The Last Invitation (9)

“What’s wrong with you?” Kennedy asked.

“Huh?” Gabby realized she was standing there, out of it, instead of cutting the watermelon in front of her. She’d meant to make fruit salad, but there had been so many things she’d meant to do over the last few days and failed. She spent most of her time dazed, trying to remember why she’d walked into a room and if she’d remembered to brush her hair that morning.

“It’s not the first time she didn’t hear me knock.” Liam stepped into the doorway and put an arm around Kennedy. “Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?”

She grabbed on to him. “Uncle Liam.”

Seeing them together brought a rush of tears to Gabby’s eyes. She fought them back because a weepy mother was an annoying mother. Kennedy had been quite clear about that.

“Are you checking on us?” Gabby asked.

Liam winked at her. “Sort of.”

Kennedy let go of her uncle just long enough to deliver a withering sigh. “Mom.”

Gabby wasn’t sure what she’d done this time, but she could play the name game all day. “Kennedy.”

Kennedy rolled her eyes. “At least let him come inside before you bombard him with questions.”

A dramatic teen. Gabby barely had the bandwidth for that nonsense on a good day, and she hadn’t had one of those in a long time. “I didn’t—”

“Maybe put the knife down first.” Liam glanced at Gabby’s hand. “Just a suggestion.”

“What?” Gabby looked down at the blade clenched in her fist. She dropped it, earning a second sigh from Kennedy. “Sorry.”

“He’ll agree with me,” Kennedy said without moving from Liam’s side.

Gabby knew the context without having it spelled out for her. She chalked that skill up to years of living with a child whose mind raced ahead of her words. But this topic . . . Gabby was not in the mood. “Not now, Kennedy.”

Kennedy turned to her uncle. “She insists I go back to boarding school. The same school she supposedly hated and told Dad and the court I should leave.”

Because, of course, Baines had filled Kennedy in on the marital arguments. The fact he used his daughter as a divorce sounding board was one of his many questionable life choices.

“Admit it.” Kennedy’s tone switched from sullen to taunting. “Now that it’s not a reason to fight with Dad, you’re fine with the school.”

At least she wasn’t crying. Gabby hoped that was a good sign.

“It’s about consistency. You should finish out the semester then make a decision when we’ve all had a little distance from . . .” Gabby didn’t bother to finish the sentence. Dr. Downing, the child psychologist she talked to, had suggested the school might provide stability right now, and that advice boxed Gabby in.

Kennedy snorted. “Whatever.”

“I think, maybe, you should give your mom a break,” Liam said.

“You always side with her.” Then Kennedy was off. She delivered her opinion and left in a huff.

Gabby was ready for this phase, whatever it was, to be over.

She picked up the knife, thinking to give that fruit salad idea a second shot. “Sorry. It’s a defense mechanism.”

Liam smiled. “What is?”

“I have no idea. I’ve been reading about grief in this book a counselor gave me about helping teens through losing a parent. Honestly, I want all of this to end. To somehow feel better.” Gabby had never felt more useless as a mom. She’d thought the divorce was a low point, but this showed them all a new low.

“Funny you should mention something being over.” Liam slid onto the bar stool across from her at the kitchen island. “Detective Melissa Schone came to see me this morning.”

That didn’t sound great. Gabby gave up trying to cut the fruit and threw the knife in the sink this time. “Lucky you.”

“She said she talked to you again yesterday and you’re still saying Baines didn’t kill himself.”

Gabby intended to say it until someone listened to her. “You know he didn’t.”

He must have seen the confusion in her face because he sighed before continuing, “She said there’s no evidence anyone hit you on the head or anything else.”

“The guy from the ambulance crew looked me over for two whole minutes. I admit I feel fine, but he could have missed something.” But the lack of blood or a bump or some sign of being knocked out was a problem. She’d searched her hair and scalp looking for some verification but couldn’t find any.

“While the ambulance crew checked on you, the detective checked Baines’s security feed.”

His what? She knew about the alarm system and motion sensor lights in the yard but not about anything more extensive. “Okay.”

“According to the detective, you’re the only one on the video. No one goes in or out of the house all morning, except you. That means if someone killed Baines it was probably you.” He said the words, then leaned over and picked up a few grapes. Sat there munching as if he hadn’t said something completely obscene.

The words struck her, leaving her a little breathless. “You don’t believe that.”

“Of course not, but I think you need to stop talking about the cause of his death, no matter what that means for you financially.” Some of the tension ran out of him, and his shoulders fell. “Look, I’ll help on that score. You know that.”