Page 72 of 4th Silence
Jerome shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about that. We’ve been living in our places for so long that I didn’t anticipate how expensive it would be to start over. But what if, and I’m not saying it’ll happen, living together doesn’t work out? I don’t want to ruin—emotionally speaking—your place for you.”
Jerome. Always so thoughtful. I love that about him.
I lean in and kiss him softly, lingering for a few seconds while my body comes to life. We’ve been making up for lost time in the bedroom the last two days, and clearly, I’m not done.
Before my hormones derail this conversation, I back away. “I love you,” I say. “Thank you for thinking ahead and looking at all the angles. No matter what happens with us, I’ll always love you. Always. If we don’t work out, I’d still have a home with a bunch of great memories.”
He holds the phone up again. “It would keep us from dealing with this search.”
“You’d be free of the dreaded rental apps.”
At this, he smiles. “Thank God. It’s your place, Meg. If you’re comfortable with it, I say let’s try it.”
Relief, that glorious loosening of muscles, flows over me. I’ve hated the idea of leaving my house but understood Jerome’s point. He wanted something that was ours, not mine. After his rental hunt, he doesn’t seem all that bothered by us staying in my place.
It makes so much more sense.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of red on the television screen. Breaking news. The anchors are suddenly onscreen. I grab the remote and unmute the volume as Felicia, the lead anchor, begins speaking.
“Alex Hartman, son of local philanthropist Mary Hartman, has been charged with the murder of his cousin, Tiffany. The case has stumped law enforcement for thirty years, and now a local cold case group has helped solve this crime. Let’s go live to Abigail Gaines outside the Hartman mansion, where Citizens Solving Cold Cases is holding a vigil.”
Oh boy. My mother must be loving this.
The screen cuts to a young brunette reporter, presumably Abigail. The camera pans wide and?—
Yep.
There’s my mother.
Two hours ago, she was at the grocery store stocking up on everything she needed for tomorrow’s meal.
“Isn’t she supposed to be at home with your dad?” Jerome asks.
I hold up a hand and focus on the screen. Mom is wrapped in the coat Charlie gave her for her birthday last year. Perched on her head is a black hat expertly positioned so her hair falls across her forehead.
My mother may be insane, but she knows how to work a camera.
“My father must be losing it. And there goes our fantastic homemade meal.”
I scoop my phone from the coffee table and text Charlie: PUT THE NEWS ON! NOW!
“Good evening,” Abigail says. “I’m here with Helen Schock, president of Citizens Solving Cold Cases.” She angles to face Mom. “Helen, thank you for joining us. What can you tell us about why you all are out here.”
“Well, Abbie,” Mom begins, her voice thick with concern, “on the anniversary of Tiffany’s death, where else would we be? That child was brutally murdered in this home. A time when all children should feel safe and loved.”
I groan. “She’s really laying it on.”
“Finally,” Mom says, “after years of law enforcement dragging their heels and pandering to the Hartmans, we have an arrest.”
“Oh. My. God,” I say, my voice rising because what in the actual hell is she doing?
Charlie is already on the outs with JJ. This stunt will infuriate him.
It’s bad enough that the U.S. Attorney’s office, JJ’s office, is in disarray after his deputy was arrested. JJ already blames us for interfering in his case, and now Charlie is forced to spend Christmas without him while our mother antagonizes the situation.
I turn to Jerome. “I may have to kill my mother.”
“You’ve said that before.”
