to grab Emily and run, she turned toward the reception desk.
Jericho stood at the desk, one hand holding an older woman’s arm, restraining her. The older woman was in her late fifties, with rich auburn hair streaked with gray, and blue eyes so bright they burned. She shook off Jericho’s hand and strode toward Leah, reminding Leah of Nellie. Yet this woman was the opposite of her great aunt in every way.
“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” she demanded. Leah stared at her bright tie-dyed wrap skirt, bohemian fringed tunic, dangling peacock feather earrings, wrist bangles, and rings adorning every finger. Anything to avoid looking her in the eyes.
Leah trembled. She positioned her body against the glass wall of the playroom, hoping to block Emily’s view. Her muscles clenched. She wanted to flee but the eleven-year-old trapped inside kept her frozen. That little girl wanted to fly. Fly straight into the arms of her mother.
Twenty-Seven
“Ruby.” Leah’s voice emerged as a childish, shrill gasp.
Before Leah could move, Jericho stepped forward. “Mrs. Wright, I found this woman trying to get to your daughter’s hospital room. She claims to be your mother.”
Leah stood silent, trying to decide whether to get Emily and run or… what? Let Ruby into their lives, now when they were most vulnerable? “No.”
“Honey,” Ruby pleaded. “Please—”
“Maybe we should move this into my office?” Jessica suggested.
Leah glanced around, searching for an escape, and saw Radcliffe stepping into an elevator, the family drama of no interest to him. She wished she could go with him; even his abrasive dissection of her life would be better than dealing with Ruby. Instead, she nodded to Jessica, who briskly gestured to Jericho and Ruby, leading the way back to her office.
A few moments later they surrounded Jessica’s desk, crowding the tiny office. Leah remained standing and kept herself closest to the door, which she edged most of the way shut, not risking Emily seeing Ruby. Ruby took the chair Leah had sat in earlier. Jessica moved behind her desk while Jericho stood, his back to the bookshelves where he could keep the others in view.
“Mrs. Jackson, care to explain yourself?” Jericho began.
“Jackson?” Leah blurted out. Damn it, just walk away, she told herself. But she couldn’t help it. “What happened to Mrs. Franklin?” He’d been the husband, Ruby’s second, before the boyfriend who’d accompanied Ruby to the hospital after Emily was born, and after the man Ruby had dated when Leah was eleven and she left her at Nellie’s for good.
“It’s Jackson now,” Ruby said without a trace of apology. “Kept it after the divorce.”
“Time flies,” Leah snapped. Ruby had been living in Nellie’s house across the river, not fifteen minutes away from her daughter and granddaughter, for almost two years and she couldn’t even be bothered to tell them she’d changed her name? Again.
“Mrs. Jackson is known to you?” Jericho asked, motioning Ruby to silence.
“She’s my mother.” Leah felt like she was on the witness stand admitting her own guilt. “We haven’t seen each other since my daughter was born, six years ago.”
“I did w
hat you asked,” Ruby protested. “I stayed away. You knew where to find me.” Then the words that twisted Leah’s heart with both hope and fury. Words she’d waited her entire life to hear, but now it was too late. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Leah had no energy to deal with Ruby or her false promises, so she focused on Jericho. “Did you find who sent the flowers? What about the man from the ER? Cochrane? What’s going on? I need to know my daughter is safe.”
Before he could answer, Jericho’s phone rang. “I need to get this.” He left the room, talking to someone named Harper.
Ruby left her chair and turned to Leah. “I was glad you called me.”
“I told you, I wasn’t calling you,” Leah snapped. She sighed. “Jessica, could you excuse us for a moment?”
It was Jessica’s office, but she didn’t argue. Instead she rose from her chair and smiled graciously. “Of course. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” She left, closing the door behind her.
“I want to help,” Ruby said once they were alone—Leah couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been alone with her mother. “Please, I know I can. I’ve been there, I’ve felt what you feel right now.” She took a step toward Leah.
Leah raised her outstretched hand, palm flat like a stop sign and Ruby froze, her arms half lifted as if she’d actually thought a hug would revive two decades of a withered relationship.
“How could you possibly understand what I’m feeling?” Leah raged. “You’d need to be able to love someone other than yourself for that to happen.”
Ruby’s face drained of color. She sank back into the chair, her chest heaving. “How can you say that? You know what I went through. Everything I did, I did for you.”
“Leaving me any chance you got? Dumping me on Nellie so you could run off with your flavor of the week boyfriend? Please.”
Ruby’s entire body twanged, a violin string tightened too far. “She never told you where I was, why I left? All these years, I thought you knew—”
“Knew what?” Leah demanded. What lie would Ruby spin, trying to justify her narcissism?
“Did you ever stop to ask yourself why I showed up drunk after Emily was born?”
Sad to say, Leah never even wondered. Ruby often turned to drugs and alcohol for recreational purposes, but her true cravings were constant praise, bigger better thrills, and lavish affection. If a man bored or disappointed, she’d move on to the next loser, often without bothering with a goodbye or explanation.
“I wasn’t always like that, you know,” Ruby continued. “When I was young, I was just like you. Smart—enough that Nellie gave me money to go to college.” She shook her head as if amazed she’d ever been so young. “And then, then your father came along.”
Even now, all these years later, Ruby refused to use his name. When Leah was little she used to ask Ruby about her father. All the other kids had dads, why didn’t she? Where was he? What was his name? What did he look like? Every time, Ruby would not only not answer, she’d spiral out of control.
Leah learned not to ask anymore.
So now, she kept her breath shallow, not daring to interrupt, not even to breathe. Her father was a gaping black hole in her life, a void that until now Ruby had refused to fill with any answers. Leah sank into a chair, knotting her hands together, holding as still as possible. It might be her first and last chance to ever learn the truth—if she could trust or believe anything Ruby told her.
“Your father,” Ruby sighed. “Nellie hated him, you know. Forbade me to follow him when he left to join the Army, said I’d regret it the rest of my life, sacrificing my education, my future for trailer trash like him. But I had no choice. You know that old saying about falling in love at first sight? We didn’t just fall. We grabbed each other and ran off a cliff, plummeting down, down. We were everything to each other, sun, moon, stars; the rest of the universe could go to hell, and as long as we were together, we wouldn’t even notice.”
She stopped, the distant hum of the heat vent the only sound as she stared unseeing at Jessica’s bookshelves, her gaze filled with longing and sorrow. “And then the Army sends us to Texas. I’m seven months gone with you but already filled to bursting. God, it was so damn hot, I’ve never felt heat like that. Like being roasted on the surface of the sun. And I didn’t know anyone out there, was all alone, waddling around trying to set up a proper home for him—and you. We were only there a week, he’d just started with his unit, when it was someone’s birthday—I don’t even know who—and they all went to some strip club.”
Ruby grimaced. “Nellie was right about him. He was wild. Marriage couldn’t tame him; guess I was hoping having a kid might. Make him want to come home at night without smelling of whiskey and some other woman’s perfume. I still remember that night. Falling asleep with ice cubes melting on my chest and belly and the fan buzzing as high as it could go. The doorbell startled me, but it was you who woke me up. You were kicking and squirming like you were ready to bust your way out even though it was way too early. I thought he’d lost his keys again but then I open the door and—” Her breath rattled through the air between them. “They said he was gone. Bar fight. Hit his head. Dead before the ambulance made it there.”
She rocked forward, hugging her arms around her chest. “They have big, fancy words to describe how I felt,” Ruby continued. “Traumatic grief. Reactive depression. They’re not the right words, though. Try devastated, shattered, consumed. Got so bad I went into preterm labor, almost lost you, too. Docs put me on bedrest—wouldn’t even let me go to his funeral. Army wanted to move me out, but the docs got me an extension, and there I was all alone, stuck in bed, not remembering to eat or bathe and, most of all, not caring if I lived or died. But then, out of nowhere, because Lord knew I hadn’t called her, Nellie showed up. She took care of me, saved me—saved you. After you were born, she brought us back here, thinking I’d heal, that I’d get over him, get my life back… but I never did.”
Ruby huffed out a breath, almost as if she were back in labor. “So, I know how you feel now. I don’t want you and Emily to end up like me. When he died, your father, he took the best part of me with him. And that meant I didn’t have it in me to share with you like a mother should.”
Leah jerked her chin up at that—it was the most maternal thing Ruby had ever said to her. Also the most insulting, implying that she’d ever abandon Emily the same way Ruby had abandoned her, over and over again. “Did you even try? There’s meds, counseling—”
“Of course I tried,” Ruby snapped. “I’m not some monster, to give up on my baby girl without a fight. Everything the doctors gave me made it worse. Didn’t help that you look just like him. Every time I look at you, he’s all I see, it hurts so damned much.”
She tapped her fist against her chest as if her pain was physical. “They put me in the hospital a few times when things got bad—the longest was when you were eleven and I left you at Nellie’s. Did shock treatments. New drugs. Nothing took, not for long. So I figured out my own therapy. Never staying too long in one place, always on the move so the pain couldn’t catch up, couldn’t find me. But it always does.
“You paid the price for that, but I didn’t know any other way. Not until the day you said I couldn’t ever see my own granddaughter.” Ruby glanced at Leah, her expression filled with regret. “I knew, I just knew, that even if I’d lost you, I couldn’t lose Emily, too. So, I cleaned up my act, met and married Joe. He’s a good man, church going, sober, but even he couldn’t give me what I needed most, so we split up. Then Nellie died and I came back here. And the real work began.” She managed a weak smile. “But it was worth it. Because I finally got what I’d been looking for, for so long. My family back.”
Leah simply stared. All those years Ruby treated her as if she was nothing more than a mouth to feed, and it took Ian’s murder for Ruby to suddenly feel whole again, feel like she was now a part of a family?
“Point is,” Ruby continued, oblivious to Leah�
��s seething desire to slap her, “I got over my grief, working through the pain. You will, too. Us Quinn women, we’re strong like that. You and Emily will be just fine, you’ll see. And you have me to help you—not like me, I had no one, had to go it alone.” She raised her face, clearly expecting Leah to thank her for inviting Leah into Ruby’s world of delusion.
“No,” Leah said, surprising herself by how firm her tone was. “I can’t. No.” She’d run out of words to express her feelings, felt drained beyond exhaustion. Ruby’s attempt to wash away decades of neglect by creating an instant family bond was one step too far, too much to ask. “No.”
The door opened after a tentative knock. Jessica stood there holding Emily’s hand. Beyond them, Luka Jericho leaned against the glass walls of the playroom, still on the phone, obviously eavesdropping on Leah and Ruby. Leah spun to face Emily, quickly composing her face—she hoped.
“See, Emily,” Jessica said. “I told you she was all right.” To Leah she said, “Emily was worried when she couldn’t see you from the playroom.”
Emily slid free of Jessica’s hand and stepped inside. She frowned at Leah, a silent scold for making her worry, but then turned and smiled at Ruby. “Miss Ruby, what are you doing here? Mom, look, it’s Miss Ruby, Daddy’s friend.”
As Leah watched in horror, Ruby crouched down and Emily stepped into her waiting arms for a hug. “I’m so sorry about your daddy.” As she held Leah’s daughter, Ruby glanced up at Leah. “I can explain. Later. Please don’t blame Ian.”
But who else was there to blame? Leah gagged back her fury. Ian, what did you do? This was a far greater betrayal than having an affair—to expose Emily to Ruby’s toxicity? Behind Leah’s back? What the hell had he been thinking? She stepped forward to take Emily’s hand, not so gently untangling her from Ruby’s arms. “We’re leaving.”
“Where will you go?” Jessica asked. “If you’d like, you could—”
