The Obsession(23)



In shock, she thought. She was in shock. And her mother was dead.

She heard the bell, got slowly to her feet. “I need to go let them in. Don’t leave her alone.”

“Okay. I’ll, um . . . Okay.”

She walked out—sort of like sleepwalking to Anson’s eyes. He looked back at the dead woman.

They wouldn’t get back to school in thirty.





Five




She wore the black dress to her mother’s funeral. She’d never been to a funeral before, and this was more a memorial as there would be no burial.

Seth sat down with her and Mason to talk about that. Did they want to take their mother back to Pine Meadows to bury her?

No, no, no.

Did they want to find a cemetery in New York?

It surprised her how firm Mason had been. No cemetery here either. If she’d been happy in New York, she’d still be alive.

So they’d had her cremated, and in the spring, they’d rent a boat and send her ashes to the air and the sea.

There were tears, of course, but for Naomi they came from rage as much as grief.

She had to talk to the police. For the second time in her life, the police came to her home, went through her home, asked questions.

“I’m Detective Rossini. I’m so sorry for your loss. I know this is a very difficult time, but I have some questions. Can I come in, talk to you?”

Naomi knew that some cops on TV and in the movies were female and pretty, but she’d assumed that was mostly made up. But Rossini looked like she could play a detective on TV.

“Okay.”

She’d gone to her room because she didn’t know what else to do, not with all the police, with Seth and Harry talking to them. And with her mother . . .

Rossini came in, sat on the side of the bed, facing Naomi, who sat in her desk chair with her knees folded up to her chin.

“Can you tell me why you came home today, why you and your friend weren’t in school?”

“We got a pass to come home, get my camera. We work on the school newspaper. I’m supposed to take pictures of rehearsal—the drama club. Is he still here? Is Chaffins—Anson—here?”

“My partner already talked to him. We had him taken back to school.”

“He’ll tell everybody.” Naomi pressed her face to her knees. “He’ll tell everybody about my mother.”

“I’m sorry, Naomi. Can you tell me what happened when you got home?”

“Chaffins wanted a Coke, so I told him to go get a couple of them while I went up for my camera. And Kong—our dog—Kong was outside my mother’s room. He kept whining. He usually stays in Mason’s room or in the courtyard when we’re at school, but . . . Her door was closed, and I opened it. I thought . . . I thought she was sleeping or not feeling well. I couldn’t wake her up, and I saw the pills. I mean the empty bottle. Chaffins came upstairs, and I told him to call nine-one-one. I tried CPR. We took a class, and I knew how. I tried, but I couldn’t make her breathe.”

“She was on the bed when you went in.”

“I tried to get her up, to wake her up enough to walk. If she’d taken too many pills, I could make her walk, and get her to the hospital.”

“She’d done that before? Taken too many pills?”

Naomi just nodded with her face pressed against her knees.

“When did you see her last, before you came home from school?”

“This morning. Harry fixed breakfast, but she didn’t come down for it. I went upstairs, and she was just getting up. She seemed fine. She said she had some errands to run before she went to work, and she’d get breakfast later. She said, ‘Have a good day at school.’”

She looked up then. “My brother. My brother, Mason.”

“Your uncle’s gone to the school to get him. Don’t worry.”

“Do you know who my father is?”

“Yes, Naomi, I do. And I know that for the second time in your life you had to face something no one should ever have to.”

“Will everyone know now? Even though we changed our names, will everyone know?”

“We’re going to do the best we can to keep that out of the press.” Rossini waited a moment. “Do you know how often your mother and your father communicated?”

“She wrote to him, and went to see him a few times, too, since we moved to New York. Mason found out, and he told me. She pretended she wasn’t, but she was. We didn’t tell Uncle Seth or Harry. The movie—she talked to the movie people because he wanted her to. Mason found that out, too. But she’d been trying really hard, and for a couple months or more, she’d been doing good. She’d been happy. Happier. I don’t guess she’s ever been happy since that night I found . . .”

“All right. Your uncle said he’d call your grandparents, and Mr. Dobbs is right downstairs. Do you want me to have him come up, stay with you?”

“No, not right now. Ma’am? You asked about them communicating. Did Mama talk to him today? This morning?”

“I don’t believe your mother and father spoke today.”

“But there’s something. He wrote something to her, didn’t he? Something that had her coming home, after she’d been doing so well, and taking those pills.”

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