Track 29

“Upside Down”

Present Day

My dad opens the front door when I park the Fiat in front of our garage. His face looks tense. Lately I’ve noticed his cheeks getting a bit thinner, his eyes a little more crinkly around the edges. He’s still wearing his lawyer “uniform” of black wool suit pants and sky-blue business shirt. The shirt’s got a lot more creases in it now from lounging around.

“Were you waiting for me?” I ask warily, getting out of the car. It’s an hour before curfew, so I know I’m not in trouble. Unless he found out I skipped classes to get Mom’s laptop in Bartlett. I’m positive I hadn’t lost time between leaving Hayden at the lake and arriving home. The fifteen-minute drive from the lake took exactly that time. No detours. No lights in the sky. No “wheel alignment” issues.

“I couldn’t get you on your cell,” Dad says, letting me into the foyer and following me through to the kitchen.

Burying my head in the fridge, I say, “Yeah, Half-Mile Lake is turning into a reception dead spot. It’s okay around the parking lot, but if you go past the dock? Nada.”

Dad frowns. “What were you doing up there? At night?”

I take my time filling a tall glass with milk. My thoughts go around in a circle, just like the leftovers spinning around in the microwave. Do I tell him I’m ninety percent sure I’m an alien abductee? What would he say to that? Would he drag me out for a psych assessment right now? Maybe he’d have me admitted to Eden Estate. Which would be okay if only to be closer to Mom. Finally, I come out with, “Homework. It’s very inspiring.”

“Yeah, well, I’d prefer if it you didn’t go up there by yourself next time, okay? Especially at night.”

I open my mouth to say I wasn’t alone. But since Hayden is his newest employee and in need of all the money he can get, I close my mouth firmly.

Besides, it’s not like anything happened between Hayden and me tonight.

But you’d like something to happen, wouldn’t you, Cassidy?

The thought pops into my head along with an image of his soft lips and those brown eyes that are as deep as the Pacific. And the memory of his warm finger trailing down my cheek—

The microwave dings, zapping the image of Hayden from my mind.

“Hungry?” Dad says. “Aunt Carole made enough beef rendang and rice for a whole football team.”

My stomach grumbles, saying yes on my mouth’s behalf. “Thanks.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do for lunches and dinners when Carole retires.” Using Mom’s strawberry-print oven mitts, he spoons the rice and Indonesian-style curry into big serving bowls.

“She’ll always be your aunty. Plus, she’ll never retire.”

“That’s what we said about Charlie.” Flashing a weary grin, he hands me a fork. We lean on either side of the marble island and dig into the food, not bothering to serve out individual plates.

I glance over at the formal dining room and see echoes of the old days, when Mom and Dad used to cook up a storm and we’d all eat together at the table. As an intact family. I blow on a forkful of meat dripping with a malty, rich sauce. There’s nothing like Aunt Carole’s comfort food. It can take my mind off almost anything.

Almost.

Dad grabs a light beer from the fridge. With the concentration of a surgeon, he uncaps it and pulls up a barstool. “I called Dr. Davis late this afternoon.”

I drop my fork on the floor and don’t bother picking it up. “Is Mom okay? What did the doctor say? Does she want to see us?”

“Mom’s as good as can be expected,” he drawls out in contrast to my rapid-fire questions. He comes around the bench to pick up my fork and gives me a clean one from a drawer. “But she has regressed in a big way. According to the doctor.”

An odd feeling blooms in my chest. That feeling I get when I’ve done something wrong, and I don’t know how to make things right again. Is it possible my visit set her off? “Any…any idea why?”

Dad hesitates for a few seconds, confirming my fears. “Don’t take this the wrong way—”

But I do. Immediately. “It’s my fault. She wasn’t ready to see me, was she?”

“No. Don’t blame yourself—”

Again, I cut him off. “How could I not, Dad? Just say it. I went there against her wishes.”

“Your heart was in the right place,” he assures me. “For the record, do you know how many times I’ve wanted to visit her, only to talk myself out of it? Hundreds. I’m happy you worked up the courage to go out there.”

I chew my lip. “Dr. Davis gives me that ‘mad scientist’ vibe.”

“You think so?” Dad chews his lip, too. Like daughter, like father. “He and Charlie go way, way back. Charlie often gave him legal advice informally.”

“What, advice about patients? Were there ever any lawsuits against Dr. Davis?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Absently, Dad pushes a few stray rice grains end to end like a conga line. “Charlie took care of business affairs. Dr. Davis has managed Eden Estate for decades. In any case, Charlie didn’t consult with me on the Eden file. But he did highly recommend the treatment center.”

I stare at the food, no longer hungry. “When can we expect Mom to come home? Did you ask?”

“Of course. And the short answer was not anytime soon.” He shoves the bowl away, his appetite clearly lost. “All of those clinics you found for me are booked solid. I’ll do more research, okay?”

“Okay.” I drag the rendang back from the middle of the island, picking out the bay leaves.

Dad rounds the bench. “I’ve been meaning to ask, did you take your mother’s laptop?”

Swallowing, I say, “I tried to get it fixed. The tech in Bartlett said it’s a goner. But Hayden’s going to take a stab at it now.”

“Is something wrong with yours?”

I shake my head. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the oven door and even I can see I look five thousand kinds of guilty.

“They why do you need your mother’s laptop?”

“I needed information.” I can’t look at Dad. Tears start to sting my eyes, and it has nothing to do with the spicy food. Gulping, I add, “Because I’m taking over her Jane Flanagan research. The way I figure it, if I solve the case, it’ll take a load off Mom’s mind. She’ll start to improve, and come home faster.”

I hear the words coming out of my mouth and I cringe. I sound like my eight-year-old self, when I told my parents I would stay up and wait for Santa to arrive because I had a list of things I needed to fact-check with him.

Dad wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. Just like he did when I was eight years old.

“You think it’s a bad idea, don’t you?” I mumble into his shoulder.

“I’m not doubting you. You’ve got the brains, you’ve got the pedigree. Both from your mother.” He pulls back and gives me a sad smile. “I’m worried about your workload, with school and all.”

Quickly, I snatch a paper towel from the dispenser and dry my eyes. “I’ve interviewed someone already, and I’m trying to line up more. Plus…helping Mom in this way also helps me deal.”

Dad’s eyes redden. His lips tighten, and I know he’s trying to hold back on spilling his feelings. “Okay, I get it. You have my support. But please, be careful, this case turned your mother’s life upside down. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

“It won’t, Dad.” But given how convoluted my life has become already, I hope it’s a promise I can keep.