“Oh, those old generators can be quite dangerous, you know.” She takes a tentative sip of tea. “Such a shame. Poor thing died after three days of clinging to life in a hospital with third-degree burns.”
Aimee feels herself shiver. She’s not imagining it, there’s a subtle glee in the woman discussing Cathy Stocker’s gruesome death.
“I want to know the truth.” Aimee’s voice is tentative. “Was Cathy murdered?”
“Well, let’s put it this way. She had a big mouth and she was pissing off a lot of people. We live in a small community. Not geographically, mind you, it stretches over many miles, but it’s not that many people. I heard from Arlette that someone was looking into the disappearance of Michael and Dex, but I couldn’t have been the only one who heard that. I visited Cathy. She couldn’t keep her mouth shut, even after I offered to buy her a new refrigerator to keep her quiet. Nope, she was determined to drag all this out of the past and into the present. I told her it wasn’t safe. I warned her. I told her there were people who would rather see her dead than stir up this hornet’s nest. But did she listen to me?”
“So, shewasmurdered,” Aimee says. “And you came here.”
“I came because Cathy said she’d been talking to someone who thought Michael was living here. I had to alert Michael. I didn’t plan to stay. I parked in your little suburban neighborhood one night. There was some kind of block party and I wanderedonto your block. I saw you. I saw all of you. I told myself I was just here for a short visit—to warn him. But once I saw Michael with the kids…” She squeezes the bridge of her nose. “I hadn’t seen my boy in so many years. Never even seen my grandkids. Being apart from him all this time has been hard. Once I saw him I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I got curious. About you, Aimee.” She stops and smiles at Aimee, and for a flash Aimee sees her the way she did when they first met—as a kind older woman, good with kids and cats. But then Aimee remembers that isn’t who she is.
“I wanted to get to know my grandkids,” Jen says. “And when I met you, Aimee, I really liked you. I could tell you liked me, too. And that time I got to spend with Noa, I wouldn’t trade it. But last Tuesday I heard some news—they’ve issued a warrant for Michael’s arrest. It’s only a matter of time until they track him here. I had to warn him.”
“You want him to run from the police?”
“The police?” She scoffs. “The cops are the least of it. I don’t know how much Michael’s told you about me, about our life in California.”
“Not much, actually.”
“Ray, that’s his stepdad, and me, the people we know, we’re not the kind of folks who go to the police to settle our problems, if you get my drift. What Michael and Dex did was stupid, and it cost Dex his life. But Michael can’t come back to testify. It might be selfish, but him coming back will ruin my life. Ruin Ray’s. If he testifies, it won’t be safe for me and Ray to stay.”
“Testifies to what? What happened exactly?”
Gwen gives a startled cry. Aimee looks up to see Scott walking through the living room toward them. She jumps up to meet him but stops just before throwing herself into his arms. A part of her longs to bury her head against his chest and squeeze hard. What she wouldn’t do to be rocked back and forth in his strong arms, for him to kiss the top of her head.
But anger stops her. Everything that has happened in the past few days is now a barrier between them that she cannot cross. “Where have you been?”
The question is sharp. The gratitude that he’s safe is lost in the fury that she has been keeping under control.
“I’m so sorry, Aimee, I really am.”
Aimee wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. “What is going on? Why didn’t you come home? Why didn’t you call me? Text me?” She makes a fist and slams it against his chest. “Do you have any idea what this has been like?” She hits him again. “How could you do this to me? Not come home?”
“He’s never coming home, honey,” Jen says. “He can’t.”
Aimee whips her head around, shocked. She is disgusted by the hint of a smile around the woman’s mouth. “That is not up to you.”
“Mom, please,” Scott says. “Let me handle this. I want to talk to Aimee alone.”
“Fine.” His mother pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. “I’m going outside to have a smoke.” She nods at Gwen. “Join me?”
Gwen looks to Aimee as if to ask if that’s okay. Aimee nods her okay and then stands still, her arms stiff at her sides until the two women have left the house. Once the front door has slammed, Scott sits on the couch. He pats the seat next to him but Aimee chooses a threadbare chair nearby.
“I know I’ve been so selfish, Aimee,” Scott says. “I know it must have been so hard—”
“Did you kill that boy?” she asks.
He twitches. “What? No, I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Dexter Kohl, right? That’s his name?”
“You think I’m capable of murder?”
She chews on her lip, thinking about this. “No. At least I didn’t think so. But I also didn’t think you were capable of lying to me,Michael.”
“I can explain everything.”
“I also didn’t think you were capable of leaving your family to wonder for three days if you were dead or alive. I deserve to know the truth. What happened in California? Your mom said something about testifying.”