Every Last Fear(60)

“It’s fine. I’ll fill you in on everything later,” she said. “We’re at Sullivan’s.”

“I don’t miss much about Adair, but I do miss their rocky road,” Evan said.

Liv didn’t respond. She was in no mood for nostalgia.

“Sure you’re okay?” Evan asked.

She decided to swallow her medicine. “I saw Noah.”

“Yeah?” Evan said flatly.

Liv explained how he’d fixed the problem with the nursing home.

“That was good of him.”

“But that’s not the good part. He’s being appointed governor.”

“What do you mean? How—”

“Toad Face Turner is likely going to be indicted. Some tawdry mess with underage girls. I’m surprised you haven’t heard. It’s all over the news here.”

“Karma’s a bitch,” Evan said. “Do you think Noah will do it? Do you think he—” Evan didn’t finish the sentence, as if saying the word pardon would jinx it.

“I don’t know. He’s invited me to dinner tonight—with his son, and Cindy and Tommy,” she added quickly.

“If anyone can convince him,” Evan said, “it’s you.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. Changing the subject, she said, “So Maggie said I need to ask you about Mexico?”

“That little sneak. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow when you’re back. Hey, can I talk to the little man?”

“Sure.” Liv handed Tommy the phone. “It’s Daddy.”

Tommy clutched the phone and said, “Hello.” He listened, a look of wonder sprouting on his face. “Really? The beach? Another airplane?”

Liv realized that Evan must have booked a spring break trip, one they couldn’t afford. She actually liked the idea of a getaway. It had been so long. And Mags worked so hard in high school, she deserved it.

“Awesome! I love you too.” Tommy held out the phone for Liv to take from him.

“What was that about?”

“You’ll see.”

Liv was going to press him but she noticed a middle-aged woman, a beady-eyed mess with smeared makeup and disheveled hair, staring at her.

“I need to get going,” she said. “But is Mags okay? I had some missed calls from her.”

“Magpie is great. I have her helping me with a project.”

Always a project. She wanted to tell him to just hang out with her. Watch a movie. Get dinner. Anything that wasn’t a “project” relating to Danny’s case.

“Hey, Liv,” Evan said. His tone was more serious now.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

What the hell was going on at home? “Are you okay?”

“Never better,” he said.



* * *



She left the ice cream shop holding Tommy’s hand, which was sticky and gross but she didn’t mind. It was something people without kids would never understand. It wasn’t gross to her.

They walked down Main Street, her thoughts returning to when she was a girl. In those days they spent more time outside—running the fields, fishing at the creek, riding bikes. The rental car was parked at the curb in front of the pharmacy. Tommy was playing a game of avoid-the-sidewalk-cracks, using her arm to swing over offending crevices. He didn’t want to break anyone’s back, after all. Never mind the shoulder surgery she might need.

At the car, Liv dug through her handbag for the keys. She was still holding Tommy’s hand, and had to contort her body so her other hand could rifle through the bag. She finally felt the key fob for the rental and pulled it out.

When she looked up, she was startled by the sight of a woman—the crazy lady from the ice cream store. She was standing too close, her pupils saucers.

“They said you were here,” she said in a raspy voice. The woman blinked several times.

Still clutching Tommy’s hand, Liv put her body between the woman and her son.

“I’m sorry?” she said, trying to sound polite.

“My Ronnie was a good cop, and he didn’t kill himself,” she said.

Oh God, Liv thought. It was the cop’s wife. She clicked the key fob, turned, and picked up Tommy. “I’m sorry, we really need to go,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

Liv opened the door with one hand, ushered Tommy safely inside, and shut the door and locked it. The fear she’d felt for her son’s safety turned to rage. First Danielle Parker at the convenience store, then the cop yesterday, now this. She’d had enough of this goddamned town and its lunatic residents. Liv gave the woman a harsh stare.

Examining the woman more closely, though, Liv’s anger dissipated. Detective Sampson’s wife was frail and sad-looking and a mess.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Liv said. She was ashamed that she wasn’t sure she meant it. Ron Sampson had railroaded her son.

The woman didn’t reply, just dug through her bag.

“They say I’m nuts. They won’t listen to me.” Liv could smell alcohol on the woman’s breath. But this was more than booze. Pills, painkillers, maybe.

“But my Ronnie didn’t kill himself.”