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Here we go…
“Isaac has nothing to do with what’s happening,” she said. “As a matter of fact, he saved my life.”

“But he wouldn’t have had to do that if you hadn’t been at his place, sleeping with him, to begin with.”

This was turning out to be a frontal assault; Claire hadn’t expected it to be this bad. She’d seen David’s mother upset before, but never so livid her lips quivered and her voice shook. “Rosemary—”

“I was Mom a moment ago.”

“You were Mom until you started acting as if you don’t care about me,” Claire snapped.

“I wouldn’t have said anything if I
didn’t
care. Someone needs to talk some sense into you. If you won’t listen to your own parents, or your sister, who else is there? Do you think David would want to see the woman he adored with a man like
him?
”

The fact that she’d used David to shore up her side of the argument stung, even though Claire should’ve seen it coming. “David’s not here to give his opinion,” she said.

“But you can’t really be satisfied with someone of
his
moral character—” she motioned to Isaac “—after being married to my son!”

Claire thought of when she’d told Laurel she’d never really liked Isaac. She’d regretted making that statement ever since, and not only because it was a lie and had possibly hurt him. She was a coward. Maybe he’d never be able to love her the way she loved him. Maybe they wouldn’t wind up together, as committed as she’d been with David. They were just beginning whatever their relationship would be and couldn’t predict the future. But she was going to have the guts to own up to what she felt, regardless of how it all ended.

“David was a good man,” she said. “I miss him so much and I’ll always love him. But Isaac is just as good. And I love him, too.”

Her mother-in-law’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Love him!” Everyone within earshot turned to look.

Claire felt herself flush but stood her ground.

Isaac left the nozzle in the gas tank and walked over, but he didn’t get involved. He stood behind her, a silent support.

“That doesn’t mean he’s going to love you back.” The gleam in Rosemary’s eyes challenged either one of them to contradict her. “He’s not someone who—”

Claire interrupted before she could go on. She didn’t want Isaac to hear any more of this. Some people might say he deserved his reputation, but who were they to judge? His psyche was so complex
he
probably didn’t understand why he’d done half the stuff he’d done. “You’re right. It doesn’t mean he gives a damn,” she said. “But he doesn’t have to.”

The tension left Rosemary’s spine, making her look fat and deflated. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, I’m okay with it,” Claire replied, and got back in the truck.

Isaac finished getting gas, then climbed behind the wheel. “I’ve always loved you,” he said softly, and started the engine.

27

A
lthough Isaac and Claire had gone over to the Salters’ house three different times since their conversation with Myles at the diner—had called, too—they hadn’t been able to rouse Jeremy or his father. According to what Myles had said at dinner, the county investigator, Jared Davis, had also been trying to reach the Salters.

Claire wasn’t sure where they could be. As far as she knew, other than working at Hank’s—and his shift had already ended—Jeremy didn’t have a lot of places to go. He had no friends, no other family. His father wasn’t working these days. And, strangely enough, both vehicles were parked in the garage…?.

“Why do you think Joe was with Don?” she mused. They were at her place, cleaning, but they’d been analyzing the situation while they worked. It had felt strange to see Joe in Don’s car, but the fact that they were together recently seemed even more suspect now.

“Maybe Joe did this—” he gestured at the glass he was sweeping up in the kitchen “—and had just passed the files off to Don when you saw them. Because I can’t imagine any other reason for the two of them to be together.”

“Neither can I. But why would Don want the files?” They’d cleaned her bedroom and bath the other day, but much of the mess in the kitchen and living room remained. Holding a big garbage sack, she picked through the rubble, throwing away what was too damaged to keep. “There are various names associated with my mother’s, but Don’s has never come up.”

“On our way back from the diner, you said he was good friends with Tug.”

“That was a long time ago. They’ve been mostly estranged for years, ever since my father remarried and Don’s wife left town. I think Don’s been bitter and jealous of Tug’s happiness and money. At least, that’s what my father’s had to say about the rift. And they’ve had words over the way Don treats Jeremy.”

“Jeremy would be a challenge for anyone to raise.”

Claire felt a little protective of her old biggest fan. He’d had a hard life. “He’s a nice kid.”

“He’s not a kid anymore. But I didn’t say he wasn’t nice. I said he’d be a challenge.”

Planning to see if she could find its match, she fished an earring out of the pile of junk on the floor and set it on the coffee table. “Hank does pretty well with him at the burger stand, but his father is…having some serious problems of his own. I don’t like the way I’ve seen them interact.”

“Maybe we should—” Isaac lifted his head.

“What is it?” she asked, but he didn’t answer. He dropped the broom and rushed over to yank her behind the couch with him, then pulled the gun that’d been wedged in his waistband.

“Listen.” He pressed a finger to his lips to indicate silence.

Claire held her breath as she waited for whatever had alarmed him. But then she heard the sound—and recognized it. Leanne’s wheelchair. “It’s okay. It’s just my sister.”

Sure enough, Leanne’s voice rang out a few seconds later. “Hello? Can I come in?”

Claire raised her eyebrows at him. “Should we let her?” she teased.

Isaac didn’t respond to her question. He stood and returned his revolver to his waistband. “Man, I’m jumpy,” he muttered, and went back to work, leaving her to answer the door.

She did, but a bit reluctantly.

“Hi.” She summoned a pleasant expression even though, after the past week, she had no idea what to expect from her sister.

Leanne studied her. “Hi.”

Claire hated how awkward it was between them. “Did you need something?”

A frown appeared on her face. “I have to need something to visit my sister these days?”

In case she hadn’t noticed, they were no longer on the best of terms. “Look, Lee, my life is out of control at the moment. I can’t be the same person I’ve always been for you. I need some time to—”

“You don’t want any more grief about Isaac, and I get that,” she cut in.

They had other problems, but they could start with that. “So…why’d you come?”

“I want to help.”

Claire had never heard those words from Leanne. “You mean…clean up?”

“Whatever you need. Talk about Mom. Tell you what I remember.” Her gaze fell to the floor as if what she had to say next wasn’t easy. “Everything that’s happened, especially the fire, really scared me, Claire. I know I haven’t been the best sister in the world. I’ve got…issues I need to work on. We both know that. And I plan to make some changes. But—” she seemed to be struggling with tears “—I didn’t hurt Mom. I swear it. What I did with that tape and Joe—it was stupid and I’m embarrassed. That’s why I reacted the way I did.” She looked up. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Claire bent to give her a hug. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She sniffed, confirming the tears Claire had heard in her voice. “And if I’m jealous of your hot boyfriend, well…who isn’t?”

Blocking Isaac’s view of them with the door, Claire gestured toward the kitchen. “He can hear you,” she mouthed.

“It won’t be news to him,” she said, but then her grin instantly faded. “I owe you an apology where he’s concerned, too.”

Claire’s stomach muscles tightened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“If you don’t it’s because he’s too good a guy to make me look bad. But I’m sorry all the same. Sometimes I…I have no idea why I do the things I do. Life just gets me down, and I make it worse. It’s…illogical but…it’s me.”

Claire felt the tension in her body begin to dissipate. She understood, because she’d watched her sister struggle through life almost from the day she was born. Claire could certainly forgive her; she’d been forgiving her for years, but she’d rather have it that way than cut her younger sister out of her life. She was grateful that, for once, Leanne had something kind to say about Isaac. The acknowledgment felt great.

Stepping back, Claire opened the door for her sister’s wheelchair. “Come on in. We’re just sorting through stuff and trying to get it in order.”

“At least I hung out with you enough before all this to know where everything has to go. That makes me a
little
more valuable than Isaac.”

“I love you both,” Claire said.

Leanne gaped at the admission. “I knew you loved
me.
You’re supposed to love me. But
him?
Really?”

She was asking about David, but Claire didn’t want to address the subject, so she shrugged it off with a joke. “Shh, it’ll go to his head.”

“That happened fast.”

Claire smiled at the memory of the six months she and Isaac had spent together ten years ago. Their feelings for each other had been simmering a long time. “Not really.”

Leanne sobered. “I’m happy for you,” she said, and seemed to mean it.

“Thanks.” Realizing that this might be the best opportunity to ask her sister the hard questions she still had to ask, she motioned her into the back bedroom and closed the door. “I do have some questions about Mom and…and what happened…with Joe.”

Leanne shifted in her seat as though bracing for the worst. “I hope the fact that you brought me here means you haven’t told Isaac about that.”

“No.” And now Claire was glad because her sister could truly forget that mistake. “But…did Joe really…expose himself to you, Lee?”

They could hear Isaac still cleaning in the kitchen. Claire wondered what he thought about this private moment, but she doubted he’d mind.

Leanne’s cheeks went pink as she shook her head. “No. It was all me. I just… I was so mortified when he went to Mom that…I had to come up with some reason for what I did.”

Claire crouched at her side. “That lie could’ve ruined his life, Lee.”

Fresh tears hovered in her sister’s eyelashes. “Sometimes I’m afraid it did.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t hurt Mom. But—” her chest rose as she drew a deep breath “—I’m afraid what I said got them into a fight. That he killed her and I’m to blame.”

No wonder she hadn’t wanted Claire searching for answers. No one would want that to come out. Her guilt explained why she’d been drinking, too, and some of her other self-destructive habits. “That’s a lot to carry around, Lee.”

Tears streamed down her face. “Too much. Sometimes I…I have to dull the pain.”

With sex and alcohol. Claire squeezed her arm. “It’s off your chest now. Let it go. Even if Joe killed Mom, you’re not to blame. What you did was bad, but you were only thirteen. Kids make mistakes. And causing a fight isn’t murder. If he made that choice, he’s responsible for it.”

Self-recrimination caused Leanne to wring her hands. “But I’ll always feel like she’d still be with us if only I hadn’t…done what I did.”

“Where on earth did you get the idea of creating that tape?” Claire asked.

“Katie’s older cousin was…sixteen. He introduced us to…certain things.”

“He didn’t molest you, did he?”

“He had sex with both of us. More than once. Katie thought she loved him. I thought I loved Joe.”

Claire felt her own eyes burn with tears. Her little sister had been so young. “Mom and Dad didn’t know?”

“Of course not! Neither did Katie’s parents.”

“Where’s this cousin now?”

“Who cares? I never want to see him again—or Katie, either.”

So that was why they’d lost touch. It all made sense now. “But what if Joe
didn’t
do it?” Claire asked. “He
has
to have done it. He and Mom were so upset that day.”

Claire thought of Don Salter burning everything in their mother’s case files. “Can you name one reason Don Salter might have any interest in our mother?”

Leanne blinked several times. “Did you say
Don Salter?
No. Except…he and Dad used to be close. Have you asked Dad about him?”

“Not yet.” But it was interesting that Don had a stronger tie to Tug than he did to Joe, at least back then. “Do you know if Joe and Don are or were ever friends?”

“They weren’t before, but…these days Joe and I pretty much avoid each other, so I have no idea who he might be friends with. Why?”

“I found a copy of our mother’s case files in the studio the night I was attacked. David had them. His handwriting was all over the interviews and stuff. I brought them here, but they went missing during the break-in. Don was seen burning them the day of the fire.”

Leanne’s jaw dropped. “So you think…Don Salter did this?” She waved at the door to indicate the wreckage beyond it.

“We don’t know. We only know that he burned the files.”

“I can’t tell you any more. Jeremy’s the only Salter I’m really familiar with, and that’s mainly because he has one heck of a crush on you. He’s been stalking you for so long I don’t even notice him anymore. But I bet, for five minutes of your time, he’d tell you anything you want. You should give him a call.”

Claire glanced at the clock. “Maybe in a little while. He’s not there, but he has to come home sometime, right?

The phone kept ringing. The doorbell, too. So far Detective Davis, Sheriff King, Deputy Clegg, Tug, Joe, Isaac and Claire had all come by. The noise and the threat of someone barging in and finding that he wasn’t really gone made Jeremy’s head swim. He couldn’t even come out of his father’s bedroom for fear someone would knock at the door. Or the phone would start up again.

Did the police know his father was dead?

They couldn’t. People who’d come had called out for Don as if he was alive. But why did they suddenly want to talk to him? Jeremy’s father hadn’t had this many people come to see him in years.

Covering his ears, Jeremy mumbled, “They can’t know. They can’t. How could they?” Maybe he wasn’t the smartest person in the world, but Mrs. Hattie was his closest neighbor, and she lived clear down by the highway. No way could she have heard the gunshot. Jeremy helped plant her garden every spring. At eighty-one, she couldn’t hear him talking even when he was standing right beside her.

So maybe it wasn’t that they thought his father was hurt or…or worse. Maybe they planned to ask about something else—like the fire. Was Detective Davis trying to reach him about that? Because Don couldn’t have set it. He was dead before it started. Jeremy got confused sometimes, but he was sure of that.

Unless he did it as a
zombie…

No, Jeremy had to remember what was real and what wasn’t. Zombies weren’t real. His father had told him that. And something not real couldn’t set fires.

Which meant someone else did it. But who? The same man his father had hired to kill David?

Just thinking about the possibility that David’s murderer was back in Pineview made Jeremy curl up even tighter on his father’s bed. What his father had done was bad. Really bad. What made it worse was that he said he’d done it for Jeremy. Because that couldn’t be true.

“You’re a liar, Dad. Liar, liar, pants on fire.” He’d
never
wanted anyone to get hurt.

There was another knock at the door. Hugging a pillow to his chest, Jeremy squeezed his eyes closed. “Please go away,” he whispered.

“Don? Don, you there?” It was a man’s voice. “It’s Detective Davis. I’m here on official business.”

Again! Davis kept coming back!

“I’d like a word with you, please.”
Bang, bang, bang.
“Don? Come on now. I see your car’s in the garage.”

How’d he get into the garage? Had he opened the side door?

“If you’re in there, open up.”

Jeremy held his breath, waiting to see if Davis would bust in like he’d seen the cops do on TV. He knew he should probably answer and tell the detective that his father wasn’t home. But he couldn’t think of a good reason for him to be gone. He’d had one but he couldn’t think of it right now. He was too scared. And what if the detective didn’t believe him? Or…or what if Jeremy started to cry when they were talking?

He felt like crying already. He wasn’t himself. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t say what needed to be said. He’d never been so miserable, even after his mother left. “Go away,” he whispered again.

The detective knocked some more. He yelled again, too. Then finally…silence.

After what seemed like a very long time, Jeremy lifted his head to see the clock. Eleven-thirty. That was late. No one was supposed to be coming over during “late.” His father told him it was rude to bother people after ten o’clock.