It was twenty minutes past ten the following morning and Roman still hadn’t arrived to pick up Jacob. Quinn wasn’t alarmed. From what Evie used to say about his time management skills, he’d been tardy many times in the past. No reason for her to expect a change in his MO now.
A text message popped up on Quinn’s phone. It was her mother, telling her to bring Jacob over. Breakfast was ready. Since waking an hour earlier, he was back to not speaking again. Quinn wasn’t alarmed about that either. He was smiling, scribbling a rainbow of colors across a piece of paper. He seemed content. And content was enough for her.
The screen door snapped closed when Quinn and Jacob entered her parents’ home a few minutes later.
“Quinn, is that you?” her mother called from the kitchen. “Come see who’s here.”
A thick, lumpy knot developed in her throat.
She swallowed.
The knot remained.
Stubborn.
Unrelenting.
She entered the kitchen resigned to find Bo engaged in a conversation with her parents. Of all the men she’d ever dated, he’d always been their favorite. When she rounded the corner, she was met with a surprise. It wasn’t Bo. It was someone far worse. Her sister, Astrid.
“Hey, sis,” Astrid said. “How are ya?”
Quinn feigned a smile, and said, “Fine.”
What she really wanted to say was: Stop talking to me. Stop looking at me. Right. Now.
Astrid angled a fork at Jacob. “Little guy is getting big, isn’t he?”
Jacob buried his head behind Quinn’s leg. Quinn reached down, brushed a finger across the top of his hand.
“I wasn’t aware you’d ever seen him before,” Quinn said.
“Once, a couple years back when I was in town for the weekend. I ran into Evie at the farmer’s market.”
Astrid looked like she hadn’t aged since the last time Quinn saw her, which had been at least a couple years. She sat on the kitchen counter, legs spread, her long, stringy, bleach-blond locks falling in loose curls in front of her nearly sheer, body-hugging T-shirt. Standing in between the opening of her legs was a man who looked to be pushing forty, significantly older than her younger sister.
“When did you get here?” Quinn asked, though she didn’t care.
“Last night.”
“You missed Evie’s funeral.”
Astrid shrugged. “I know. She was your friend, Quinn. Not mine.”
“You grew up with her too. You don’t have to be close to someone to pay your respects to their family.”
Astrid jerked her head back, snorted a laugh. “To Ruby? The woman’s bat-shit crazy.”
Quinn looked down at Jacob. His face was blank.
“Watch your mouth, Astrid.”
Astrid giggled. “Oh, yeah. Woops.”
“Why are you here?” Quinn asked.
“What do you mean ’why am I here’?”
Astrid dropping in unannounced always raised her suspicions. She had a habit of only coming around when it suited her, or when she wanted something. Judging by the orange Ferrari coupe parked in the driveway, her current benefactor was giving her all the “something” she needed. It didn’t add up.
“I haven’t seen you at Mom and Dad’s house for a long time.”
Astrid removed the hand she’d been combing her boyfriend’s back with, and slapped the front of her jeans, diverting the conversation. “Come say hi, Jacob. I won’t bite.”
“He’s fine where he is right now,” Quinn replied.
Astrid ignored her and stretched a stiff hand toward Jacob. He ducked behind Quinn again.
“Don’t hog him all to yourself, Quinn. Let me take him for the day. Go out. Get some fresh air. You look like you need it.”
“You have no idea what I need.”
“Girls.” Quinn’s mother spread her arms out between her two daughters. “Please.”
Quinn could see the rivalry and wounded feelings she carried for her sister left their mother pained, which in turn, gave her pain. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
Astrid shot Quinn a dirty look that said: kiss ass.
Deciding now was a good time to make a formal introduction, Astrid’s boyfriend pushed a clammy hand toward Quinn. She looked at it, didn’t take it.
“Name’s Eugene. Nice to meet you.”
“Eugene’s going to be the next state senator,” Astrid bragged.
Quinn looked Eugene in the eye, now realizing where she’d seen him before. On television, talking about his plan to win the next election. With Astrid by his side, he had to be kidding. “You two been together long?”
“Almost a month now,” Eugene said.
He beamed with pride like it was a major accomplishment.
For Astrid, it was.
Quinn’s first instinct was to say: Good luck with that.
He’d need it.
Although Astrid was known to hang around as long as the money kept flowing. And this guy had two things going for him—money and power.
“Let’s eat,” Quinn’s mother suggested. “The food’s getting cold.”
The five of them sat down. Quinn, Jacob, Astrid, Eugene, and their mother.
“Where’s Dad?” Quinn asked. “Out for a run?”
“No, I’m right here.”
Quinn glanced up, detecting a hint of uneasiness in her father’s voice when he entered the room. His face was rigid, almost haggard looking. “Is something wrong?”
Her father looked at her mother. “Jane, why don’t you take Jacob back to Quinn’s apartment for few minutes? I think there might be some blocks inside a box in the hall closet he can play with.”
“But we just sat down, Mitchell.”
Her parents stared at each other until her mother seemed to understand what her father wouldn’t verbalize. Her mom picked up Jacob’s plate of food and curled her fingers toward herself. “Come on, Jacob. Let’s see what toys we can find, shall we?”
Jacob shook his head, refusing to move from his seat next to Quinn.
“Jacob,” Quinn prompted. “I think I saw some chocolate bars in the freezer over there. If you go with my mom, I bet she’ll give you one after you finish your breakfast. I’ll come over in a few minutes, and we can play, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”
He slid off the chair, bowed his head, followed Jane out of the room. Once he was out of earshot, her father continued. “I just got off the phone with Bo.”
Quinn failed to see why a conversation with Bo warranted Jacob’s removal from the house. “Whatever he said, I don’t want to know.” She backed her chair away from the table. Stood. There would be no forced conversation about Bo, especially in front of her sister.
“You’ll want to hear what I have to say, Quinn,” her father continued. “And even if you don’t think you want to—you need to, okay?”
“Why?”
Astrid remained still and kept her mouth shut, which wasn’t like her.
“The phone call had nothing to do with you,” her father said. “It concerns Roman.”
“What about Roman?” Quinn asked.
“I heard Evie forgot to change the beneficiary of her life insurance policy after the divorce,” Astrid said. “Roman was to inherit half a million dollars. You know, people are saying he murdered Evie.”
Quinn spun around. “What people?”
“You’re not the only one with friends here. My friend Alicia said the cops have evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“Some shoe print they found at the crime scene matches with a shoe they found in Roman’s closet.”
Quinn thought about her conversation with Roman the day before, about how he’d said the cops hadn’t found anything because there was nothing to find. Why did he lie? Or did he say it because he was innocent and knew the shoe wouldn’t amount to anything?
“So what?” Quinn replied. “It means nothing. They share a son together. They share custody. He’s over there all the time.”
“Think about it, Quinn,” Astrid said. “It makes sense. First the shoe, now the life insurance policy.”
Quinn didn’t believe it. She couldn’t.
“You don’t know him,” she said. “Roman loved Evie. Stop spreading lies about something you know nothing about.”
“What is your friggin’ deal, Quinn?”
“What’s my deal? You’re the one—”
“Roman’s dead,” her father interrupted.
His words, though short and simple, took several seconds for Quinn to process. “What do you mean, Dad? How?”
“Bo went with another officer to Roman’s place this morning to talk to him about something, and—”
“Wait—why is Bo involved?”
“Don’t you know anything?” Astrid said. “Bo’s some kind of detective now.”
She didn’t know. After she broke things off with him, Quinn asked her parents not to mention Bo to her. Ever. Not that they hadn’t tried. Her mother had made it known on several occasions that she wished Quinn would confide in her about the real reason she’d ended things with him. Her mother didn’t need to know. It would grieve her even more if she did.
“As I was saying,” her father continued, “Bo arrived at Roman’s house this morning, saw his pickup parked out front, but he wasn’t answering the door or his phone. Door was unlocked, so Bo announced himself and went inside. Found Evie’s dog scratching at the bedroom door. When he looked inside, he saw Roman lying on the bed. His body was stiff, cold to the touch. Bo checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one.”
“How did he die?”
“Bo found a couple pill bottles on the nightstand. Nembutal and fluoxetine hydrochloride.”
Quinn’s heart throbbed inside her chest like it was trying to fight its way out. “Fluoxe ... what?”
“One was for depression, the other to help him sleep.”
“I don’t understand. Are you saying he overdosed on pills?”
“Not just pills. Bo said Roman had a blood alcohol concentration level around a .30.”
“So he killed himself?”
“No, honey,” her father replied. “The ME will run tests, of course, but Bo thinks Roman’s death was an accident, not intentional. And I’m inclined to believe him.”