Chapter 22 #2
In my peripherals, Archer’s jaw grits and releases, while across the room, Sylvia presses a kiss to Josey’s hand. Her wrist. Her palm.
“Has she asked any questions?” Drake asks, his voice low.
“Just the standard kind.”
Curious, he lifts a brow.
“She wanted to know if Josey was in pain.”
Understanding, he nods and goes back to watching them. For twenty-five minutes, two detectives and two doctors stand guard and hope, like always, to get through the day without absorbing someone else’s grief.
Though I’m not sure any of us are capable of quite that much detachment. Not even the formidable, always-too-serious Detective Banks, the man who would have my husband believe he feels nothing.
For nearly half an hour, our phones go unchecked, our emails pile up, our worlds continue to move outside of us, and when Sylvia’s tears slow, Aubree pulls up a second stool and takes a seat beside her.
Sylvia works through a fresh box of tissues and stares up at the two men who are more similar than they are different. I’m not sure they see it the way the rest of us do, and I’m not sure Archer is ready—or ever will be—to acknowledge it.
But to love him means to see the secrets he’s not ready to vocalize, the way he sees mine, even when I wish I could make them go away. It’s to hear the things he leaves unsaid, and to feel his pain even when he’d swear he feels none.
They butt heads not because they come from two different sides of the same war, but because they stand on the same front line, they fight the same monsters, and they were told all their lives they could never serve the same commanders.
But they have been. Always.
“Do you know who did this to my baby yet, detectives?” Sylvia’s chest bounces with the sobs she swallows down. “Have you figured it out yet?”
“We’re working really hard to narrow things down,” Drake rumbles before Archer can. “Chief Mayet told us you were coming in today, so we thought we could stop by and answer any questions you had.”
“I only have the one.” She sniffles and scrubs fresh tissues beneath her nose. “I just need to know who did this. I need to know they won’t get away with it.”
“Maybe we could ask you some questions then?” Archer offers her a small curve of his lips. It’s not even a smile. Not really. But an attempt at kindness. “If you’re not feeling up to it, then that’s okay. But if—”
“It’s okay.” She swallows heavily. Noisily. “Please ask, because maybe I can answer and help my baby.”
“We’ve interviewed all of Josey’s tutoring clients.” Drake reaches around to his back pocket and takes out a tattered notebook. “We also spoke to Tairneyy. And Caleb.”
Fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks, she nods.
“They’re really awesome kids. I’ve always loved that Tairneyy’s family filled a lot of those small gaps I couldn’t.
Her dad is a sweet man, and her mom loved Jose like she was her own daughter.
” She draws a shuddering breath. “I know I’m not supposed to like my teenage daughter’s boyfriend, but Caleb is a good kid, too. He became a great man.”
“Did Josey ever talk to you about the Prim family?” Archer asks. “Scott and Tara are twins.”
“Yeah. Just a year younger than Jose. She didn’t talk about them as much as some others.
Like the Carpenters?” She turns on her stool and traces a shaking fingertip over Josey’s palm.
“She’s been with some of these kids for years.
She cared for them. Though I think Susan Carpenter might’ve been her favorite. ”
“Did she dislike the Prims?” Drake presses. “Or simply hadn’t bonded with them as much, since she hadn’t been with them as long as some of the others?”
“I think…” Considering, she exhales a shaky breath.
“I think the Prims were a complicated bunch, because there were two of them. Same age, same time every week, same home. Jose wanted to work in forensic psychology for a myriad of reasons. Some, because of her own parental trauma. Some, because, right or wrong, I’d tell her stories I’d heard at work over the years.
I never shared names or identifying details, but the people I’ve cared for have lived long, full lives.
Some served in the Second World War. Some were the children of people who served.
It’s obvious these traumas travel down through generations, and although the stories I’ve heard can be horrible, they’re also interesting, at least from an educational standpoint.
It’s not like Jose often tutored children in homes rife with abuse, since those are not typically the families that paid for tutors anyway, but sometimes, things slip through. ”
“Things like what?” Drake wonders. “Who?”
“Like Tara Prim.” She lowers her eyes and studies her daughter.
“That family didn’t present in obvious ways.
Their children were fed. They were clothed and never suffered physical abuse.
But Jose was already set on her college pathway, and meeting the Prims felt a little like the stories I’d told: horrible, but academically interesting, too. ”
“Are you saying you believe Tara Prim is a victim of abuse?” Archer presses.
She nods. “The emotional and mental kinds. The abuse suffered inside homes where families care a great deal about their social image. The Prims would never deprive Tara of clean clothes or food to eat, since that would look bad amongst society. If Scott had been her only client inside that home, she would’ve left a long time ago, but he wasn’t, and she’d bonded with Tara.
Not quite like she’s bonded with her longer-term clients, but she cared for the girl.
She didn’t want to leave her behind when it was clear she needed help. ”
“Did Josey ever tell you about the time Scott suggested they study in his bedroom?”
Cold, hard conscientiousness glitters in Sylvia’s lifting eyes. “His bedroom?”
Archer nods. “A few weeks ago, he decided he didn’t like studying in his dining room, where the whole family could see, so he insisted they move to his bedroom.
Josey’s aversion to confrontation had her agreeing to the move, but after just half an hour, Scott touched her leg and expressed that he’d like to get to know her on a romantic level. ”
Sylvia’s breath comes faster. Harder. Furious. “And?”
“There was no big blow-up,” Drake inserts. “No shouting or loud rejections. She simply told him she wasn’t interested, and then she went back to the dining room. That was the end of the situation.”
“She didn’t…” She shakes her head. “Jose never told me.”
Probably because she knew you’d want to kill him.
“Do you think he hurt her?” She drops her gaze again and blinks fresh tears onto her cheeks. “Rejection can feel really loud to those who care most of all about their image, even when the rejection was spoken quietly.”
“We’d like to concentrate our investigation in this direction,” Archer hedges. “But we have no proof right now. He has an alibi, and disliking a person is not enough to push forward with a murder charge. Add in that he’s still a minor, and this case becomes even trickier.”
“S-so how do we get proof?” She sniffles. “It’s not like anyone in that family will admit he did it.”
“We run the case,” Drake answers. “We dig until we have irrefutable evidence, and then it doesn’t matter what anyone is willing to confess.”
“Has Josey said anything else about them over the last eight months?” Archer asks. “Anything at all? You might not even think it’s relevant, but the more information we have, the closer we’ll get to answers.”
She closes her eyes, sandwiching Josey’s hand between her palms and draws a deep breath.
She holds it for a long minute, calming her hitching lungs and squeezing fresh tears onto her cheeks, then she releases it again and shakes her head.
“We talked about all of her clients over the years. Unimportant things, like how Susan Carpenter was trying out for the school play. How the Mundys got a new dog last Christmas.” Opening her eyes, she looks up at Archer.
“Jose always wanted a dog, but I just…” She exhales a small groan.
“I couldn’t do that for her. She judged the Mundys for getting a puppy at Christmas because by Easter, they’d re-homed him.
He was too much, she said. Too large. Too untrained.
She didn’t intend to be judgmental or unkind, but she was human, and she’d always wanted one of her own.
” She draws a shaking breath. “When she spoke of the Prims, it was most often about the parents.”
“How so?” Drake questions. “Can you give us examples?”