Page 12 of Memory of Murder
“The more I looked at the case as a whole, I realized something important. As much as Mary Morton wanted the truth to come out—as insistent as she was that she was innocent—this really was never about her. She had accepted her fate. Which is why she stopped fighting the appeals process. It’s why she refused to see you when you became of age. She didn’t want you to live the rest of your life with this thing hovering in the background like a dark cloud ready to rain on you at the worst possible time.”
Anne visibly held her breath…waited for him to go on.
He shook his head, dead certain in his assessment. “As time went on she recognized that there was only one way to make this right. Then she learned of the cancer and that her time was short and she grew desperate, which is why she contacted the agency. But this was not about her. She confirmed as much in her journal. This is, and always has been, aboutyou.”
The mixture of emotions on Anne’s face spoke loudly and clearly of her understanding. She got it, and she appeared prepared to do this for herself and maybe even for her mother.
Chapter Six
Johnsburg
Water’s Edge Hotel
Chapel Hill Road, Noon
The rooms were on the second floor and had balconies that overlooked the water. Not such a bad way to spend the next few days. The community of Johnsburg was one of many smaller ones that surrounded Crystal Lake.
Anne wandered from the closed sliding door that led onto the balcony back to the queen-size bed that stood in the center of the room. She opened the small suitcase she had tossed there. She had packed for a stay through the weekend. Being home by Monday was, in her mind, a hard deadline.
Not that she couldn’t nudge it deeper into next week if necessary, but she preferred to be home by then. Since going out on her own she had never spent more than a day or two from work. Lisa would handle things. No need, really, to worry about the business, but somehow she couldn’t help herself.
Jackson Brenner had been right, she realized. He’d given her a lot to think about on the drive here. It hadn’t taken that long. Just over an hour. She’d spent that time wondering why none of her mother’s supposed closest friends had checked on Anne after she was moved into foster care. She imagined it was possible one or the other had attempted to take her in and had been turned down. Anne couldn’t see any reason that would have happened. The more likely scenario was that noone had tried. None testified on Mary’s behalf. Given their testimony, why in the world would any have wanted to welcome her child into their lives? Eve Redford (now Langston) and Kevin Langston had been called as defense witnesses, but their testimony had been damaging rather than helpful. Carin Carter, now Wallace, had been out of the picture by then.
Was the lack of support from close friends because Mary had been guilty?
Apparently so—in their minds anyway.
Anne pushed the thoughts away for the moment and removed the clothes from her bag. She hung up the tees and jeans along with the two more businesslike blouses she had added at the last moment. One pair of dress pants and two pairs of jeans. She’d worn her favorite sneakers and packed a pair of leather loafers to go with the dressier attire.
Her cosmetics bag she stored in the bathroom. Not that she wore that much makeup. Mascara and a very basic foundation. Occasionally she added a little blush, so she’d brought that too. Makeup and nail polish weren’t her things. She preferred simple and easy to maintain. A hairbrush and deodorant along with a toothbrush and paste were necessary.
The skin lotion she used at night was her only fragrance. And it was so subtle no one ever noticed it.
But that was Anne. Simple. Basic. Rarely noticed beyond her design skills.
She thought of the man in the next room. He was tall, broad shouldered. Very nice eyes. They were kind, expressive. He had a nice smile too. Most important, he seemed really good at his work. She supposed the next few days would tell the tale on that one. She had no reason to expect otherwise given that the Colby Agency had such a prestigious reputation. She’d actually been surprised at what a big deal the agency was. The fact that they had taken up her mother’s case was almost shocking. Anne feltconfident it wasn’t for any sort of accolades—and certainly not for money.
Maybe it was because they liked championing the underdog.
A soft knock on the door drew her in that direction. She checked the viewfinder. Her partner for this endeavor.Time to get this show started.She took a deep breath and opened the door. “Let me grab my purse and I’m ready.”
“Lunch first, or straight into the tour?”
Brenner waited in the door while she grabbed her shoulder bag from the desk. Her stomach said eat, but her brain wanted to get on with what they’d come to do. Her brain generally won out in these sorts of debates, which was why Lisa was constantly after her about forgetting to eat.
“If it’s okay,” she said as she approached the door once more, “we can start the tour and eat a little later.”
“Absolutely.” He held up a hand, two protein bars fisted there. “I thought you might say that.”
She accepted one of the bars. “Thank you.” She opened the wrapper as they walked to the stairs. Her stomach had decided to remind her that she actually was hungry.
By the time they reached the lobby she had scarfed down the bar. Brenner grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the machine in the niche near the exit and tossed one to her. Funny how quickly she was beginning to really like this guy.
In the lot he opened the passenger-side door of his car and waited for her to climb in. Once he’d closed the door and settled behind the steering wheel she asked, “What should I call you? Do you prefer Mr. Brenner or Jackson?”
Seemed like she would have asked or he would have said before now. But it had been a strange twenty odd hours. Maybe he had and she’d simply forgotten.
“Most people call me Jack,” he said as he backed out of the parking slot.
