TUESDAY AFTERNOON
Everything felt so wrong, so twisted, so upside-down. I hadn’t expected Aria to become a suspect. I had already decided that if they pinned Owen’s death on her, I would take the blame, but I hoped and prayed it didn’t come to that. But what if she had done it? The thought curdled in my stomach – my little girl, a killer? Like mother, like daughter …
I had spent the afternoon cooped up in four hundred square feet of compact hotel living, searching online for a defense attorney, all requiring retainers I could never afford. How did any average-income family ever afford a criminal defense team? I kicked myself for losing Owen’s Lexus, because that would have been the first thing I sold to finance my defense. The excessive car payments alone had already used up half of our monthly budget, and the mortgage took up the other half. Now without Owen’s income I was screwed. I needed a solid attorney and cash to pay the bills, and Owen’s life insurance was proving worthless. If the cops ruled his death a suicide, there went the money. If the cops ruled Aria or I killed him, there went the money. The only shot I had of survival was a flimsy house of cards that didn’t tie me or Aria to Owen’s death … which seemed unlikely, since I had tried to kill him. They’d find out. They always found out.
It was right before Aria got home from school – she had insisted on going, if only for a respite from crying on the sofa all day – shortly after three o’clock when my cell phone rang. I recognized the number immediately and hesitated to answer.
‘Hi, Detective Rossi.’ My voice was shaky. At this point every call brought more bad news, and I dreaded what today’s would be.
He was curt. ‘I need you and Aria to come down to the station. As soon as possible.’
At this point we had been there so much it was starting to feel like a second home.
‘Can you tell me what you want to speak about?’
‘We’ll discuss it when you get here.’ He hung up, and I wondered if that was code for be prepared to get officially arrested.
The detective knew exactly what he was doing. Making me sweat, leaving me wondering, hoping one of us would confess so he could get his A-plus gold star for a job well done. I wouldn’t make it easier on him. I’d show up prepared for anything.
When Aria walked through the door and dropped her book bag on the table, I patted the unmade bed for her to join me. She pushed aside a heap of rumpled sheets and clothes and sat.
‘Aria, the police want us to come back for more questioning, but we need to be prepared for whatever they ask. Do you understand?’
She nodded wordlessly.
‘I need to know what that “pot”’ – I air-quoted the word, because now we both knew the truth – ‘in your drawer was all about. Why did you have foxglove, and what did you use it for?’ I didn’t want to jump to the conclusion that she had used it to kill her father, but what other conclusion was there? I needed to get ahead of this, and the only way I could do that was if I knew the truth – every awful, heartbreaking piece of it.
‘It was for an experiment.’ Aria picked at her cuticle, avoiding my eyes.
‘You expect me to believe that? Where did you get it?’
‘Ryan gave it to me.’ Oh, things sure had a way of coming full circle. ‘But I swear I didn’t use it on Dad.’
I would have let her lie her way through it if her life wasn’t hanging in the balance.
‘Honey, I need you to be honest with me. That’s the only way I can save you. They think you killed your dad with it. Did you? Because if you did, I’ll say it was me. I’ll take the blame. I just need to know the truth.’ I picked up her hands, cupped them between my own. I needed a connection to her before I lost her.
‘No, Mom, I swear! I thought about it – that’s why I got it in the first place, but I couldn’t go through with it. I was just so mad at what Dad was doing to you. The bruises. The control. I know he loved you in his own weird way – and he loved me too, I guess – but I saw what he was doing to you. He was destroying you, Mom. I wanted to stop him.’
‘You saw? Why didn’t you say anything to me?’
‘I could ask you the same thing. You think I’ve been oblivious all these years? That I don’t see how he hurt you day after day? Besides, what could I say that would change anything? You wouldn’t stand up for yourself, and I’m just a kid. I can’t stand up for you. That’s why I wanted him gone, but I knew you would never do anything about it.’ She pulled her hands free and shifted away from me to the other side of the bed. ‘But I didn’t end up doing anything about it either. I guess that makes us both cowards.’
‘No, Aria, we’re not cowards. We were never weak. It’s just that when you love someone, you hope they’ll change. Every morning you think maybe today they’ll be better. Maybe today they’ll be the person you know they can be. Your father wasn’t always the way you remember. He used to be a good man – a little rough around the edges, but he always wanted to protect others. Even if his version of protection was distorted.’
I glanced down at my fingernails, chewed and chipped. I remember what changed Owen. How could I ever forget? The night he took a man’s life was the night he gave away his own.
‘Then one day he did something long ago that changed him … hardened him. It ate away at him and stole who he was. Controlling me was his way of reining that in, of feeling in charge of his life again. But it doesn’t work that way. The more you pull someone closer, the more you push them away.’
By the time we reached the station I was utterly exhausted. I collapsed into the metal chair from both mental fatigue and physical malnourishment. I needed to eat something, but my stomach tightened at the thought of food. At least if I ended up in jail I wouldn’t be in there long before I starved to death.
My mind hadn’t stopped running for three straight days, and I had barely eaten or slept since Saturday afternoon after the fight. I now understood the effectiveness of sleep deprivation interrogation techniques, because I would have said anything just to put my brain at ease and take a long, restful nap.
Detective Rossi sat down across from us, his glare unreadable. I could never tell if he was pissed off or pleased, or something in between. I imagined his face would crack if he smiled.
He slapped his usual folder on the table, and the overhead light blinked and buzzed. ‘So, we got the toxicology report back along with a new development in the case.’
My heart sank like a rock to the ocean floor.