He ignored her question. He'd never had a woman--anyone, really--
refuse his friendship. "Why don't you want to be friends with me?"
She was once again shielded by her menu. "Because you have too many friends as it is."
Taken aback, he pushed her menu down so he could see her face.
"What makes you think that?"
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"I can tell."
"Simply because I happen to know the hostess?"
The menu went back up. "It's just how you are."
He forced it down again. "I don't collect friends. I like a lot of people.
There's a difference."
"If you say so."
"I say so. And there's nothing wrong with that." Although her accusation echoed something his mother had said before the mess with Kalyna--that he didn't seem to have strong feelings about any of the women he dated. She'd said he was too affable, too easygoing, always somewhere in the middle, and she was right on-target. Only Marissa had penetrated to the heart of him, and she'd married his best friend.
"I can't argue," she said with a shrug.
"Then why did you say it?" he asked.
"I'd rather be one in a mil ion to someone, that's all."
Now she was pissing him off. "Are you one in a mil ion to Geoffrey?"
She took a sip of water. "I don't want to talk about Geoffrey, either."
"Of course not. You're not even sleeping with him. How much can he mean to you?"
"Maybe I'm just more selective than you are."
"If you're suggesting I sleep around, I don't. I made a mistake that night with Kalyna, I'l give you that. And I'm paying the price. But don't assume that's normal behavior for me, because it's not."
She raised one hand. "That's your personal business. You don't have to explain your habits."
The fact that she didn't seem to care bothered him. "And for the record, you're not being selective, Ava. You're hiding behind your work.
You won't let anyone really get to know you. And you want me to tell you why?"
"No."
He told her, anyway--and leaned halfway across the table to do it.
"Because you're scared."
"Can we decide on breakfast?"
"You don't have anything to say about that?" he asked.
"I'm not scared. What would I be scared of? You?"
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"Maybe."
She finally set her menu aside. "It's not fear, Luke. I'm not stupid enough to fall for someone who's prettier than I am, that's all. Especially someone who can't fall as hard as I can."
He gaped at her. He could've argued about the pretty part, but she was right about the rest. He
couldn't
fall as hard as she could. He was afraid he couldn't fall, period. No matter whom he dated--no matter how attractive, nice, intelligent--he couldn't seem to feel that all-consuming passion his father felt for his mother. Not since high school.
"You don't know that," he said, but it was a feeble response and she suddenly seemed ashamed, as if she realized she'd struck a nerve.
With a sigh, she removed her sunglasses. "She used antifreeze, okay?"
"What?"
"My mother. She tried to poison Pete with antifreeze. She put it in a diet drink she concocted to help him lose weight."
This was her apology for being upset and taking it out on him. He knew that. He also knew he should let her off the hook by telling her she didn't need to talk about it. But she wouldn't share what had happened with just anyone. If she'd trusted him with the details of
this,
they were friends, even if she denied it, which put him back on more familiar--and comfortable--ground. "How long ago?"
"Five years."
"How was it discovered?"
"By chance, really. He got so sick he drove himself to the hospital while my mother was at work. The doctor who treated him had seen this kind of poisoning before. When my mother showed up and kept asking if Pete would survive, he found it odd and decided to run the tests. The toxicology report showed proof of ethylene glycol, and she was the only one who could've administered it."
"Wouldn't he have tasted it?"
"It's clear and odorless and tastes sweet. At least it used to, until the manufacturers changed it. She put it in his diet drinks, and he thought that was just the way they tasted. Then it came out that she'd recently purchased another life-insurance policy in his name--with herself as the 194
sole beneficiary--and that was all it took."
"How'd you find out about the poisoning?"
"I received a call at work. I didn't have the money to continue my education the way I'd originally planned, so I'd gotten a job at Bank of America as a teller."
"
She
called to confess or--"
"No, it was my father. My real father. When they arrested her, she didn't reach out to me. She turned to him." She frowned. "
That
should've told me something."
A wave of sympathy caused Luke to lower his voice. "The whole thing must've come as a terrible shock."
She flinched despite an apparent effort to conceal the depth of her hurt. "I refused to believe it until I heard what she yel ed out in court as they took her away."
"What?"
"'He owed me that money!' The guilty verdict had already been read, but it was that line that convicted her in my mind. Until that moment, I'd stood by her regardless of the evidence."
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't be. I'm fine now. I'm past it."
She wasn't even close, but he let that go. "Why'd she do it?"
"I don't know exactly." She shook her head. "She was miserable. I don't think she ever got over my father. She had a hard time seeing him move on to one woman after another without giving her a thought. So she finally quit waiting for him to realize he'd lost the love of his life and married again. And, well...you met Pete. It was a disaster." She toyed with her sunglasses. "My father had fidelity issues and he was shallow, but he was also dashing, debonair and full of life. Pete is a slug. He gave her nothing emotionally or financially. He claimed he had an injured back and couldn't work, so he sat in front of the TV all day while she worked at the neighborhood elementary school, in the cafeteria, and sold Tupperware on the side. They got behind on their bil s, argued constantly. Then she began cleaning houses on weekends. He claimed he had a settlement coming for a worker's comp injury, but that never materialized. She was really counting on the money and when she found out he'd been lying all along just to 195
avoid work, she decided he'd pay up one way or another. His life insurance was how she'd get a fresh start and--" she winced again "--help me afford school so I could finish."
Ava obviously felt some personal responsibility for the situation. "How old were you when they got together?"
"I was in high school but left for college soon after. That's why I didn't know their relationship was as bad as it was. Although I mostly put myself through college, my mother would send me money every once in a while.
She'd insist she was doing fine. And of course I'd visit on weekends and holidays. But..." The slight tremor in her voice told him she was close to tears. He'd broken down her defenses because he couldn't stand to be shut out and now he felt guilty for dredging up a subject that was so painful for her.
Reaching across the table, he took her hand. He expected her to pull away. She was determined not to need anyone, to shoulder her burdens on her own. But she allowed him to move his fingertip lightly over her palm.
"Sometimes people get desperate," he said. "Sometimes they make bad decisions."
"Bad
decisions?"
she echoed. "She tried to kil him!"
The anger and bitterness she carried inside were more than apparent. But so was the longing she felt for the mother she'd once had.
The attempted murder had occurred when she was probably at her most self-absorbed, focused on her schooling and the hope of a good career.
From what he could sense, she didn't blame her mother as much as she blamed herself--for not seeing her mother's desperation, for not being there to relieve it before it cost them each other.
"It might be easier if you'd forgive her--and yourself," he added and, just like that, she closed up again. Yanking away her hand, she got up and stalked to the restroom and Luke was left with the sensation of her fingers slipping through his.
Ava didn't want to leave the restroom. She hadn't known Luke long but he had a way of making her feel as if there was nowhere to hide. She kept trying to convince herself he was as shallow as her father, nothing more than a handsome face, but then he'd catch a nuance her father 196
would've missed, and that forced her to respect him. Even Geoffrey took what she said about her mother at face value. It was Luke who'd immediately driven to the heart of the matter. And he was right. She couldn't forgive Zelinda, but she held herself more accountable than anyone. She'd let her mother down; because of that Zelinda had become so needy and desperate she'd committed a terrible act, and now their lives would never be the same.
Could she have changed the situation if she'd been more observant?
More supportive? A better daughter? Those were the questions she asked herself time and again, but the answers never came. There was no way to go back and rectify the situation. That was the worst part of all.
Knowing she had to go out and face Luke again, she stared at herself in the mirror above the sink. When they'd walked into the restaurant, the hostess had looked her up and down as if she couldn't quite believe they were together. And Ava didn't blame her. They were a mismatch. That was clear to everyone. But it didn't stop her from craving his touch. This morning, when she'd opened her eyes and found him standing over her, every nerve had come to life.
The door opened. "Ms. Bixby?"
Ava turned to see the hostess. "Yes?"
"Are you okay? Captain Trussell wanted me to check."
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "I'm fine. Tell him I'l be out in a minute."
What the heck was wrong with her? She couldn't stand there in the restroom mooning over Luke. She had work to do.
If only Pete hadn't shown up today. Then Luke would've left and she'd be home by herself....
After splashing some water on her face, she walked out, but her cell phone rang before she could cross the restaurant. Staying near the restrooms so she wouldn't disturb the other diners, she pulled it from her pocket and touched the Talk button. "Hello?"
"Ms. Bixby?" It was a male voice calling from a 480 area code--
Arizona. The rest of the number she didn't recognize.
"Yes?"
"This is Detective John Morgan from the Mesa Police Department in 197
Arizona."
The only person she knew from Arizona was Kalyna. Had something happened to her?
Flashbacks of the call she'd received the day Bella Fitzgerald hanged herself hit with startling impact, and Ava's knees went weak. Had it happened again? Had she completely missed the signs that a second human being was living so close to the edge?
She could see Luke watching her from across the room, noted the concern on his face as he got up and came toward her, but she stayed where she was. "Don't tell me you're calling about Kalyna Harter," she said, scarcely able to breathe.
"I'm afraid so," Detective Morgan responded. "How well do you know Sergeant Harter?"
Trying to concentrate despite the worst-case scenario that had instantly appeared in her mind, Ava pressed the fingertips of her free hand to her temple. "I work for a victims' charity in Sacramento. She came to me last Monday, claiming she'd been raped. That was the first time I'd ever met her."
There was a brief pause while he absorbed this information, but Ava couldn't wait for him to formulate his next question. She had to know what was going on. "Please tell me she's okay."
"I have no idea," he said. "I haven't seen her, although I'd like the chance to speak with her. It seems she left early this morning. Just about the time her mother was murdered."
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"W
hat is it?" Luke asked when Ava had finished her conversation.
She hit the End button and glanced up at him. "Kalyna's mother is dead. Someone kil ed her early this morning."
He grew even more alert. "You're kidding me."
"No. Her husband found her on the kitchen floor when he got up at nine. There were signs of a struggle. Her money was gone. So was her wedding ring."
"Was it Kalyna?"
Ava slipped the phone into her pocket. "They don't know yet, but...she's a suspect. She was there last night."
"She's not there now?"
"No."
"Oh, God." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's psycho, completely nuts."
"You may be right."
"Who called to tell you?"
Two diners kept looking at her, so she pulled Luke farther into the alcove by the restrooms. "A detective from the Mesa police. Kalyna's sister, Tati, told him I was working with Kalyna. He thought she might've tried to contact me. That I might be able to tell him where she is."
"The air force sure as hell can't tell him."
"No."
"What does he think happened?"
"He doesn't know yet. He said Mr. Harter insists it had to be Kalyna.
Tati claims it could be someone named Mark Cannaby."
"Who's Mark Cannaby?"
"From what I was told, he used to work for the Harters. He hasn't for several years, but he only lives three miles away and works just down the street at the cemetery."
"The detective told you all this?"
199
"Yes."
"Aren't they usually pretty tight-lipped?"
"Professional courtesy. He's familiar with TLS. He once met Skye at a forensics seminar in Scottsdale."
"Why would Tatiana blame this Mark Cannaby? Did she see him skulking around the house or yard or--"
"She didn't see him. She had no clue there was anything wrong until her dad cried out. But there's plenty of animosity between Cannaby and the Harters and has been ever since he was let go. When Kalyna was sixteen, they suspected he was messing around with her, so they started watching him very closely."