She had just turned off the water with the intention of leaving the casserole dish to soak when she heard Zach’s voice from the living room, raised in what sounded like anger.
“You expect me to believe that?”
Clutching the hand towel, Tess stood utterly still. Did she want to intervene? Or should she flee into the backyard?
But—what a shock—she was too nosy to do either. She sidled toward the living room, stopping just out of sight of the two men.
I’ll listen only long enough to find out what’s wrong, she told herself. Okay, justified to herself.
“Believe what you want.” Bran’s cool voice had chilled.
“So you completely lacked curiosity. You never once said, ‘Hey, Dad, did you suspect anyone’?”
“You think he wouldn’t have told the police? Get real.”
“I think you’re a police detective, which makes it a real oddity that you never looked at her killing as a cold case. I mean, here you are, right in town. Just didn’t occur to you, huh?”
A protracted silence ratcheted up Tess’s worry. But there were no thuds or grunts, so they weren’t going at it physically. What were they doing, glaring daggers at each other?
“I was...trying to honor what I thought Dad wanted,” Bran said, his voice altered almost beyond recognition. It was slow and heavy. “I think he was afraid—” He stopped.
“Of what? That if the lid came off the can, the cops would be looking at him again?”
I shouldn’t be listening, she thought, but her feet didn’t move.
“That it was one of Mom’s bed buddies!” Bran yelled. “That he’d be humiliated if it got out, that she’d be destroyed if she understood it was her fault Sheila died! Don’t you get it? He loved her even after everything.”
Heart pounding, Tess began backing away. But then she did hear a thud, as if one of the men had thrown something.
“Oh, screw this!” It was Bran again, sounding enraged. “You’re on a vendetta against Dad, aren’t you? Why have I been bothering to help? Believing in Dad would mean you have to admit how bad you screwed up. And you can’t do that, can you?” He spat out an obscenity. Moments later the front door opened and slammed closed.
Tess scuttled back to the kitchen and turned on the faucet as if she was just finishing up. But when Zach didn’t come to the kitchen, she couldn’t stand it another minute.
“Zach?” she called.
There was no answer.
She went to the living room but found it empty. Bedroom? Bathroom? He wasn’t anywhere.
Oh, heavens—had he followed Bran out?
Tess hurried to the front door and flung it open, expecting the worst, but Bran’s Camaro was gone and she didn’t see Zach, either. She called his name softly and was answered by silence.
Had he followed Bran and the two had agreed to go to a bar or something? He’d have told her, wouldn’t he? And...the front door had been unlocked. He had left it unlocked after all his lectures to her.
Her disquiet grew until her stomach cramped.
The man she knew was passionate, yes, but also strong, determined, calm under stress. He’d been a rock for her. And now he was either crumbling or—
Looking out at the empty front yard and the dark street and sidewalk, she thought back to their past few days. Her terrified awareness of the faceless figure out front, followed by a missile exploding through the front window. Zach yelling, racing after Hayes or whoever it had been. Then the scene after the movie the very next night.
She had tried to joke about it. Now Tess’s heart cramped at the memory of what he’d said, and of his oddly distant, resigned tone.
We can’t get away from it, can we?
Maybe his mood didn’t have anything to do with finding out his cold case investigation had to move on from Duane Womack. Maybe what was really getting to him was his forced realization that his role of protector wasn’t going to be as short-lived as he’d imagined.
If being stuck with her had begun to chafe, it was no wonder his temper was short.
And, no, she would not let herself cry. She might be totally wrong about what was going on with him. And if she wasn’t? Well...he’d done a lot for her, but he hadn’t promised to grow old with her.