When Maddox woke to the scent of Jada’s perfume on his sheets, he pulled them off and washed them immediately, while he showered for work. He’d begun to hope he could get her back, and that was dangerous for him. If she didn’t want him, she didn’t want him.
When he checked his phone, he saw that she’d texted him. I’m sorry. She said nothing more, and that had come in while he was sleeping, so he didn’t respond. He didn’t want to screw up his life any more than she wanted to screw up hers, and since she seemed to be the only person who possessed the power to hurt him, maybe he needed to wise up and stay away. It wasn’t as though she’d ever let herself love him. Too much had happened.
But they were good together. He had to admit that.
Once he arrived at work, he spent half the morning staring off into space, remembering the way she’d kissed him when she first arrived, the small changes in her body, which he found even more attractive, how she’d straddled him the last time they’d made love. He’d enjoyed watching the expressions on her face almost as much as the more direct pleasure she evoked as she—
“Hey, are you going to make it?”
Maddox blinked and turned to see Aiyana poking her head through the doorway. “Where?”
She checked her watch. “We had a staff meeting that was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago.”
He shoved away from his desk. “Oh! Right. Sorry.”
She gave him a curious look. “Is something wrong?”
“Of course not,” he said, but after he reached the conference room on the boys’ side of school and greeted Elijah and Gavin, whom he was beginning to eat lunch with if they were around, as well as the other teachers, he had a hard time paying attention. He was so preoccupied that Aiyana pulled him aside when it was over, after everyone had left.
“What’s going on with you?” she asked. “Is everything okay with your brother?”
He’d meant to text Tobias to see how his second day of freedom had gone, but he’d been so caught up in Jada since he returned to Silver Springs he hadn’t done it yet. “I’ll be checking in with him tonight. I’m sure I would’ve heard if there was a problem, though.” He had received a message from his mother, thanking him for the money. But he was so angry with her for getting indebted to a pusher and causing her own robbery he hadn’t responded.
Instead of being satisfied, Aiyana peered at him a little closer. “So there’s nothing going on I should be concerned about?”
He told her Uriah had fallen from a ladder and he’d taken him to the ER, hoping that would satisfy her curiosity enough to stop her from probing further. “So I’m just tired,” he said at the end.
He felt slightly guilty when that actually worked to distract her. He was reacting to what’d happened after the hospital, not that event at all, so it was sort of misleading.
“Poor guy,” she said. “Did you call his son?”
“No. I don’t even know his son’s name. Should I have asked for it—and his number?”
“Not if Uriah’s going to be okay. It’s better if Carl doesn’t come back.”
“You know his son?”
She frowned. “He caused so many problems that most people around here do.”
“I take it you don’t care for him...” That came as a surprise to Maddox. He’d assumed Aiyana liked everyone.
“He’s...extremely difficult.”
For Aiyana to say that, it really meant something. “In what way?”
“He couldn’t keep a job. Broke into the neighbor’s house and stole his guns.”
“Was he using?”
“Maybe here and there. I didn’t get the impression he was an addict. He came to New Horizons when it first opened, but I couldn’t help him.”
“That makes him unusual indeed,” Maddox joked.
A ghost of a smile curved her lips. “Thanks for saying that, but there are some people who won’t ever change, you know? They don’t feel the need, don’t care about the fact that they are hurting others.”
“He was that way?” Maddox couldn’t equate that sort of son with such a principled father.
“Dr. Uchtdorf, the psychologist I had on staff in those days, diagnosed Carl with antisocial personality disorder.”
“Isn’t that close to calling someone a psychopath?”
“Yes. Very. Although some psychologists argue they are two different things, others use the terms interchangeably. Carl was so hard on his mother that Uriah finally kicked him out. Then they had to live in fear, for months, that he’d come back and set their house on fire while they slept.”
“So now I know.”
“About Carl?”
“I was wondering why Uriah didn’t have any contact with his son.”
“You’re staying in Carl’s house. I assumed you knew. Why didn’t you ask me before?”
He chuckled. “I guess I should have. I didn’t realize you’d have so much information on my landlord’s son.”
“I almost wish I’d never met him,” she said ruefully. “He has that effect on people.”
“What forms someone into a psychopath, in your opinion?” Maddox asked. “Nature or nurture?”
“The latest research suggests their brains are wired differently.”
“Which means we can’t hold them accountable for their actions?” He was desperately hoping his brother wasn’t someone who couldn’t change. Tobias had always possessed empathy, but he was troubled, seemed to twist certain things in his head. The letters Maddox had received from prison revealed that he still had problems with his thinking.
“I didn’t say that. It’s probably a combination of both—nature and nurture. Those who become serial killers or violent offenders have typically endured some abuse or neglect, but we need more research if we’re ever to find a way to treat the untreatable. There’s a psychiatrist by the name of Evelyn Talbot doing some groundbreaking work at a new facility called Hanover House. It’s in a small town in Alaska. Have you heard of it?”
A dim recollection began to take shape in Maddox’s mind. “Seems like I read something about her in the paper not long ago...”
“They captured the man who attacked her when she was only sixteen. That’s probably what you saw. It was big news. They’d been searching for him for over twenty years. It was being tortured for three days and left for dead that made her want to become a psychiatrist in the first place—so that maybe, one day, she could understand why he turned on her.”
“She a friend of yours?”
Aiyana’s bracelets jangled as she waved a hand. “No. She doesn’t know me from Adam. I just make it my business to stay on top of what she and others in the field are doing. I want to know when I run up against someone like Carl, someone who can be dangerous.”
“How’d you know I wasn’t dangerous?” he asked.
She touched his arm, a tender expression on her face. “It wasn’t hard. I could tell you cared too much, not too little.”
“What about Tobias?”
“He’s going to be fine, too, with time.”
He wasn’t sure if she was just trying to comfort him or she sincerely meant what she said, but it was exactly what he’d been hoping to hear.
“So how’s Uriah today?” she asked. “Any better?”
“I didn’t see him up and around this morning, like usual. But the doctors told him to stay down, so I took that as a sign he was listening. I was in a hurry or I would’ve knocked to be sure.” He checked his watch. “It’s lunch now. I’ll go call him.”
Aiyana started toward her office. “Give him my best and be sure to let me know if he needs anything.”
“I’ll definitely come to you instead of Carl,” he said.
She laughed but sobered quickly. “Can you imagine how sad it would be to have a child like that as your only one? They doted on him, but he was so abusive.”
“Has he ever committed any serious crime? Done time?”
“He might be in prison now, for all I know. When Uriah and Shirley asked him to leave, they cut off all contact with him. Uriah told me it was too hard on Shirley to hear from him, that he’d manipulate her into believing he was repentant, willing to change. He’d say he needed a place to live, so they’d let him move back home, and then he’d start a fire or slash someone’s tires or start a fight at the Blue Suede Shoe. The last time they let him come home, Uriah came to me, and we talked about what had to happen for Shirley’s sake. Carl was moody at best, but when he got angry he’d start kicking the furniture and throwing things. It took Uriah coming home to find Carl on top of his mother, choking her, to convince him that he had to cut off his son.”
“I hope he also pressed charges.”
“Yes, but Carl wasn’t locked up for long.”
And now Shirley was gone and Uriah was alone. Did he miss his son? Want to reconcile? Still hope for change? “Thanks for the insight.”
“No problem,” she said.
Maddox got Uriah on the phone while he crossed the campus to his own office. “You feeling okay?” he asked when he heard his landlord’s gruff voice.
“Bit sore and embarrassed that I let such a dumb thing happen. But I’ll be fine.”
“Good to hear.” Although Maddox was tempted to mention Carl, he didn’t. He guessed it was a difficult subject, figured if Uriah wanted to talk about his son, he would’ve brought him up during one of their many chess games. “Do you have something there at the house to eat? I can bring you something...”
“No, I got plenty of food. No need for you to leave work.”
Maddox hesitated. He didn’t want to bring up Jada’s visit if Uriah hadn’t already noticed, but he figured the chances of that were slim. Uriah received a ping when the security cameras were triggered. Even if he were sleeping and didn’t hear that, there’d be an alert when he checked his phone or computer. “You probably saw that I had a visitor last night.”
“I did.”
Maddox scratched his neck. “Is there any way I could convince you not to mention that to anyone?”
“I’m not going to say anything. Long as whoever is coming by doesn’t cause any damage to the property, it’s none of my business, since you live here, too.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. I’m sure Jada will be even happier.”
“I did feel a certain amount of surprise that she was back,” he admitted. “And I hate to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but are you sure you know what you’re doing where she’s concerned?”
“Not entirely.”
There were a few moments of silence. “Love makes a man do crazy things, doesn’t it?”
Maddox stopped dead in his tracks. “I’m not sure it’s love. Until I moved back, we hadn’t spoken in thirteen years. It’s more like...unfinished business. We’re just trying to put the fire out, get over each other.”
“By spending the night together? Good luck with that,” he said, laughing.
“She’s not coming back,” Maddox explained.
“Is that what she told you?”
“It is, yes.”
“Well, I wouldn’t take it to heart until she proves it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The way she deliberated last night, opening and shutting her car door, told me she wouldn’t have come in the first place if she could help it.”
Imagining Jada out in her car, wrestling with herself, made Maddox smile. “Have you ever been unable to get over someone?”
“Sure have.”
“What’d you do about it?”
“I married her,” he said simply.
It had taken most of the day, which had interrupted business to a degree, but the freezer was installed at one end of the cookie display, and the creamery company they’d chosen was supposed to deliver their first shipment—six flavors of premium ice cream in three-gallon tubs—in the morning. Susan had also ordered a new menu sign that included some pictures Jada had taken herself, one for behind the counter and one for the far wall. Those would take a few more days to get, but Jada was encouraged that they were so close to adding ice cream sandwiches to their menu.
She sure hoped the change would help. She had a lot of ideas on how she wanted to plug the new offerings on social media, but she figured implementing them would have to wait a week or so. She had some catching up to do on work for other clients, and she was exhausted after being up all night with Maddox. She felt guilty, too, for letting her family believe she’d spent the night at Tiffany’s. She hadn’t specifically told them that, but they’d assumed it, which was essentially the same thing. It really wasn’t any of their business, but telling herself that didn’t make her feel a whole lot better.
“It looks great,” she said when her mother stood back to examine the new menu signs. Atticus was there, too. He hadn’t been able to help lift the freezer off the truck, but he’d served as the driver. Two neighbors had agreed to meet them at the store to unload. Both were gone now, but Maya was there with them. “Can you believe this idea—your idea—is actually coming to fruition?” Jada said to her daughter.
Maya shot her a sulky look. Jada had broken the news that she wouldn’t be going to New Horizons, so Maya was barely speaking to her or anyone else.
“What’s wrong with you?” Susan asked.
Maya folded her arms and stuck out her bottom lip. “My mom won’t let me go to New Horizons, even though Annie’s going there in the fall and her mom got me a scholarship. I could go to a private school for free! It doesn’t make any sense that she won’t let me do it. It’s not that much farther away. Instead, she’s making me stay at dumb old Topatopa, and I don’t want to be there without Annie.”
Susan lifted her gaze to Jada’s. “When did this happen?”
“Cindy came in to talk to me about it yesterday.”
“Grandma, will you talk to her?” Maya asked. “I’ll be miserable at school without Annie! We have our whole year planned out!”
“Maybe Annie’s mother will change her mind,” Jada said lamely.
“I know she won’t,” Maya grumbled.
“I doubt that, too,” Susan said. “She’s like a...a tornado. She doesn’t back off of anything.”
“Mom!” Jada cried.
Susan looked a bit sheepish at her negative portrayal. “I’m just saying she’s a woman who knows her own mind, that’s all. She probably believes world hunger or world peace hinges on letting Annie go to New Horizons, and God forbid we get in the way of that.”
“I say you let her go,” Atticus said.
Both Jada and Susan pivoted to face him. “To New Horizons?” they both said at the same time.
Maya rushed over to his wheelchair. “Yes! Thank you, Uncle Atticus. Mom? Please?”
Jada cleared her throat as she tried to think. Didn’t they understand that she would have to use her birth certificate to register? Principals didn’t typically have anything to do with that process. It wasn’t as if they looked through each student’s records. But if Maddox ever had reason to wonder, he could easily check her file, and it would be right there. At that point, all he’d have to do is count back nine months.
Although...there would be no way he could know for sure. He didn’t know if she’d met someone else in the immediate aftermath of the shooting—or if Maya had been born early.
“Maya, will you go down to the drugstore to get me—” she couldn’t come up with anything she needed “—a candy bar?”
Her eyebrows knitted. “You want a candy bar right now?”
“No, I want to talk to your grandmother and uncle without you in the room.”
“Oh.” She straightened, gave Atticus another pleading look, obviously imploring him to continue to be on her side, and got some money from Jada before reluctantly walking out.
“What are you thinking?” Jada said to Atticus as soon as she was gone.
“I’m thinking it might seem more strange that you would refuse such an offer than that you would accept it,” he replied.
“To whom? Anyone who knows us knows about our history with...with Maddox and his brother.”
“Cindy isn’t aware of it,” Atticus said.
“That’s because she and her family moved to town a few years after everything went down. Even then she didn’t know any of us until Annie and Maya became friends.”
“It just seems silly that she would have to miss this opportunity because the brother of the man who shot me is now the principal of the school,” he said.
“That’s not all,” Susan said. “The principal of that school is her father!”
“All the more reason for her to have a chance to get to know him. Don’t you think?”
“You’re saying we should tell her the truth?” Jada asked.
“She’s been searching for her father, Jada. Going to the library and trying to look up newspaper articles about a motorcycle wreck. Going through old yearbooks. She even went down to the barbershop because Annie told her that a lot of old men go there and they might remember something. Fortunately, no one did, but...”
Jada felt slightly nauseous. “How do you know?”
“She told me yesterday. Asked me if I could remember any details about him that you couldn’t.”
“Oh boy,” Susan said.
Atticus continued. “This gives you the opportunity to let her be around him, to see how they interact. At some point, maybe you’ll want to tell her the truth.”
Jada exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure I can do that. Maybe when she’s older, but I don’t know what he might do or how she might take it—”
“He lost a lot that night, too,” Atticus said. “He lost you and doesn’t even know about his daughter. Yet he didn’t pull the trigger.”
“We can’t absolve him of all responsibility,” Susan said. “He was there that night, should never have convinced Jada to sneak out and meet him.”
“There were a lot of kids there that night,” Atticus said. “They weren’t able to stop Tobias, either. And Jada only did what most teenagers would do.”
Still Susan seemed hesitant. “I don’t know. It’s risky.”
“Just having him in town is risky,” Atticus said. “Had he not moved back, we wouldn’t be faced with any of this, but he is back, and now Maya’s friends with Annie, and...and I don’t see any reason she has to suffer because of the past. Kids rarely see the principal of the school, anyway—good kids, that is. I doubt she’ll have much interaction with him.”
Maya came bursting into the store, out of breath. She must’ve run the entire way to be back so soon. “Well? What do you think?” she asked as she handed Jada the candy bar and her change in one big fistful. “Can I go?”
“I haven’t decided,” Jada hedged.
Maya’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t understand why it’s such a big decision.”
Susan released an audible sigh. “Neither do I,” she said. “If Atticus is okay with it, I say you let her go.”
Jada felt her eyebrows shoot up. Susan was bending? Apparently, miracles did happen.
“Mom?” Maya put her hands together in a prayer stance. “Did you hear Grandma? She thinks you should let me. Please? I’ll do so good in school. I promise!”
“You already do good, honey. I’m proud of you.”
“Then let me go.”
Jada glanced at Susan and Atticus before she nodded. She supposed, if Maddox began to suspect, he could easily check the date Maya was born—simply by asking her—regardless of whether she attended his school or not. “Okay. Go ahead and call Annie and see what we need to do to get you enrolled.”
“Yay!” After throwing her arms around Jada, she hugged her uncle and grandmother, too. “Thank you so much!”
Jada’s smile wobbled a bit as memories of making love with Maddox just last night filled her mind. Her family would never have relented on this had they known. It was only because they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him, hadn’t heard her speak of him, hadn’t known she’d been in touch with him, that they were being so agreeable.