“Okay, okay. I know it sounds a little crazy, but remember that patient I was telling you about, the one who fell while jogging and ended up in the ER?”
“Yes. At Boxer Bluff.” So Maribelle had been listening.
“Unfortunately, she didn’t make it. Her name was Jocelyn Wallis, and she was a schoolteacher, who, as it turns out, was born around here. And she looked a lot like me. Enough to freak out some of the nurses I work with.”
Her mother grew deathly quiet for the first time since they’d sat down as Kacey explained the details. She refolded the napkin twice before Kacey launched into her resemblance to Shelly Bonaventure, another woman who looked like her and was born in the area.
“I saw that she’d died. Not much of an actress, if you ask me,” Maribelle said. “And I suppose she might look a little like you, but so what?” She was shaking her head. “What are you suggesting? That those women were fathered by your uncles?” She rolled her eyes. “And then what? Adopted to other families and we never heard about it?”
“Or maybe Dad, before he met you . . .”
“Oh, Acacia, stop it! Right now! If Stanley had any
other children, don’t you think I’d know about it?” she demanded.
“Maybe he didn’t know.”
“We’re talking about your father! Remember him?” She shot her daughter a withering glance. “He would be mortified if he were here, Acacia! As it is, he’s probably rolling over in his damned grave!” She shuddered theatrically. “Your friends have overactive imaginations, or some need to put some drama into their lives.” Leaning back in her chair, she glared at Kacey and shook her head. “Come on, Acacia! How many long-lost cousins do you think the family’s hidden from you?”
“Maybe none. I don’t know. I’m just saying it’s strange.”
“So many things in life are ‘strange’ or ‘odd’ or ‘coincidence. ’ ” After making air quotes, she waved her hand as if to dismiss the entire topic, as if it were inconsequential claptrap. But her cavalier attitude didn’t quite match the sliver of concern that Kacey noticed in her mother’s eyes as she added, “You know, people see resemblances with each other all the time. People make entire careers out of being celebrity lookalikes. Now, that’s the end of this inane conversation!” She turned her attention back to her pumpkin cheesecake. “Mitch really outdid himself with this. Try a little, and don’t forget to get a bit of the whipped cream.”
“Nice dodge, Mother,” she said.
“Taste it, and drop this ridiculous inquisition—”
“It’s not an inquisition. I’m just asking about the family.”
“And I’ve answered, so that’s that.”
Her mother transformed into the Maribelle Collins Kacey recognized best: the set, jutted jaw; the pursed lips; the narrowed eyes. Her neck was nearly bowed, and Kacey knew she would learn nothing else. Tonight. Not from her mother.
What Maribelle didn’t realize was that, rather than turn Kacey’s attention away, she’d practically ensured her daughter was going to keep digging. There were other ways to check birth records, and she had access as a doctor. For now, she couldn’t nudge her mother any further and there was no reason to antagonize her, but she was not giving up.
She’d learned while growing up that she could push her mother only so far. So now, Kacey didn’t argue. It wouldn’t make any difference, anyway. If Maribelle didn’t want to talk about something, she just didn’t.
So, it was time to feign the peace, if not make it. “Okay,” Kacey said, lifting her spoon. “Let’s see if Mitch’s cheesecake is all that it’s cracked up to be.” Reaching across the small table, she plunged her spoon into the dessert and noticed her mother’s shoulder muscles, beneath the shimmering silver silk, relax a bit.
“Mmmm, that is good,” Kacey said, as if savoring the sweet taste of caramel. But the words were rote as she wondered why her mother was determined to change the subject away from her father or uncle or cousins or anyone associated with the family. If she hadn’t felt so before, Kacey was pretty certain now that there were more than a few skeletons in the family closet.
CHAPTER 12
“ What’re you still doing here?”
The sheriff’s voice almost echoed down the empty hallway.
Seated at her desk, her gaze drawn to the computer monitor, Alvarez glanced over her shoulder just as Dan Grayson actually stepped into her office area.
Her insides tensed slightly, just as they always did whenever she was alone with him. The weird thing was that it wasn’t because he was her boss; she had worked for different overseers since she was fifteen and had never experienced this reaction, but there was something about Grayson that put her just a little on edge. And she didn’t like it. “I was just catching up on some things.” Rolling the chair around, she found him looming above her.
He filled the doorway, a tall man with broad shoulders and a mustache going gray. Sturgis, his dog, a black Lab who was a washout with the K-9 unit, was right behind him.
“You do know it’s a holiday.”
“Thanksgiving. I heard.”
He chuckled deep in his throat, and she hated that she found the sound pleasing, that she, too, wanted to smile. Good Lord, what was wrong with her?