“WHAT?” Claire’s gasp fell into the sudden silence.
“You heard me. She was killed.” Nick’s gaze met hers defiantly and he sniffled again. “Someone called her that night. She told me she had to go meet someone.”
“Just because she went to meet someone doesn’t mean she was killed,” Claire said softly.
“She was worried about something.” Nick’s expression dared her to disagree. “She was worried before that night.”
Claire’s heart ached for the boy. Nick had said goodbye to his mother, knowing she was upset, and had never seen her again. Of course he wanted to believe it wasn’t an accident that had killed Janice. Claire took his hand. “I’m sorry, Nick.”
He yanked his hand from her grasp. “I’m not some stupid kid who doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he retorted.
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Nick.” Claire wanted to hug him. He’d been completely alone after Janice died. He must have been so frightened, wondering what would happen to him. “I’m being clumsy. It’s just that no one mentioned this as a possibility.”
“You think I’m making this up, don’t you?” Nick’s mouth hardened with determination.
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m surprised.”
“You think it doesn’t matter now that she’s dead.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave her a stubborn stare, so much like Janice that her heart ached.
“Kendall.” Tucker’s voice was like a whip in the shocked silence. “Apologize to your aunt.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father,” Nick shot back.
“Right now you’re damn lucky that I’m not,” Tucker said grimly. He stared at Nick, his face hard. “But I am your coach and you will respect me. As well as your aunt.” He leaned across the table, his face close to Nick’s. “Do you understand?”
Shocked at Tucker’s transformation from easygoing dinner companion to dangerous male, Claire watched the silent battle of wills.
Nick looked away first. “Yeah,” he muttered.
“Yeah what?” Tucker said.
“Yeah, I understand.”
“That’s good.” Tucker settled against the back of the booth again, but he didn’t take his eyes off Nick. When Nick didn’t say anything, Tucker leaned toward him again. “Don’t you have something to say to your aunt?”
Nick’s eyes darted in her direction. “Sorry.”
Tucker didn’t look away. He kept his gaze locked on Nick’s until the boy muttered, “Sorry, Aunt Claire.”
The tension surrounding Tucker eased as he nodded at Nick. “Thank you. Now do you think you can discuss this with your aunt like an adult?”
“Yeah.” Nick’s voice was surly, but his eyes flickered when Tucker used the word adult.
“The police told me her car slid off the road into the lake,” Claire said carefully. “They didn’t say anything about it not being an accident.”
Nick snorted in derision. “Of course not. Why would they listen to a kid?”
“You’ve talked to the police?” Claire asked.
Nick gave her a guarded look. “Yeah. I told the police officer who came to…who told me what happened.”
“That was smart thinking. What did he say?”
“He said he’d look into it. But he didn’t,” Nick burst out. “He didn’t do anything.”
“Are you sure? Maybe he looked into it and found out that it really was an accident,” Claire said gently.
“He didn’t.” Anger sparked in Nick’s eyes. “I asked him later if he found anything and he hadn’t even tried.”
“How do you know?” Claire asked.
“He gave me all that sympathy crap and told me he knew it was hard, blah blah blah, but sometimes accidents happen.” Nick’s voice rose. “I could tell he never checked a thing.”
“I’ll talk to the police,” Claire promised. “I’ll make sure it was an accident.”
“Yeah? You will?”
Claire could see both hope and doubt in Nick’s eyes. “Of course. Janice was my sister. I need to know. And you have a right to know what happened to your mother.”
“He’ll blow you off, too,” Nick muttered.
“I don’t see Seth Broderick blowing off your aunt,” Tucker said, his voice dry.
“Why not?” Nick asked, his eyes guarded as they moved from Tucker to Claire.
“She’s a tough city woman, used to getting what she wants. I suspect she doesn’t take kindly to ‘no,’” Tucker said. “She’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Somehow it didn’t sound like a compliment when Tucker called her a tough city woman. Not bothering to suppress the glimmer of resentment that she’d been judged already and found wanting, Claire ignored him and focused on Nick.
“Mr. Hall is right,” she said firmly. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
Nick looked doubtful, but he nodded. “Okay.”
An uneasy silence settled over the table. Claire adjusted her used silverware on her plate and wished Tucker wasn’t sitting so close. She felt the tension flowing from him, felt his efforts to calm down.
She didn’t want to be this aware of him. Finally, after several edgy moments, she put her hands on the table and plastered a smile on her face.
“Well. We don’t want to keep you, Mr. Hall. I’m sure you have things to do tonight. And Nick has homework,” she said with a glance at her nephew.
Tucker didn’t move. He just shifted in his seat and glanced down at her, his blue eyes sharp with understanding. “Yeah, I should get going. I have a few chores to do.” He smiled. “The cave I live in requires a lot of maintenance, you know.”
Claire flushed, remembering her remark about Neanderthals earlier in the day. “Then we won’t keep you. I’m glad you joined us for dinner.” And if he bought that, she was a better liar than she’d thought.
Real amusement lit his eyes. “I enjoyed myself, too. We’ll have to do it again.”
“Absolutely,” she lied. She followed him out of the booth, careful to stand far enough away from him to avoid the force field that crackled around him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow in class, Nick,” Tucker said. “And I’m looking forward to having you on the team.”
“Thanks, Coach.” The bruised look in Nick’s eyes faded just a little.
Tucker turned to her. She felt tiny next to the tall, broad-shouldered coach, and she took another step away from him. A flicker of his eyes told her that he’d noticed. “Thank you for letting Nick join the team,” he said quietly. “You won’t be sorry.”
As she watched him walk out the door of the diner, she murmured to herself, “That remains to be seen.”
Nick stared after him as she paid their bill. “Jeez, where does he get off yelling at me about personal stuff? I thought he was a lot cooler than that,” he muttered.
“I still think he’s cool,” she answered lightly. Unfortunately, she thought as she watched Tucker stroll down the street, cool was the last word she’d choose to describe her reaction to Nick’s new football coach.
Nick gave her a disgusted look, then twisted his hand around the bag of football equipment and walked out of the restaurant without waiting for her.
She swallowed hard. His enthusiasm for football and his excitement about his new equipment had apparently vanished. Feeling helpless, she followed him to the car.
He stood impatiently at the car, waiting for her. Desperate for a way to spend more time with her nephew, she scanned the stores along Main Street. An ice cream shop caught her eye, and she turned to Nick.
“Did you forget those hot fudge sundaes?” she asked brightly. She nodded at the store. “How about dessert?”
He looked at the store and his expression lightened for a moment. Then he shrugged. “I don’t care,” he said, his voice carefully disinterested.
“I’d like some ice cream. Wouldn’t you?” she pressed.
He shrugged again. “I guess.”
“Let’s put your stuff in the car,” she said as she unlocked it. Once the gear was safely stowed, she headed across the street. This time Nick walked next to her.
She’d take tiny steps of progress wherever she found them.
As they reached the shop, she saw that it was jammed with people. Her hand on the door was suddenly sweaty, and she wiped it on her shorts. Then, lifting her head, she strode into the shop.
Nick stopped abruptly, staring at the petite blond girl behind the counter, scooping out the ice cream. She must have felt his gaze, because she looked up and saw him.
“Hi, Nick,” she called with a smile.
Dark red color flooded Nick’s face. “Hi,” he tried to say. But it came out as nothing more than a strangled croak. He cleared his throat. “Uh, hello,” he finally managed.
The crowd milling around in front of the freezer cases glanced over at them. Several people’s gazes sharpened when they saw her. She nodded to them, her stomach twisting into a knot, but didn’t say anything. Grabbing a ticket, she pressed it and some money into Nick’s hand.
“Order me a small hot fudge sundae,” she said, edging toward the door. “Get whatever you want. I'll wait by the door.”
Nick looked at her, a hint of panic in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want to order? Maybe you should check out the flavors.”
Understanding swept over her. Glancing at the young woman behind the counter, she steered Nick to a corner. “Is the girl behind the counter a friend of yours?”
“She’s in a couple of my classes.” He turned bright red again.
This was dangerous, sensitive territory. Remembering her own teenage crushes, she prayed she’d handle it right.
“That’s nice, but don’t try to start a conversation with her. She’s too busy to talk,” she said briskly, knowing that a conversation with the girl was Nick’s deepest fear. “Just ask her how she’s doing, then give her your order.”
“Okay.” The panic eased in his eyes. He started toward the counter, then stopped and looked back at her. “You sure you don’t want to order?”
“Positive. I’ll let you fight the crowd.”
He glanced toward the counter, fear and anticipation swirling in his eyes. She gave him a reassuring smile, then watched as he squared his shoulders and walked toward the counter as if heading for a firing squad.
As she threaded her way through the crowded shop, most of the people she passed smiled and said hello. She didn’t see anything more than warm welcome in anyone’s eyes. By the time she reached the door, she’d relaxed enough to smile back and murmur her own hellos.
“Here’s your ice cream.”
Slashes of red streaked his cheekbones when Nick handed her a sundae, but his eyes were animated. The knot of worry that had lodged in Claire’s stomach as he’d headed for the counter eased just a little.
She watched, bemused, as he attacked his own sundae, remembering the enormous hamburger and the huge pile of fries he’d just eaten. Apparently even hormones and adolescent self-consciousness couldn’t interfere with a teenage boy’s appetite.
“I guess you must have been starving, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said, concentrating on his treat.
“Are you ready to head home?” she asked.
“I guess.” Nick glanced over his shoulder at the girl behind the counter.
“What’s your friend’s name?” Claire asked, holding her breath.
Instead of the explosion she’d feared, Nick shuffled his feet. “Caitlyn,” he muttered. “Caitlyn Burns.”
“She seems very nice,” Claire said, glancing at Nick out of the corner of her eye. “I had a friend in high school named Molly Burns. I’d say they might be related, but Molly moved away before we graduated.”
Nick shoved a huge spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, a signal Claire took to mean the conversation was over. She turned to go, but found the doorway blocked by a handsome older man with wavy white hair and a florid face.
“If it isn’t Claire Kendall,” he boomed. “Welcome back to Monroe.”
Claire froze. “Hello, Chief Denton,” she said, keeping her voice expressionless.
“I’m not the chief of police anymore. We needed someone with more energy for that,” he said with a wink. “I’m the mayor now.”
“Congratulations,” Claire said, her voice flat.
“It’s always nice when our young people return to Monroe,” he said, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. “Brings new life to the town.”
“It does bring back memories,” she said, her voice wooden.
“Sorry about your sister,” he said. “A fine woman.”
“Thank you, Mayor.”
She nudged Nick toward the door, but the mayor had taken his hand, clasping it between both of his.
“Dreadful accident,” he said to Nick, “dreadful. My deepest sympathies.”
Claire saw the mutinous look gather on Nick’s face and stepped between the two. Until she’d had a chance to investigate, the last thing she wanted was to hear Nick tell Denton that his mother had been murdered.
“We should go, Nick,” she murmured, putting her hand on Nick’s arm.
For once he didn’t shake her off. “Yeah.”
He edged around the mayor and followed her out the door.
“Asshole,” he muttered, glancing back over his shoulder at the mayor.
“Nick!” she exclaimed. “Don’t use that word.”
“Why not? That’s what my mom called him.” Nick stuck his chin out. “She didn’t like him. She talked about him sometimes, said he was a nothing but a blowhard politician.”
“He wasn’t the mayor when I lived in Monroe,” she said. “He was the chief of police then.”
“I’ll bet he was an asshole police chief, too.”
She should tell him again not to use that word. Instead, sighing, she said, “Yes, he was.”
Nick shot her a startled look. Clearly, he’d expected her to correct him.
“Did your mom work for him?” Claire asked.
“No. But she worked in city hall. She saw him around all the time.” Nick’s mouth tightened. “I think he was trying to hit on her.”
“What did your mom think of that?”
“She said he was married and that made him a slime-ball. And that even if he wasn’t married, she wouldn’t go out with him if he was the last man on earth.”
“Your mom was a smart woman,” Claire said. “She knew how to handle men like that.”
Nick gave her a careful, measuring glance. “I thought maybe Denton was the one who called her that night.”
Claire froze, a spoonful of ice cream halfway to her mouth. “Really? Why did you think that?”
“Because she wasn’t too happy about going out.”
Claire glanced down and saw fat white splashes of ice cream hitting the asphalt. Shoving the spoon back into the melting mess, she tossed it in the nearest trash can. “Let’s not talk about this here,” she said quietly.
Nick looked around again and nodded. Claire opened the car and slid in. Not even the heat rolling out the door could warm the chill that settled in her heart. Nick thought his mother had been killed.
And he thought Fred Denton was involved.
She stared at city hall as they drove away. She didn’t know what Janice had done there. But she’d find out.
As far-fetched as Nick’s theory sounded, she owed it to him to find out exactly what had happened to his mother.
And she owed it to Janice to make sure she hadn’t been killed. Janice had been denied justice for all the years of abuse she’d suffered.
If her death had been anything but a tragic accident, Claire vowed, she’d find justice for that now.