“You’re lucky your wallet was in the pocket of the jeans you pulled on,” she mused. “Or you’d be depending on me for everything.” She sort of liked that idea, at least as a temporary arrangement, but she knew he wouldn’t.
“See?” he responded. “There’s a lot to be grateful for.”
She smiled at the way his hair stood up. They’d been sleeping for hours, had made love and then slept some more. She wasn’t even aware of the time, didn’t care how late it was. She was sure everybody in Pineview had heard about the fire, doubted anyone would expect her to be at the salon, including those who had an appointment. But she’d called Leanne and asked her to post a sign, just in case. “You’re really okay with letting the rest go?”
“Like I said, it can all be replaced—except the picture of my mother. With some effort and money, I might be able to get a duplicate, but I doubt I’ll try.”
She smoothed the hair out of his eyes. “You had a picture of her?” Claire wished she’d seen it. Because he had no family, no roots, he was used to flying solo, which made it hard to become an integral part of his life. “That’s not an easy thing to lose.”
He ran his finger down her cheek. “It was a mug shot, so probably nothing I’d frame, anyway.”
A mug shot. Claire had always known there was something wrong with his mother. “Tell me about her.”
That muscle jumped in his cheek, letting her know he was as sensitive about the subject as ever, but at least he answered. “There’s not much to tell.”
“Who was she?”
He shifted onto his back. “Her name was Bailey Rawlings.”
“And she was—” she snuggled close, resting her head on his shoulder “—a counterfeiter?”
“Nothing quite so glamorous.” She could hear the dry note in his response to her teasing.
“A bank robber?”
“Far too creative. She was a hooker. And a drug addict.”
Claire leaned up to look into his face. “Well, there you have it.”
His lips pursed. “Have what?”
“Only something as powerful as drug addiction could make her do what she did.”
“That’s how you see it?”
“That’s how I see it.”
“You don’t think that’s too forgiving?”
The dry note was back. The anger he’d felt growing up had slipped deeper and deeper below the surface, but it was still there. “Forgiving her is the only way you’ll be able to move on.”
He studied her for several seconds, touched the end of her nose. “Does that go for you, too? If your stepfather killed your mother, will you be able to forgive him?”
She’d been thinking about Tug a lot—as they spoke to the police, as they drove to the hospital, as they waited for the doctor, as they checked into the motel and drifted in and out of sleep—and she kept coming to the same conclusion. “He didn’t kill her.”
Isaac adjusted his pillow. “Claire, I think you need to be prepared for the fact that he might’ve done just that. All the signs point to him. She was cheating. She’d inherited a lot of money, and he’d get to keep it. He loved her daughters and couldn’t bear the thought of losing them.”
“But whoever killed my mother also killed David. Tug wouldn’t do that. He—he couldn’t have lived that big a lie. I would’ve known it. Intuitively, if in no other way.”
“Come on,” Isaac said gently. “People surprise their loved ones all the time. He could do anything if he was afraid he might be exposed. My mother’s drug addiction was powerful enough to make her abandon her five-year-old. Fear of life in prison could certainly motivate Tug to resort to murder. Whoever’s behind David’s death must’ve had a chunk of change, and your father fits the bill there, too. Contract killing isn’t cheap. It’s not as if Les is some hood who’d do it for fifty bucks.”
“But that means he’s also the one who tried to barbecue us the night before last!”
“Not necessarily. Les Weaver could’ve been acting alone on that one. He’s tied into this now, too. If he’s ever caught, his own life could be on the line. We live in a capital punishment state.”
“What about Roni?”
“We’re back to the evil stepmother being behind it all?”
“She’s not evil. I mean, I’ve never viewed her that way.” But it was true that Claire had a stronger bond with Tug and that his betrayal would hurt far more, because she’d actually trusted him as much as a girl could trust a father. She’d always been a little leery of Roni because, as good as she’d been, she could never compare to Alana. “I’m just saying she had as much to gain as Tug. And now she has as much to lose.”
“You talked to Myles. He couldn’t confirm that April ever came forward with her story.”
“That doesn’t mean she didn’t. Myles didn’t even live in Pineview back then. It was Sheriff Meade she spoke to.”
“Then why isn’t it in the files?”
“Because he either didn’t believe her or—” she cleared her throat “—Roni paid him off.”
Isaac seemed skeptical. “So now we’re talking police corruption on top of everything else?”
“Not corruption, exactly. Just a favor for a friend he didn’t believe was guilty. Maybe he got rid of his notes because he thought April was an angry teen out to malign an upstanding citizen.”
“And in return Roni made a large contribution to his reelection campaign?”
“If you think things like that don’t happen here, you’re naive.”
“I know they happen. I just don’t think you should rely on April’s story without any evidence to back it up.”
Claire frowned. “Okay, then, what about Joe as a suspect? Maybe my mother tried to break up with him and he wouldn’t hear of it. They got into a huge fight that sort of…escalated, and he went too far.” She could easily imagine her sister’s claims that Joe had exposed himself as grounds for an argument. He might’ve killed Alana so she didn’t label him as a pedophile, which could’ve ruined his business as well as his marriage and resulted in his own girls being taken away from him.
“You don’t believe he spent all that time digging in the forest because he’s worried about you, like he said?”