CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“Something smells good.”

Ethan stopped typing on his phone and looked up. “Hey, Dad. You’re home.”

Jack draped his suit coat over the back of a kitchen chair and tossed his keys on the table. “And just in time, it smells like.”

Julie stood at the stove, a wooden spoon in her hand and a slow smile spreading across her face. She seemed genuinely happy to see him. Jack went to her and gave her a brief kiss. “What’s for dinner?”

“Turkey meatloaf,” Ethan said. Julie didn’t see Ethan fake gag for Jack’s benefit. Jack shook his head at Ethan. They hated turkey meatloaf and Julie knew it.

“And cauliflower mashed potatoes,” Julie added.

“Need any help?”

Julie paused before answering. “Sure. Grab the plates? Ethan get drinks for us, would you?”

Jack pulled three plates from the cabinet. “Is Eddie here?”

“No,” Julie said. “I thought you might know where he is.”

“No. I haven’t seen him since Saturday night.”

“Oh, he was here this morning,” Julie said, her voice falsely bright.

“You two still fighting?” Jack teased.

Julie laughed, but it sounded forced.

“How was your day, Ethan?”

Ethan stared at his mother’s back, his mouth curled in disgust.

“Ethan?”

Ethan shifted his focus to his father. “Fine.”

“Any tests?”

“No.”

“Any papers?”

“No.”

“What book are you reading in English?”

“To Kill a Mockingbird.”

Jack leaned against the counter and crossed his feet and arms. “In eighth grade?”

“Face it, Dad. Kids nowadays are smarter than you were.”

“Maybe, but I’ll always be smarter than you.”

“We’ll see,” Ethan said. He placed three glasses of water on the table, sat down, and stared at his phone again.

Jack forced himself to meet Julie’s gaze with a smile. “How was your day?”

“You know. Normal stuff. Made some progress on my book.”

“Did you?” From the corner of his eye, Jack saw Ethan look up. “How far along are you?”

“What book?” Ethan asked.

“Not far,” Julie answered Jack. “But it’s pretty fast going. Since it’s based on my blog posts …”

“You had a blog?” Ethan said.

Julie turned. “Yes, honey. I told you that.”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t tell me about a book, either.”

It was the first Jack heard of the blog, too. He tried to mask the tension coiling inside him. No telling what she posted on her blog for the world to see. If there even was a blog. It was difficult to tell Julie’s lies from the truth these days.

“What’s the name of it?” Ethan asked, fingers poised on his phone.

“Oh, I’ve archived all of it on my agent’s advice. We don’t want the posts up there for people to read for free.”

“Smart,” Jack said. Ethan looked at Jack like he’d lost his mind.

“What’s your book about?” Ethan said.

“Oh, you know. My sabbatical.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Ethan said.

“That’s what it was.”

Ethan gaped at Jack with an unmistakable “what the fuck” expression. Jack shook his head, slightly, in warning.

Ethan narrowed his eyes at his mother’s back. “Don’t forget to put in there how you left on my birthday.”

Julie dished up meatloaf, fake mashed potatoes, and salad onto a plate and handed it to Ethan with a false smile. “I also came back on your birthday, or have you conveniently forgotten that little fact?”

“No. I haven’t forgotten anything.”

Julie stopped, stared at Ethan, who was looking at his phone, before dishing up her own dinner. She sat and they ate in silence for a minute. “This is good,” Jack said.

Ethan put his phone down. “So, Troy and Olivia think Ellie—Ms. Martin—has a good chance to win tomorrow.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “I hear she’s going to get crushed.”

“What do you think, Dad?”

Jack shrugged. “I can’t vote.”

“But you want Ms. Martin to win, right?”

Jack furrowed his brows at his son. Where in the world was this coming from?

“I mean, she’s young and pretty cool,” Ethan said. “Olivia says she runs marathons and half-marathons every month. She’s got a drawer full of medals. And she owns practically all of downtown.”

Julie scoffed. “No wonder she wants to pull business back to the square. She’s not as altruistic as she pretends.”

“She’s got better ideas for the town than that old goat Doyle,” Ethan said.

“Since when do you care about what happens in Stillwater?” Julie said.

“Since I live here.”

“If Joe Doyle wins, we won’t live here for long.”

Ethan picked up his phone and slumped down in his chair. “Speak for yourself,” he mumbled.

“Get off your phone,” Julie said.

Ethan put it down with a snap. “Troy’s not replying anyway. I’m supposed to go over there after dinner to study.”

“No, you’re not,” Julie said.

“Yes, I am.”

“First off, it’s too late. Second, I told you you aren’t allowed to go to their house.”

“Since when are you against studying? Was that one of your sabbatical revelations?” Ethan sneered the last two words. “Too bad you didn’t have the realization your cooking sucks.”

“Ethan!” Jack said.

“What? You hate this shit, too.”

“Enough.” Jack’s tone of voice shut Ethan up. Ethan stared sullenly at his plate.

Julie put her fork down and wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin. She folded it, placed it next to her plate, and stood. “And you wonder why I left?” She walked out of the kitchen.

“Did you leave or was it a sabbatical?” Ethan called. “Keep your story straight!”

Jack waited for the bedroom door to slam, but it didn’t. Julie’s calmness was more disconcerting than a fit would have been.

“Ethan, what the hell’s gotten into you?”

“I wish I’d never emailed her,” Ethan mumbled.

Every muscle in Jack’s body froze, as if paralyzed. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. “What?” he managed to say.

Ethan pressed his fork into his fake mashed potatoes and wouldn’t look at Jack.

“When did you email your mother?”

“After I caught you and Ms. Martin.”

Jack swallowed with difficulty. “Did you tell her … what you saw?”

Ethan looked up. “No.”

“When she came back?”

Ethan shook his head. Jack sighed with relief. “Good.” His muscles relaxed. “Please don’t, okay? It will complicate things.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Bringing her back. We were better off without her.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Saturday you act like you want our marriage to work and today you’re being cruel and deliberately baiting her. Do you want her to leave again?”

Ethan sat back and crossed his arms.

“What is it? What’s changed?”

“Do you agree about me not hanging out with Olivia and Troy? She wouldn’t even talk about it.”

“Is that it?”

“Isn’t that enough? They’re my best friends.”

“Did she tell you why?”

“No. Parents never give reasons, just orders.”

Jack pushed his plate away and stuffed his napkin under the plate. He leaned on his crossed arms. “I need to ask you some questions. Man to man.”

“Okay.”

“When you’ve been over at the Grants, have you ever seen anything that makes you uncomfortable?”

Ethan shifted in his chair. “Like what?”

“I’d rather you tell me.”

Ethan shrugged. “Mr. Grant’s pretty strict.”

“With Troy and Olivia?”

“And Mrs. Grant. He’s like the dad in one of those old movies. Comes home, sits down, and drinks a beer while everyone else tiptoes around him.”

“Were you awake when they came home Saturday night?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

“Troy and I were playing video games in the family room. Olivia was in there, too, reading a book, or acting like she was. She kept making comments about our game. I don’t know where Paige was.”

“She was there?”

“Yeah. Babysitting.” Ethan put a derisive emphasis on the last word. “I didn’t hear the car pull up but I heard the yelling when they got out.”

“Hear what they said?”

“No. It was Mr. Grant yelling. Mrs. Grant was quieter. Troy and Olivia sat there, hearing it too but trying to act like they didn’t, or like it was totally normal. Then, we heard her scream.”

“Mrs. Grant.”

“Yeah. Paige comes running through the house and out the front door. Then she starts yelling. Troy gets up, turns off the PS3, and tells me to come on. I follow him back to his room. Olivia goes to her room, and we close the doors.”

Ethan shifts in his chair again and clears his throat. “Troy doesn’t say a word, just pulls his sleeping bag and an extra pillow out of his closet, puts it on the floor and gets in. He tells me to get the light. I do and lay down on his bed. I can’t hear much—his room is at the back of the house—but I hear the car rev up and tear out of the driveway. Then another one. I assumed Paige left.”

“Did Troy ever say anything?”

“Not a word. The next morning, Mr. Grant makes us breakfast and drops us off at church. He said Mrs. Grant was in bed and not to disturb her.”

“Did he say what happened?”

“Said she accidentally shut her hand in the car door.”

“What did Troy and Olivia say?”

“Nothing. We ate our breakfast.” Ethan swallowed and looked at Jack with a stricken expression. “He hurt Mrs. Grant, didn’t he?”

“What makes you say that?”

“When Troy and I got into that fight at school, Troy was weird about the whole thing. Begging his mom to believe he didn’t intentionally hit anyone. You should have seen the expression on her face.”

Jack nodded. He rubbed his neck and gathered his thoughts.

“Did you ever see Mr. Grant? After they came home?”

“No. Just Sunday morning.”

“Did you hear Paige and Mrs. Grant come home?”

Ethan shifted in his seat. “Yeah.”

“What time was it?”

Ethan shrugged. “I wasn’t looking at the clock.”

“What were you doing?”

Ethan shifted again and wouldn’t meet Jack’s eyes. Oh, Jesus.

“Were you with Olivia?’

Ethan nodded.

“Where?” Please don’t say in her bedroom, please don’t say in her bedroom.

“In the living room.” Ethan glanced up at Jack and his eyes went wide. “Nothing like that, Dad! We were just kissing.”

Jack thought back to what he would have tried to do alone in a house with a girl at fourteen years old and doubted it was only kissing.

“Okay, that’s a conversation we’ll have to have another time. For now, I think you should have them come here to hang out. Just for a while. And only when adults are here.”

“So, you agree with her. You don’t think I should be over there.”

“Ethan, it’s complicated. Right now, the best thing is they come over here, okay?”

“I texted Troy they should come over here tonight, and he hasn’t responded. He always responds.”

“Are you worried something’s happened to him?”

“No.”

Jack sighed. “His dad probably won’t let them come over.”

“Why?”

“We questioned him today about a case.”

“What case? The double murder?”

“Ethan, I can’t say.”

“Like I won’t find out.”

“You won’t find out from me.”

“Great. My only friends are going to hate me because of my cop dad. Perfect.” He pushed away from the table, stormed up the stairs, and slammed the door.

Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. He cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen while his family pouted. He hated that Ethan was exposed to what seemed to be domestic abuse, but he hated even more that Troy and Olivia were growing up in the environment.

Up to his forearms in soapy water, Jack washed the dishes by rote, thinking of his father. A burly staff sergeant who wasn’t afraid to use his booming voice to intimidate and abuse his wife and young sons. To Jack’s knowledge, Sean McBride never used fists on his wife, but Jack didn’t know what went on behind their bedroom door. He and Eddie cowered in bed, under the covers with a flashlight, reading Hardy Boys mysteries to each other to drown out the arguing. Jack knew with certainty, though, the relief that washed through their family when the news came Staff Sergeant McBride had lost his life in the Beirut embassy bombing. Life became harder in many ways but much happier in others.

Jack finished the dishes and put the leftovers in the fridge. He leaned against the counter and pulled his phone out of his pocket. His hand hovered over Ellie’s number. The urge to call her and talk about what he’d learned, get her opinion of Brian and his potential for violence was almost impossible to resist. Any reason to hear her voice, though he suspected she would defend her friend’s husband and be offended at the idea Brian Grant might have killed Matt and Amy. If Jack was honest, he thought it was improbable as well. Men like Brian Grant were more likely to kill a family member in a moment of rage than to methodically kill an enemy.

Still, Brian Grant was the only suspect with motive and opportunity, which made him the best suspect Jack had.

Eddie grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and walked into the living room. Jack sat on the couch in the dark, feet up on the coffee table, resting a beer on his thigh.

“Hey. Who’s winning?” Eddie plopped down onto the other end of the couch, kicked off his boots, and put his feet up.

“Saints.”

Eddie drank half of his beer in three gulps and sighed. “Damn, that tastes good.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Working. Thank God Matt was so organized or I’d be fucked tomorrow.”

“You aren’t making the run to Houston?”

“Michelle hasn’t mentioned it. You didn’t want to raid it tomorrow night, did you?”

Jack shook his head. “You need to work there a little longer or they’ll figure you’re working for us.”

“Yeah. I figured. How’s the investigation going?”

“Fine. Where were you on Sunday?”

“Went to Dallas to see a friend.”

“Don’t lie to me, Eddie.”

“I’m not lying.”

Jack turned to him. “You stayed at Ellie’s Saturday night?”

“Miner told you?”

“He thinks you’re lying. Are you?”

“Yes. I was with Michelle. She had a shipment come in.”

“How long were you there?”

“I left about 2 a.m. I don’t know when she left.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Dallas, like I said.”

“For Michelle?”

“No. Personal business. I gave Miner the number. He can call and check up on me. Better yet, you should call.”

“I’m going to tomorrow.”

“Good, maybe then you’ll trust me.”

“Why should I trust you when you’re still lying to me? And you’re getting Ellie to lie for you?”

Eddie sighed. “I didn’t want to do it, but I need everything I can get to make sure Michelle trusts me.”

“Having Ellie lie for you makes Michelle trust you?”

“Jesus, yes. You don’t know how much Michelle hates Ellie.”

“Why?”

“Hell if I know.”

They watched the game in silence until Brees threw a fifty-yard touchdown pass. “Damn,” Eddie said. “That dude is awesome.”

“I had him on my fantasy team one year. Won five hundred bucks.”

“My brother, gambling?”

“Shut up and get me another beer, will you?”

Eddie got two more Shiners and returned to the couch. “So, you’re bluffing Michelle with Kyle Grant.”

Jack’s head jerked around. “How do you know that?”

“She called me.”

“How do you know I’m bluffing?”

“’Cause I dropped Kyle Grant in Dallas Sunday morning.”

“What? You know I’ve been looking for him.”

“I know, and you’ll get him. But you can’t get him from me, now can you?”

“What did Michelle say?”

“Lots of profanity. I told her to play it cool. If you talk to her tomorrow, tell me how she does.”

Jack’s expression was curious. “You like her.”

“I respect her. Grudgingly. She’s got a chip on her shoulder the size of Gibraltar.”

“What about?”

“Daddy issues, no doubt. Matt was the golden child.”

“Think she hated Matt enough to kill him?”

Eddie sat up. “Seriously?”

Jack nodded.

“No way.”

Jack’s mouth quirked up. “That was a fast denial.”

“Michelle’d much rather ruin your life and watch you suffer than kill you.”

“And you like this woman?”

“I said it was against my better judgment.”

“You aren’t going soft on me, are you?”

“No. But I don’t think Michelle killed Matt.”

“Huh.” Jack turned back to the game. “I think Norman Davie did it.”

Eddie laughed. “What?”

Jack shrugged and drank his beer. “If this case were a novel, he’d be the killer for sure. It’s always the most innocuous person. They come on stage for a few pages, do enough to be noticed but not so much to raise suspicion, then they’re forgotten.”

“Have you run him?”

“Yeah. He’s clean. Dammit.”

They drank in silence. “Where’s the fam?” Eddie asked.

“Upstairs.”

“Did you go through with it Saturday night?”

Jack nodded.

“And you’re avoiding her now.”

Jack picked at the label on his beer and didn’t answer.

“Or, you did your husbandly duty and are now sitting down here, feeling guilty you’re cheating on your girlfriend. Guess you’re not as white bread as I’ve always thought.”

“Fuck you.”

Eddie stood and stretched. “Well, I’m beat. This working for a living shit takes it outta you.”

Jack stared up at his brother. “I want to know why Ellie would lie for you.”

“I promised to get her what she wants most in the world.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”