“Who was that on the phone?” Tenley Siskel stood at the entrance to their kitchen, saw her mother standing at the sink, staring out the window, her cell phone on the counter. Tenley knew Mom was looking across their backyard to the lush oaks and maples of Steading Woods. Where Lanna had gone, and never come back.
“Come here, honey.” Her mom turned to her, holding out one arm. She was still in her black funeral suit but had kicked off her black heels, like she always did, left them in the middle of the kitchen floor. “Come talk to me.”
Funny how, like, a week ago, Tenley would have been mad because her mom was thinking about Lanna. Funny how so much had changed.
“It was Detective Brogan, sweetheart,” her mom said. “And…”
And then, standing in their kitchen like it was any old day even though it wasn’t, Mom told her what the detective learned. They were still in the midst of an “interview” with Hewlitt, he’d said, but he wanted them to know that the cop who’d questioned Tenley about Lanna—that creepy Angela Bartoneri who Tenley had never liked—was part of the whole thing. Detective Brogan said that while investigating Lanna’s death, Bartoneri discovered Lanna’s connection with Ward Dahlstrom, as well as his secret taping with college crony Hewlitt. Dahlstrom admitted Angie’d convinced him to let her benefit from their scheme in return for covering it up.
“I always wondered why that Detective Bartoneri couldn’t find Lanna’s boyfriend. I guess, in fact, she did.” Her mom drew Tenley closer. “Now they’ve reopened the investigation, honey. It’s still possible her death really was an accident. But maybe now we’ll get some real answers.”
Tenley looked out the window, past the greening forsythia and the last of the tulips. Last year, they had put tulips from their garden on Lanna’s grave. And earlier this morning on her father’s.
Now it was just the two of them. She felt the weight of her mother’s arm around her waist, a weight that was good and strong and connecting.
“Why did Dad have to die?” Tenley couldn’t believe she was asking that out loud, but Dr. Maddux had told her to always say what was in her heart, and maybe now she knew there was no other way.
“Oh, Tenner.” Her mother turned, put one hand on each of Tenley’s shoulders. Tenley knew she was trying to smile, but her eyes were still red from the funeral, and Tenley knew her own eyes probably looked exactly the same way. “According to Detective Brogan, your father refused to give that—whoever he was—any money. When that person found out Greg was refusing to pay, and threatening to tell the police, he tried to stop him—and stabbed him. And ran.”
“What do we do now?” Tenley asked.
“We wait and see. It’s only been three days. Brileen’s with the lawyer. We’ll see what we can do for her, too.” Her mom reached out, cranked open the kitchen window. A waft of early-summer breeze came through the screen, and Tenley saw her mother’s chest rise with a deep breath. “When you and Detective Brogan saw her meeting Hewlitt, she was telling him Valerie had come out to her parents, and as a result he had no more hold on her. He bolted when the cops arrived at the U. But Ten? If you hadn’t forced me to talk to her, none of this would have been solved. We know what happened to your father, and maybe to Lanna—only because of you.”
Tenley tried to figure that out, tried to understand how each little decision anyone made pushed the world in a direction they could never predict, and how even when good people tried to do the right thing, it wasn’t always perfect, so how did you even know? But it was too big, and too hard, and her mom was right. They’d wait and see. Together.
“I love you, Mom,” Tenley said.