Janice Kay - Back Against The Wall

Dad looked at her. “Bethie? Do you think I need a lawyer?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “Talking to an investigator at this point without an attorney present wouldn’t be smart.” She probably hadn’t been smart yesterday. She hesitated. “Did he tell you—”

“I did,” Detective Navarro said.

Tears formed in her father’s brown eyes. “I wondered why we never heard from her, but I never dreamed...” He swallowed. “To think she was here all this time.”

She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I know. Let me see the detective out, and then I’ll come back.”

His head bobbed. She stared a challenge at Detective Navarro, who gave a choppy nod and headed for the front door. He opened it but turned, looming over her.

“He only looks guiltier, insisting on an attorney instead of being willing to talk to me.”

Beth huffed. “Does that argument convince many people?”

“I’d think you would want to know who killed your mother.”

“I do.” She couldn’t falter, not now. Not in front of him. “But I know it wasn’t Dad, and I won’t let you bulldoze him.”

“Because that’s how I do my job.” His pissed gaze held hers long enough to sting before he shook his head. “Good day, Ms. Marshall.”

Feeling as if she’d lost something, she had a lump in her throat as she shut the door. Maybe...maybe this was the mistake.

But almost immediately, she shook her head. She’d done what was best for her father. Detective Navarro—she couldn’t think of him as Tony now—had been nice yesterday. He’d really seemed to feel protective where she was concerned. But even if he had been sincere, it wasn’t as if there was anything personal between them. With her mother’s identity confirmed, he had gone straight for the obvious, and convenient, suspect: Dad. With a side thought for Matt because he’d lived here, too.

Beth understood, but she knew her father.

She couldn’t believe a teenage Matt would have done anything that horrible either, but he wouldn’t appreciate his sister interfering. Maybe she should call to warn him...but the stuff he’d said yesterday still rankled, as did his willingness to believe the worst about his own father.

Who else, Beth? Use your head, for once. And not to forget his additional digs. You live in your own damn dream world, just like he does. Everybody is nice. Well-meaning.

As if not sharing his cynicism made her stupid.

She’d always sensed his underlying contempt. It had to be tied to the anger at Dad that she didn’t fully understand. Matt didn’t have much respect for Emily, either. Did he feel that way about all women? Beth had wondered, unable to tell despite watching him closely when he was with Ashley.

Most of the time, she tried to pretend their family was normal. What family didn’t have tensions? But she’d been kidding herself, of course. So maybe Matt was right.

You live in your own damn dream world, just like he does.

She blew out a breath then turned to go to Dad. It wasn’t in her to let him down when he needed her most. Even if he didn’t know he needed her.

* * *

ANGRY AND FRUSTRATED, Tony drove straight to Wakefield College, taking for granted that Matt would be at work. Would he arrive to find Matt already lawyered up? Remembering Beth’s fierce glare, he thought it likely.

The college, on a semester system rather than quarters, didn’t hold a summer session, but the admissions department would be busy. Summer was the season for kids between their junior and senior years of high school to tour colleges with their parents.

He had to park a distance away, by the tennis courts, and walk to Memorial Hall, the granite-block edifice with a bell tower that housed the college administrative offices. Like everyone else in town, he’d become accustomed to hearing the hours tolled.

The campus was noticeably deserted, although he saw a cluster of people moving between buildings across the broad lawn that, in another six weeks, would be filled with students reading in the shade of leafy trees or playing Frisbee or soccer in the sunny center.

The daylight basement level of Memorial Hall housed some offices, but probably not Admissions, he decided. No reason for the parents, who wrote the tuition checks, to see the basement, right?

On the first floor, high ceilings and wide halls led in three directions. He immediately saw a sign pointing to the right to admissions and financial aid offices. Inside Admissions, a young woman sitting behind a desk beamed at him. “How may I help you?” Before he could answer, her gaze lowered to his badge and weapon. The smile dimmed.

“Is Matt Marshall in today? I’m Detective Navarro.” Tony smiled reassurance. “He knows me.”

“Yes, I’ll just—” She jumped up and scurried to one of several closed doors with glass insets. After knocking, she cracked it open and talked quickly.

A moment later, she returned to the desk, and Matt appeared in the doorway. “Detective? Come on in.”

He wore chinos with knife-sharp creases and a polo shirt the same shade of blue as his eyes. He smiled, undoubtedly for the benefit of the receptionist and an older, rumpled man who stepped out of a second office and raised his eyebrows when he saw Tony.

Matt closed the door behind him and went around to sit behind his desk. “Have a seat.”

No attorney.

Tony sat. “I’m sorry to interrupt your day, Mr. Marshall, but—”

“The body is my mother, isn’t it?”

Beth hadn’t called, then. Because he had asked her not to or because she was mad at her brother after yesterday?

“Yes. I’m sorry. None of this is pleasant.”

“Pleasant.” Matt cracked a laugh. “I assume you’ve already told my father.”

“And your sister.”

“Beth.”

“That’s right.” It was easy to forget about Emily, although he couldn’t let himself. “I plan to sit down this afternoon to talk to your father at length, but I’m hoping you can give me some time right now.”

“Why not?” Matt made every effort to look relaxed; he pushed back his chair and crossed his right ankle over his left knee.

Tony wasn’t fooled. “You were old enough to be observant about the state of your parents’ marriage,” he began. “Or anything else out of the ordinary happening in your home at the time.”

“Out of the ordinary?” Matt looked incredulous. “Like what? Dad and I being best buds? Beth throwing temper tantrums instead of trying to convince everyone we were happy, happy, happy?”

Huh. That was a lot of anger to hold onto for so long.

“Even that long ago, you and your father didn’t get along.”

“No, we didn’t. Although I’m not sure he noticed. He lives in his own little world.” Color streaked his cheeks as he apparently recalled that Tony had overheard him saying much the same to his sister. “I didn’t mean what I said to Beth. I get frustrated with her constant defense of Dad. She refuses to acknowledge how...lacking he is.”

“Lacking in what way?” Not that Tony couldn’t guess.

“In any way? I figure if he and Mom ever got it on in bed, the initiative had to have been hers. His body must have cooperated—hey, they had to have done it at least three times, right?—but he was probably thinking about some philosophical conundrum while he pumped away.” He muttered an obscenity, swiped a shaking hand over his face and gave up on the relaxed pose. Both feet on the floor, he rolled his chair close enough to the desk to allow him to brace his arms on the blotter. “That was crude. I’m sorry, but, you know, I wanted a father, sort of like my friends had. A guy who’d pitch a baseball, come to games, give me advice. Me, I had to depend on my mother.” Anger rolled off him in waves, but he managed a shrug. “And then she was gone.”