Not One of Us(69)

“Jori!” she screeched.

In less than two seconds, this version of my aunt morphed into a more familiar one. Confusion clouded her eyes; her shoulders slumped forward an inch, and her lips trembled.

“Um, thank you, dear.” Her voice warbled as though weak and infirm. “What a surprise to find you here.”

If I hadn’t been holding a cup of hot liquid in my hands, I’d have given her a slow clap of satiric admiration.

“Bet you’re not as surprised as me,” I commented. “You led me to believe the only time you ever left this place was to get your hair done. And even then, you’d pay one of the nurse’s aides to drive you there.”

“I’ve been feeling much better lately.” She offered a wobbly, apologetic smile. The gray eyes promised a nothing-to-see-here-move-along flash that downplayed her deception. “The doctors put me on a new round of medication that’s working miracles.”

“Really? I don’t believe in miracles myself.”

Tressie aimed her keys at the Town Car and locked it with a decisive click. “What brings you here? Is something wrong with Oatha? Or Zach?”

She could shove the fake concern. “You didn’t hear the news? Zach was kidnapped yesterday.”

Alarm flared across her features. But not surprise. “Yes, I-I did hear that. The TV news reported he was returned unharmed. Is he okay?”

“If you knew, why didn’t you pick up the phone and call us?”

“I didn’t want to intrude. I mean, I figured it must have been a madhouse. I was going to wait and call tonight.”

“Where were you yesterday afternoon?” I asked flatly, ignoring Tressie’s attempt to downplay her lack of concern.

“Why—right here, of course. In my room like always.”

“The whole afternoon? Can the nurses and other residents verify that?”

Her shoulders straightened. “What are you implying?”

“That you could have been the one who took Zach.”

“That’s . . . that’s absurd!”

“No, it’s not. According to the checkout log, you come and go from here all the time.”

“They showed you the log? I’ll have a word with them. That should be confidential information. At any rate, if you looked at it, then you saw that I didn’t leave the grounds.”

“Maybe. Officially. But you could have snuck out without reporting it.”

“What possible reason would I have for taking him? That’s ridiculous.” She walked around me, moving at a surprising clip for a person supposedly old and feeble.

“It’s not ridiculous at all,” I insisted, catching up to her. “You’ve pulled some pretty shady stuff over the years.”

That brought her up short, and she abruptly halted. “What are you talking about?” she snapped, all pretense of Poor Little Old Aunt Tressie obliterated.

“Don’t play games with me. I talked to Ardy.”

Her lips pursed together, trembling with rage. “Why would you go see him?”

“Because I think there’s something fishy about Jackson’s adoption.”

Fury blazed from her eyes. “How dare you? It’s none of your business.”

“Somebody—maybe you?—made it my business.”

“What do you mean?”

“The threatening notes. Zach’s kidnapping.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She resumed her march to the building. Her own private sanctuary where she lived in ease and manipulated others out of spite.

“Why should I believe you?” I asked, easily keeping pace with her.

“I don’t give a good damn whether or not you believe me. Go home.”

I gave a bitter laugh. “Watch it. Your true colors are showing. If Ardy hadn’t had proof of you threatening him, I’d never have believed you had a role in anything illegal. Now, well, I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

“That bastard owes me,” she seethed. “He ran out on me when the going got tough like the coward he is.”

“He only left after Jackson died. But he stayed with you when Jackson was a troubled teenager in trouble with the law. He told me he tried to instill discipline but—”

“Ardy was too harsh on my boy,” she interrupted. “Jackson was just going through an unruly adolescent phase, that’s all. If he hadn’t been murdered . . .”

Her wrinkled face crumpled like wadded tissue, and I suspected this was the first real emotion I’d ever seen from Aunt Tressie. She drew a deep breath.

“If my boy had lived, he’d have turned out fine. Jackson had a good heart.”

I couldn’t argue might-have-beens, although I highly doubted Jackson would have “outgrown” his criminal “phase.”

The more I puzzled out all that had happened, the more I believed Aunt Tressie was the one behind it all. Where had she taken Zach? Her old house had never been sold because she’d insisted she couldn’t sell the place where she’d raised her only child. It would be a perfect hideout for keeping Zach out of sight.

“I had nothing to do with Zach disappearing or the threats you say you’re getting,” she insisted. “Now go away and never come back.” Her step quickened, and we were almost at the Magnolia Oaks back door, where three employees were gathered on the patio smoking cigarettes. Once we reached the employees, I knew the conversation would be over. Tressie would play a poor victim hounded by a thoughtless niece.