Not One of Us(39)

Guilt panged my gut. I should have been paying closer attention. From now on, I’d keep the meds in my room and be the one to distribute them. No wonder Zach was so agitated and out of sorts this morning. It was a wonder he’d even slept last night. I’d have to call Zach’s doctor, confess the snafu, and get his guidance on how to get his medicine properly regulated today.

No day program for Zach. That wouldn’t be fair to the staff or the other clients. I’d let him stay home and play with LEGOs to his heart’s content until his meds normalized.

Once I’d made the doctor call and straightened out the med situation, I had Mimi and Zach sitting in the den, relatively content with a movie and popcorn. It was their favorite pastime, and I figured it might be calming for them—and give me a breather. The sounds of a western action adventure floated to the kitchen, where I cleaned up the last of the breakfast dishes.

That done, I sank into one of the kitchen chairs and buried my face in my hands. I was overwhelmed, feeling unequal to the task of caring for the two people I loved most in the world. Could this day get any worse?

The doorbell rang sharply, and I jerked my head up in surprise. Now what? I rushed to the door to find Deputy Blackwell standing on my doorstep, her expression solemn.

Yep. Apparently, this day could get worse.

“Got a few minutes?” she asked. Her gaze slid to Mimi and Zach on the couch. “We can sit on the porch if you’d like.”

“Fine.” I shut the front door behind me, and we sat across from one another on the porch rocking chairs. Had she found the culprit who’d broken into our home? I waited expectantly.

“I’m reviewing the old Cormier case and have a few questions for you.”

I blinked. Hadn’t expected the conversation to take that route.

“According to the notes, you spent a great deal of time at the Cormier house. I know you were questioned as a teenager, but with the space of time and distance, I’m wondering if anything has changed from what you originally told investigators. Could you have overheard any snippet of conversation that might shed some light on their disappearances? Perhaps the mother was having an affair with a jealous lover?”

“No,” I protested, quick anger flushing my face. “I don’t believe it.”

“Why not?”

“She was crazy about her husband. Never heard her say a bad word against him.”

“He was gone a good bit, traveling back and forth to Mobile and meeting with clients from all over the southeast.”

I crossed my legs. “Are you accusing me of lying back then? Because I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I was crazy about Deacon and really liked his parents. If I had any insights or suspicions, now or then, I’d immediately tell the cops.”

She held up a hand, as though to ward off my defense. “I believe you. I’m on your side.”

The stress rushed out of my body, and I relaxed in my seat.

“It’s a small town. I’m sure over the years you’ve heard the rumors that Mrs. Cormier was having an affair,” Tegan said.

“Yeah. With our librarian, Adam Logan. Apparently he took an interest in her paintings and displayed them at the library.”

Blackwell appeared surprised that I provided a name.

I shrugged. “Like you said, it’s a small town.” I considered her words. Maybe Clotille had been lonely. I’d been so involved with Deacon and so young that maybe I hadn’t picked up on the signs. “I suppose she could have been,” I reluctantly conceded. “But I never saw Adam at their house or even heard his name mentioned by Deacon or his mother. I’m sure he was questioned, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. He denied it, and there was no scrap of proof that they were romantically involved.” She tried another tactic. “Did you ever overhear arguments between Louis and Clotille?”

I started to shake my head no, then abruptly stopped.

“What is it?” Blackwell asked quickly. “Did you remember something?”

“Only a little back-and-forth about how much Clotille had spent on her art studio. Nothing major.”

“How did Deacon get along with his parents? He ever confide anything to you about being mistreated?”

“He got along as well with his parents as any teenager. I mean, there were a couple of times he got in trouble at school and they’d ground him over the weekend or take away his cell phone for a few days. Normal stuff like that.”

“Did they ever beat or neglect him?”

“No.” I shook my head emphatically. “If anything like that had been going on, Deacon would have told me. I never saw any marks on him either.”

“What about the alleged rumor that Louis Cormier was involved in money laundering for the mob? Or the drug trafficking rumors?”

“Who told you that?” I asked, anger bristling the hairs on the nape of my neck.

“Like I said before, it’s a small town. The Cormier case was huge news. Of course, I’ve heard these kinds of rumors for years. I take it you don’t believe those rumors.”

“Not for a single minute,” I snapped. “Why is everyone so quick to judge them? Just because he was a successful attorney? Because he hadn’t been born and raised in Enigma? Because that’s crap. Something bad happened to them.”

“I’m not disputing that something horrible occurred. If Louis Cormier was involved in criminal activity, it’s possible that his associates wanted him to disappear. I can’t divulge everything I’ve learned. Suffice to say, we have reason to believe they were murdered. Always have, contrary to the rumor mill around town when they disappeared.”