was in danger?â
Lauren shook her head. âWhat kind of danger?â
âDo you have any idea who might have wanted to harm your mother?â Captain Mahoneyâs gaze traveled between the two teen-agers.
âNo,â Sam said simply.
Lauren looked over at Bonnie. She said nothing, though the inference was clear.
My new family, Bonnie acknowledged silently. A boy who doesnât seem to give a damn that his mother has been murdered, and a girl who thinks I killed her. Great. Well, at least they have each other, she thought, although looking at them now, sitting side by side, like two ceramic figurines, not touching, features etched in stone, blank eyes directed inward, she thought it unlikely they would be of much comfort to each other in the difficult weeks ahead. And they certainly arenât about to let me comfort them, Bonnie thought, knowing any such gesture wouldnât be tolerated, let alone appreciated. They barely know me, but they know they hate me.
Could she blame them? Hadnât she felt the same way toward the woman her father had married after her parentsâ divorce? Hadnât she openly rejoiced when that marriage had fallen apart? Even now, werenât her feelings something less than cordial toward wife number three? And what about the brother she hadnât spoken to since their motherâs untimely death? How much comfort had he ever provided?
Bonnie closed her eyes, fighting back bitter tears. Now was hardly the time to reopen ugly wounds, to drag old skeletons from the closet. She had far more immediate concerns.
We have a lot in common, she wanted to tell Lauren. I can help you, if youâll let me. Maybe we can help each other.
She felt movement around her and opened her eyes. Captain Mahoney had risen to his feet and was motioning toward the front hall. âIâd like to have a look around now,â he said.
6
âM y God, what happened here?â The words were out of Bonnieâs mouth before she had a chance to stop them.
âI guess she didnât have a chance to clean up yet,â Lauren replied defensively.
âWatch where you step,â Captain Mahoney cautioned. âTry not to touch anything.â
Together, they filed into Joanâs upstairs bedroom: Bonnie, her husband, his children, Captain Mahoney, and Detective Kritzic. They walked as if they were tiptoeing on glass, taking exaggerated steps, knees lifting high into the air, feet careful where they landed. No one spoke, their silence more shocked than respectful, although the expressions on the faces of Joanâs children reflected little of anything at all.
âShe just didnât have a chance to tidy up yet,â Lauren repeated, finding an empty patch of carpet beside an open closet door.
âItâs always like this,â Sam said, leaning back against one pale pink wall.
âIt wasnât like she was expecting company,â Lauren said.
Company? Bonnie thought, turning in small circles in the center of the room, trying to overcome her natural revulsion, to wipe her face clean of judgment. The room was a disaster area, a war zone, a dump site, barely fit forany form of human life, let alone company.
Bonnieâs eyes swept across the room like a broom, as if she were trying somehow to visually transport all the assorted debris into its center, to pull together all the old newspapers that grew along the sides of the walls like weeds, to scoop up the various books and magazines that lay open and twisted on the rose-colored broadloom, to rake in the layers of discarded clothing that spilled from the closet and were strewn everywhere like autumn leaves, to pick up the multitude of crusted-over dishes and half-empty cups of coffee, to empty the scores of ashtrays spilling their ashes everywhere, including the carpet and the once-white bed sheets, the bed looking as if it hadnât been made in weeks, maybe months. Empty liquor bottles lay scattered
Lauren shook her head. âWhat kind of danger?â
âDo you have any idea who might have wanted to harm your mother?â Captain Mahoneyâs gaze traveled between the two teen-agers.
âNo,â Sam said simply.
Lauren looked over at Bonnie. She said nothing, though the inference was clear.
My new family, Bonnie acknowledged silently. A boy who doesnât seem to give a damn that his mother has been murdered, and a girl who thinks I killed her. Great. Well, at least they have each other, she thought, although looking at them now, sitting side by side, like two ceramic figurines, not touching, features etched in stone, blank eyes directed inward, she thought it unlikely they would be of much comfort to each other in the difficult weeks ahead. And they certainly arenât about to let me comfort them, Bonnie thought, knowing any such gesture wouldnât be tolerated, let alone appreciated. They barely know me, but they know they hate me.
Could she blame them? Hadnât she felt the same way toward the woman her father had married after her parentsâ divorce? Hadnât she openly rejoiced when that marriage had fallen apart? Even now, werenât her feelings something less than cordial toward wife number three? And what about the brother she hadnât spoken to since their motherâs untimely death? How much comfort had he ever provided?
Bonnie closed her eyes, fighting back bitter tears. Now was hardly the time to reopen ugly wounds, to drag old skeletons from the closet. She had far more immediate concerns.
We have a lot in common, she wanted to tell Lauren. I can help you, if youâll let me. Maybe we can help each other.
She felt movement around her and opened her eyes. Captain Mahoney had risen to his feet and was motioning toward the front hall. âIâd like to have a look around now,â he said.
6
âM y God, what happened here?â The words were out of Bonnieâs mouth before she had a chance to stop them.
âI guess she didnât have a chance to clean up yet,â Lauren replied defensively.
âWatch where you step,â Captain Mahoney cautioned. âTry not to touch anything.â
Together, they filed into Joanâs upstairs bedroom: Bonnie, her husband, his children, Captain Mahoney, and Detective Kritzic. They walked as if they were tiptoeing on glass, taking exaggerated steps, knees lifting high into the air, feet careful where they landed. No one spoke, their silence more shocked than respectful, although the expressions on the faces of Joanâs children reflected little of anything at all.
âShe just didnât have a chance to tidy up yet,â Lauren repeated, finding an empty patch of carpet beside an open closet door.
âItâs always like this,â Sam said, leaning back against one pale pink wall.
âIt wasnât like she was expecting company,â Lauren said.
Company? Bonnie thought, turning in small circles in the center of the room, trying to overcome her natural revulsion, to wipe her face clean of judgment. The room was a disaster area, a war zone, a dump site, barely fit forany form of human life, let alone company.
Bonnieâs eyes swept across the room like a broom, as if she were trying somehow to visually transport all the assorted debris into its center, to pull together all the old newspapers that grew along the sides of the walls like weeds, to scoop up the various books and magazines that lay open and twisted on the rose-colored broadloom, to rake in the layers of discarded clothing that spilled from the closet and were strewn everywhere like autumn leaves, to pick up the multitude of crusted-over dishes and half-empty cups of coffee, to empty the scores of ashtrays spilling their ashes everywhere, including the carpet and the once-white bed sheets, the bed looking as if it hadnât been made in weeks, maybe months. Empty liquor bottles lay scattered
Similar Books
