His heart spasmed as she kept crying. He doubted she even heard his comforting, then bracing, words.
“You’re making yourself sick,” he finally said, gently shaking her. “You’re scaring me, Mom.”
She gradually pulled herself together, but it was a slow process, painful to watch. The worst was when his dignified, often reserved mom realized how awful she must look.
She tore herself away from him. “I need to... Oh!” She raced for the house and disappeared inside. The screen door slammed behind her.
Rueful, he climbed the porch steps and decided to wait outside. He settled on the glider and set it into motion. Staring at her front garden through the screen of some kind of vine—a clematis, he thought—gave him too much time to brood.
What had happened to set her off like that? Was it something to do with him showing up? Or—damn it to hell—was she having regular breakdowns she’d never admitted to him?
He remembered his conversation with Holly Cromer and her too-brief reply when he asked if her parents had accepted her. No. They didn’t. Madison’s expression when she talked about her mother rose in his mind’s eye, the hurt and the knowledge that she hadn’t mattered to her own mom as much as she should.
He groaned and bent his head back, closing his eyes.
Troy didn’t open them until he heard the squeak of the screen door.
Mom’s face was still blotchy, but she’d carefully reapplied her makeup and brushed her hair.
He rose to his feet.
“No, sit down.” She joined him, sitting with her knees together and her hands clasped on her lap. Her back was very straight. “I’m sorry, Troy.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he said gruffly. “I know you’re still grieving. I hope you aren’t still crying every day.”
Mom shook her head. “No. This...wasn’t about your father at all.” As he’d done earlier, she stared straight ahead. For a moment he feared she was going to cry again, but she firmed her jaw. “This time, it was all me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Since you...confronted me...” She swallowed. “I told myself I would start taking walks again, if only to prove you wrong.”
Oh, hell. “That’s what you were doing when I drove up. Trying to make yourself go for a walk.”
“Yes.” She was rocking slightly, clearly unconscious of the movement. “Every day, I’ve put on my walking shoes and told myself I was being silly. All I had to do was take one step and then another. I promised myself today I’d only walk to the corner and back. Of course I could do that!”
“But you couldn’t,” he said softly.
“I couldn’t.” Her face was breaking down again, becoming something—someone—unfamiliar. “I could not make myself take a single step farther. I...started to shake.”
“Oh, Mom.” Hurting for her, he scooted over enough to wrap his arm around her again. “I hope you know how brave you were to try.”
“Brave? I’m a coward.” Her smile was pitiful, but she was trying. “I have been...refusing to admit to myself how crippled I’ve become. I told myself it was natural to want to stay close to home. Why should I go to the hairdresser when she’d come to me? I never liked grocery shopping, anyway. Oh, I had a thousand excuses. I was mad when you accused me of something I told myself was completely ridiculous.” She looked away from him. “Only, it wasn’t.”
“I didn’t see it, either, Mom.” He hesitated, then decided she deserved honesty from him, even if it showed him in a bad light. “I don’t think I wanted to. I was impatient with the pace of your grief.”
She met his eyes at last. “I could tell. And that’s all right, John.” She shook her head when he tried to speak. “No, listen. The part that I think isn’t all right is that I can’t help wondering if you’ve grieved at all. Have you let yourself, in your heart, accept that Dad is gone? Have you really cried?”
He opened his mouth to say an immediate and brusque don’t be ridiculous, but even without hearing the words aloud was stunned by the echo. How we lie to ourselves.
“I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice having acquired a rasp. “Yeah, I’ve cried. I cried at the funeral.” But instead of accepting that as natural, he had been embarrassed. What an idiot. “Not much since.”
“Your father and I...weren’t often apart.” She examined his face, as if to be sure he understood. “I haven’t been able to avoid knowing that he is utterly and forever gone. But you didn’t see him as often. It would have been easier to think of him as temporarily absent instead.”
“Yeah.” Now he was hoarse. “I guess that’s it. I think of things I want to say to him, and then it’s a jolt when I remember I can’t. Only—” He hunched his shoulders. “Hell, I guess I have a way of shoving that knowledge out of mind.”
Wiser than he’d known she was, his mother nodded. “It’s different for a son or daughter, anyway. You expect to lose your parents. It’s part of the flow of your life. I suppose I’d hoped...” Her voice caught. “Hoped...”
“That you’d go first,” Troy said gently. “Or together.”
“Together,” she whispered. “When I thought of it, that’s always what I imagined. You read about the couples who die within a few weeks of each other when they’re in their eighties or nineties. When one dies, the other lets go. But I’m fifty-seven. It’s too soon! I know that, but a part of me...” She choked again.
He took her in his arms again and she buried her face against his chest. His eyes stung. He felt unbelievably petty for having been hurt because she so obviously wanted to be with her husband, wherever he was, instead of her son.
But I don’t need her, not the same way as a spouse does, and she’s always known that. She’s known the time would come when I’d find the woman I would need for a lifetime.
Madison’s name sang in his head, softly, but he heard it and knew.
However much he loved his mother, it wasn’t the same.
Mom, he realized, wasn’t crying this time, only gathering strength from him. Without saying a word, he tried to give her as much as she needed.
After a minute, she straightened away from him. “Tomorrow I will call Dr. Drayton and ask for the name of a counselor.” A tiny bit of mischief showed in her eyes. “One who doesn’t come to the house.”
Troy smiled at her. “Whenever I can, I’ll drive you.”
“I do still have friends.” She patted his hand. “There’s something else you could do for me, Troy.”
“Anything,” he said, and meant it.
“I believe, with you beside me, I could go for that walk. If you have time...”
“Yeah.” He had to clear his throat. “I have time.” He stood and crooked his elbow. “A walk sounds good to me.”
His mother laid her hand on his arm. “Maybe we could talk about your father.”
Crap. He didn’t like the way his eyes still burned. “We can do that,” he agreed.
“And your Madison. I’d like to hear more about her, too.”
Talking about Madison was definitely something he could do. “Sure,” he said. He smiled. “Did I tell you she made me go swimming?”
Mom laughed. “What are you going to make her do in retaliation? Go fishing?”
They reached the sidewalk and turned onto it in tandem. “I was thinking mountain climbing.”
Tension quivered through her touch, but his mother’s step did not falter.
He bent his head to see her face as she walked, shoulders straight, her dignity restored. His pride in her made his chest feel as if it was being crushed.
“Or marrying me. That might work, too,” he heard himself say.
“Oh, Troy.” Mom’s smile trembled. He knew she hadn’t forgotten what she was doing, the distance widening between her and her refuge. But she was happy for him. Taking this walk partly for him.
“Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?” he asked, and she chuckled.
“Not nearly as often as you ought to.”
They were nearly to the corner, and despite her fear, Mom was smiling.
* * *
MADISON HAD JUST let Troy in the door when her phone rang. “Excuse me,” she said, and hurried to the kitchen where she’d set it on the tiled counter.
Aware that Troy followed and was studying his own vase sitting on the windowsill, she picked up the phone.
Her pulse bumped. Oh, Lord. It was her father calling. Instinct screamed, Ignore it. Common sense had her wondering if she’d then have to lie to Troy about who the caller was.
With an apprehensive look at his back, she answered. “Hi, Dad.”
Troy turned slowly, his gray eyes darkening to flint.
“Madison,” Dad said. “Am I getting you at a bad time?”
“I was about to go out to dinner with a friend.”
“Friend?”
He didn’t, of course, ask if the friend was anyone he knew, because he hadn’t met any of her friends or colleagues in Frenchman Lake.
“No, I’ve begun dating Troy recently.”
Troy’s eyes narrowed a flicker.
“Is it anything serious?” her father asked.
Oh, boy. Between the rock and a hard place. “He’s actually standing here, Dad.”
He chuckled. “I see. I’ll let you go, then. I didn’t have anything special to say. You’ve been on my mind lately, that’s all.”
The flash of bitterness surprised her. “Are you sure it isn’t Mitchell King who’s been on your mind?”
Any denial was too slow coming.
“I thought so,” she said flatly. “Dad, I do need to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
“You’re wrong,” he said. “You haven’t sounded like yourself recently. I think something is wrong.”
Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, it is. Funny thing, I’m a little rattled to find out you have something ugly in your past. And, hey, to discover that Mr. Righteous is fully capable of lying to his daughter. Other than that, no problem.
Um...except for the cop standing here listening to every word.
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night, Dad.” She touched End without waiting for a response and dropped the phone in her purse, then lifted her chin. “Shall we go?”
“Do you want to tell me what that was about?”
“No, actually, I don’t.”
He scrutinized her for an unnerving minute, then bent his head. “All right. Shall we?”
Madison swept out of the kitchen ahead of him, keys in her hand. Neither spoke until they were in his SUV.
“You have anything special in mind for dinner tonight?” he asked, starting the engine.
“Something casual. I’m not very hungry.”
“How about Brannigan’s again?”
“Yes, that’s fine.” In through the nose, out through the mouth. Why was she so upset? Because Dad is lying. Because Troy gets a cold, predatory expression in his eyes every time I mention Dad. Because I’m scared.
Because she wanted to trust and believe in her father—but she did trust and believe in Troy.
“I’m sorry.” Her hands clenched her purse. “That was rude.”
“No, honey. That was honest. I keep telling you I understand.”
His voice came out rough and still so tender she could hardly bear it.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be dating until, well, this is over.”
His foot caught the brake. “Is that what you want?”
Her panic was the finger-in-the-electrical-socket kind. The hair on her arms stood up. “No!” she cried. “You know it isn’t. I love spending time with you. But...what if...?”
“I end up arresting your father?” The tenderness was gone. So was all other emotion.
Madison nodded.
“That’s something you have to decide. It won’t change how I feel about you.” Still flat.
She wanted to beg, What do you feel for me? Pride wouldn’t allow her.
“I know,” she said. “I know you’re doing your job. And the right thing to honor your father’s memory. It’s just...if you’re the one to prove my father is capable of something so awful...” Throat thick, she broke off again. “If he did something like that, what does it make me?”
Troy’s big hand closed over both of hers, still knotted on her purse. “It doesn’t change who you are. Your dad may have made mistakes, but he raised you to believe in certain principles. The sad part will be knowing he didn’t always live by them, but this is about him, Madison.” His voice had firmed; it compelled her to believe. “Him. Not you.”
She did some more deep breathing. “Yes. I know you’re right. Most of the time I’m fine. It’s only sometimes that I freak.”
“Like every time he calls.”
“Um...yes.”
Without her noticing, Troy had pulled into a parking space in the small lot next to the restaurant. Now he took his hand from hers to set the emergency brake and turn off the engine.
He didn’t move for a long minute, though, only gazed straight ahead through the windshield at the sand-blasted brick wall of the old building. “Your first instinct when you read what my father wrote was to fiercely insist he was wrong, your dad would never do anything like that.”
Madison sat silent, not moving.
He turned his head, compassion in his eyes. “Why the change, Madison? Where did that fierce belief go?”
She had trouble even drawing a breath. When had she begun to wonder whether Dad was capable of murder when his reputation was threatened?
“I don’t think I’ve lost it.” She was in the grip of a revelation. “I don’t.” Oh, God, the relief was enormous. “But...I suppose I do believe he was blackmailed, which means he did something crummy. Knowing that shakes my image of him. And that has me thinking, and now I’m seeing shades of his personality I never let myself acknowledge before. Which,” she concluded, “makes me mad, because why couldn’t I ever make a mistake? Why did he pretend he was perfect?”
“I don’t know.” Troy was smiling at her, as if he was proud of her. “But I think maybe now you have to find out.”
She blinked a couple of times, bemused. “Here’s where you say, ‘That may not be such a bad thing.’”
“Yeah.” He smiled a little and leaned over and kissed her, his lips gentle. When he lifted his head, he looked gravely at her. “I don’t want to lose you over this, Madison.”
She opened her mouth with every intention of saying, You won’t. But nothing came out.
They gazed at each other. Finally he nodded acknowledgment and opened his car door, coming around to meet her as if nothing was wrong. As if nothing had changed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
OVER THE NEXT couple of weeks, Troy was painfully conscious that something had changed between him and Madison. He was doing his damnedest to pretend it hadn’t, and thought she was, too, but he couldn’t get that one moment out of his mind. He’d known from the beginning that, if he had to arrest her father, her reaction could get between them, but Troy had begun to hope they were solid enough for their relationship to survive anything.
He’d told his mother he wanted to marry Madison, but apparently that kind of outcome wasn’t on her radar. She seemed totally fixated on the outcome of this murder investigation.
He was afraid that if he tried to tell her he was in love with her, it would come across as a demand: me or him.
God, he thought, maybe that’s exactly what I would be doing. He did know he was desperate for reassurance, and had been struggling for weeks to keep himself from begging for it.
Was that pitiful or what?
Madison was under a lot of emotional pressure right now. How would it help if he applied more? Sometimes love meant keeping your mouth shut. Being patient.
Troy had to ask himself whether he’d allowed his innate muleheadedness to drive him into making a huge mistake, one that was hurting Madison. His father was dead. Joe Troyer would never know whether he’d been right or wrong about his friend Guy.
If Troy went to Dad’s grave to say, “I arrested the killer, Dad,” the words wouldn’t mean any more than the roar of the mowers that kept the grass down. Dad was deaf to all of it.
And then there was the distinct possibility that he would have preferred Troy to leave well enough alone. To ignite the confession of moral weakness and let it turn to insubstantial ashes.
I was already in love with Madison, even if I hadn’t admitted it to myself. And yet, his righteous anger hadn’t allowed him to seriously sit back and think, Who is to be served if I pursue this?
So now he was stuck with a bigger question. What’s it going to cost me?
In the dark hours at night, he told himself it wasn’t going to cost him anything worth having. If Madison really didn’t understand why this mattered to him, she didn’t understand him. If, in the end, her sense of loyalty to her father was that much more powerful than anything she felt for Troy, it meant she didn’t love him. Not the way he wanted and needed.
Not the way his parents had loved each other.
He also knew it was too late to let the investigation go, for a lot of reasons. One was Madison—he knew himself well enough to be aware he couldn’t live without finding out where he rated with her. If he quit now, she might say, “I love you. I would have even if you’d arrested my father,” but would he ever, gut-deep, believe her? Think how easy the words would be to say once she knew he wasn’t going to arrest her daddy.
Backing out of the investigation would do some serious damage to his career, too. He was too near to closing in on answers for either the chief or his lieutenant to buy it if he announced one day, “I’ve asked a lot of questions but I haven’t gotten the right answers, so let’s just close the book again.”
Finally, the truth was that he was mule stubborn. He’d started this, and by God he had to finish it. He had to believe that finding answers and achieving justice did matter. Otherwise, why did he bother? What had his life mattered to this point?
And answers just kept coming. Every person he interviewed gave him another name, or several other names. It was like a pyramid scheme. You pass me a name, and that person passes me two, and those two each hand over three...
Wakefield College 01 - Where It May Lead Page 20
