Tangled Lies (8 page)

“Good girl, Bella. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“I think I helped, too,” Jesse said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Sasha stood. “I appreciate it. Would you like a doggy biscuit, too?”

Blaze stepped between them and demanded, “Why didn’t you take me with you?”

Sasha swiped the water off her face and propped her hands on her hips. “Did you go somewhere with Pop this morning?”

Blaze’s eyes widened and she shrugged. “Yeah, so? He needed me to help with some errands.”

“So if you had been here when the police called, I would have taken you with me.”

Jesse said, “Pushing her into the water wasn’t cool, Blaze. You need to apologize.”

Blaze crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You don’t tell me what to do.”

“If you did the right thing, nobody would have to tell you what to do.”

She huffed out a breath and shot Sasha a quick glance. “Fine. Sorry.”

Sasha bit her lip to keep from saying things she knew she’d regret. Instead, she took a deep breath and locked eyes with Blaze.

“I’m going to go change, and then I’ll tell Mama what I learned from the police report. You are welcome to join us.”

Blaze nodded. “Sorry,” she muttered again.

Sasha turned and sloshed back toward the house, her stomach in knots. How was she going to take Mama back in time to that awful day without breaking her heart all over again?

After a lukewarm shower in the tiny upstairs bathroom, Sasha found Mama dozing in her padded rocker on the porch. She still couldn’t get used to how sick Mama looked, as though someone had taken all her features and rearranged them in a way that didn’t make sense.
Oh, God, I need courage.

She dropped the copy of the police report on the small wicker table and eased down in another rocker. While Mama slept, she rocked and tried to figure out the best way to phrase things.

Blaze clumped out to the porch and let the screen door slam shut behind her with a thwack before she saw Mama. When Mama twitched and woke up, she mumbled, “Sorry,” and took the rocker next to Sasha.

Sasha gripped the arms of the chair, debated chewing her out again, but let it go.

Mama started smiling before she came fully awake.

“My girls,” she whispered. Even her voice sounded wrong, and it made Sasha want to hit something. She couldn’t stand to watch this disease take her mother from them in little chunks. For a moment, she wished she’d never come home. This emotional torture was why she stayed away. She could get the facts from Eve, dispensed in tidy email messages so she wouldn’t have to deal with all the heart-wrenching realities.

Instead, she forced herself to smile back. “Hey, Mama. Did you get a good snooze?”

“It is so beautiful out here. The sound of the water, the smell of salt in the air, they help me rest.”

“Pop says she doesn’t sleep much at night,” Blaze said.

Sasha experienced a moment’s jealousy that this ornery teen had the relationship with Pop that she herself used to have. For years, she had been the one at Pop’s side. While Cat baked and cooked with Mama and Eve and Mama tended the garden, Sasha hung out at the marina with Pop, working on boat motors, helping the other captains, learning to be a captain herself.

Suddenly Mama’s gaze landed on the pages on the table, and she jerked her eyes up to Sasha. “You got the police report.”

Sasha nodded and picked up the papers. “I managed to get a copy. But,” she said, pausing to look directly at Mama and send a stern look Blaze’s way, “we are not supposed to have these. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, so we can never say where they came from, OK?”

“How could we, since we don’t know?”

Sasha smiled at Blaze. “Exactly.”

Mama’s eyes stayed on Sasha and made her want to squirm. “What did you find out?”

Though she wanted to, Sasha wouldn’t look away. “Nothing, really, that we didn’t already know. Everything that happened that day is neatly spelled out, along with the searches over the next week by volunteers and divers.”

Mama reached into the magazine basket beside her and pulled out Tony’s teddy bear, clutching it to her. Sasha swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Mama, do you remember who called you that day? It wasn’t in the report.”

“Captain Roy’s wife, Mary Lee. She wanted to talk about a bake sale coming up at church. I kept telling her I had to go, and I finally just hung up on her.”

“Did she call you a lot?”

“Not really. But I had the feeling she and Captain Roy were going through a difficult time. It seemed like she was lonely and just wanted someone to talk to.” Mama’s eyes filled. “After . . . I was angry with her for a very long time. I blamed her for what happened to my Tony. And then—then I blamed myself. If I hadn’t been on the phone with her . . .”

Sasha shot from her chair, knelt down in front of Mama, and took both frail hands gently in her own. They felt so fragile, not at all like the tough hands that used to run this family. “Mama, no. Whatever happened is not your fault.”

Silent tears slid down her cheeks. “What if my baby is dead because I was on the phone?”

Sasha squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of something, anything, to say that would help.

“Mama, you said you think Tony is still alive. How do you know?”

Mama blinked back more tears. “I feel it, in here.” She patted a hand over her heart. “Even from the day it happened, I could still feel him, feel the connection. I still do.”

Sasha leaned forward and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Then that’s what you hang on to, OK?”

Mama swallowed and nodded. “What will you do next?”

“I’m going to talk to everyone who was here that day, go over everything again. Maybe there is something the police missed, some question they didn’t ask.”

Behind them, the screen door closed, and Sasha looked over her shoulder to see Pop marching off toward the marina. If she’d known he was in the house, she’s have waited to have this conversation.

Mama looked Sasha in the eye. “I know Sal doesn’t want you to do this—for my sake. But please, I need to know.”

Sasha nodded and slowly stood. She bent and kissed Mama’s cheek. “I will do my best.”

“That is all I ask. God will provide the answers.”

Sasha held the screen door open for Bella, and they slowly walked toward the marina. She had to talk to Pop, try to explain.

Sasha stepped out of the marina bait shop when she heard car doors slamming and women arguing. She shaded her eyes and spotted a shiny blue Lincoln, 1980s vintage, angled in close to the house and two women bearing casserole dishes marching up the porch steps, still in heated conversation.

She jogged off the dock and back to the house, hoping to intercept them before they got to Mama, but she didn’t make it in time. She and Bella burst onto the porch to see the two women alternately bending to kiss the air near Mama’s cheeks.

When the screen door slammed behind her, both women straightened in surprise.

“Sasha! How good to see you again.” The tiny woman with unnaturally black hair stepped over and pulled Sasha’s head down so she could kiss both her cheeks. The smell of baby powder triggered Sasha’s memory.

“Mrs. Markos, how are you?” She bent down and kissed Captain Demetri’s wife on both cheeks as well, then pulled back to look at her. The years had taken their toll on her lined face, but her hair gleamed its usual glossy black, no doubt from regular trips to Beatrice’s beauty shop in town. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

The older woman patted her teased do and gave a wan smile.

“How is Christina?” Sasha asked, then wanted to kick herself as Helen’s smile slid off her face.

“She is the same, always my sweet baby.” She glanced at Mama, then back at Sasha. “But I am grateful for every day.”

Christina Markos had been a surprise, late-in-life baby and had been born severely handicapped. She needed round-the-clock care, which Helen Markos had provided for all the years of her daughter’s life.

“I have a wonderful caregiver who comes for several hours here and there, allowing me to get out for a while and visit friends.” She turned back to Mama and perched in the rocker beside her, gently taking her hand.

The woman who had arrived with Helen turned and offered a hand.

“I don’t know if you remember me, sugar, but I’m Patty Monroe, the chief’s wife.”

Sasha shook hands and gave the woman a quick once-over. She would have remembered this walking stereotype with her big hair and big chest paired with a tiny skirt and high heels. That shade of red hair only came in a bottle, but the shrewd blue eyes looked to be original equipment.

Sasha waved at another chair. “Please, have a seat. What brings you ladies out this way?” Wasn’t it interesting that the chief’s wife suddenly happened by, right after Sasha’s visit to the police station?

Helen patted Mama’s hand and looked up. “I’ve been wanting to come by and wish your mama a happy birthday, since I couldn’t get here for the party.” She motioned toward the cake carrier and casserole dishes on the coffee table and smiled at Mama. “A couple of my Greek specialties. Your favorites.”

“Thank you, Helen. You’re a good friend.” Mama smiled, then looked at Patty, who shrugged.

“I don’t bake or cook much, so I brought you a scarf I crocheted.” She reached into a gift bag and pulled out the most hideous-looking scarf Sasha had ever seen. Mama’s eyes widened with alarm as Patty loomed over her and wrapped the fuchsia-and-purple fuzzy caterpillar around her neck.

When Mama’s hands fumbled, Sasha stepped to her side and loosened the puffy wool so she could breathe.

“Looks great on you, Rosa,” Patty pronounced, and settled into a wicker chair. Then she turned her laser-sharp gaze on Sasha. “So what’s all this nonsense about you nosing around in an old police case?”

Mama made a small sound of distress, and Helen snapped, “Patty, please. Not now.”

Patty took in Mama’s wounded look and crossed her arms before she fastened her gaze on Sasha. “You haven’t been here three days and you’re already causing trouble.”

“How exactly am I causing trouble by asking questions?” Sasha raised her eyebrows and mirrored Patty’s pose.

“The past is dead and gone—pardon the expression, Rosa—and should be left alone. Why are you digging around in something that happened so long ago?”

“Why should anyone care, then? Where’s the harm?” Sasha shot back.

Patty came out of her chair, and suddenly they were nose to nose.

“The harm is that bringing up the past reminds people of a terrible tragedy.” She flung out a manicured hand in Mama’s direction. “I would think you’d want to protect her from that.”

“I asked her to look for answers.”

Helen gasped at Mama’s quiet statement, and Patty’s eyes widened as she turned toward Mama.

“Why on earth would you do that, sugar?”

The fierce look in Mama’s eyes made Sasha smile inwardly. She might be sick, but she wasn’t done fighting, not by a long shot.

“I want answers. Is that so hard to understand?”

They stared each other down. Patty looked away first. Helen, always the local peacemaker, hopped up from her chair and gently kissed Mama’s cheeks again.

“It was good to see you, Rosa. I will come back when I can.”

Mama smiled. “You’ve been a good friend, Helen. Kiss Christina for me. We’ll enjoy the food you brought.”

Patty stepped in behind Helen and patted Mama’s hands. “Take care of yourself, Rosa. I heard chemo makes you cold. Hope the scarf helps.”

As Patty passed Sasha on the way out, she hissed, “Leave the past where it belongs.”

Sasha waited until they pulled away, then turned to Mama. “How long has Patty been married to the chief?”

Mama shrugged. “Twenty years, at least. But she was away a lot while her mother was ill.” She paused. “She and Chief Monroe have always had a strange relationship.”

“Strange, how?”

“I’ve heard her treat him like he wasn’t worth her time, yet both of them act like they’re royalty and the rest of the people in this town are beneath their notice.”

Interesting. That meshed with her own feelings about Chief Monroe. Mama leaned her head back in the chair and fumbled with the scarf. Sasha reached over and tugged it free, then tossed it back into the gift bag.