Page 91 of Say Yes to the Death

She jabbed a finger into the metal table. “We had a yard sale to get rid of you. Did you know that? We sold your ties, your vintage record collection. We used the money for a security deposit on a crappy apartment because that was all we could afford when you abandoned us. I was in our front yard, six years old, haggling with people who wanted to take pieces of you away from me.”

He leaned against the wall in the corner of the room, arms folded, and painfully silent.

“Thank god Mom married Roy. He was there for every father-daughter dance, every field hockey game, even though I wasn’t biologically his. He loved me as he would have loved his own daughter. He’s a real man.”

Jack’s face was flushed, and his hands had curled into fists. “Do you want to know why I never came back, Claire? Your mother never allowed it. She threatened restraining orders. Returned every birthday card I ever sent. She got full custody of you and denied any visitation rights, claiming abuse.”

“Bullshit.” Claire slapped the table. “You left because you got another woman pregnant. You started a new family and wanted nothing to do with your old one. Were the words ‘till death do us part’ just a suggestion to you? Marriage is a promise, a binding, lifelong commitment. Or were we just practice while you waited for your real family to start?”

Rosie stood rigid at Claire’s side, growling softly.

“No, Claire. I loved your mother, but we had our problems. Most of them were my fault. I was trying to make my way into the Bureau, so I was never home. I didn’t give our marriage the time it needed. And your mom had to stay at home with Charlie and never got to finish school. We fought almost every day, over all kinds of things, but especially money. I was so tired of the fighting. I sought solace outside of our marriage, and that’s on me. But don’t blame me for being gone all those years. I tried to be a part of your life.”

She paused. Was any of this the truth? She hadn’t inherited Alice’s psychic abilities, but she could tell a very uncomfortable conversation with her mother was coming.

“And how about after I turned eighteen? When I sent you an invitation to my wedding last year?”

Jack sighed. “It had been too long. I didn’t know what to say. I knew you wouldn’t believe me, that you assumed I was just some deadbeat who went out for a pack of smokes and never came back.”

“That is the prevailing narrative.” She crossed her arms rigidly in front of her.

“How is your mother?” he asked quietly.

“She’s good. She’s happy.”

“I’m glad. Listen, Claire. Tanya—my wife—would really like to have you over for dinner. She wants to meet you.”

Claire froze. Unbelievable. Dinner with the deadbeat and the home-wrecker. Who could turn down that invitation?

“And I’d like to talk more about this all in a more appropriate setting.” He gestured to the interrogation room.

There was probably a small battalion of cops on the other side of the glass, taking bets and passing tubs of popcorn. But that was the least of her worries.

“I’ll think about it. But I have a meeting to get to. Goodbye, Jack.” She hurried out of the room, Rosie following in her wake.

Claire plowed through the front door like she had stolen something. Her fists were clenched so tightly they hurt.

How dare he show up after a decade of absence and just expect her to welcome him with open arms? That dinner invitation had only been extended because Tanya had requested it. Not because Jack wanted to get to know his estranged daughter. Claire nearly banged her shin against a metal bench as she hustled to her car. With all the pent-up rage threatening to erupt, she was pretty sure she could have ripped it straight out of the concrete. She forced herself to breathe and hurried to her car, mouth clamped shut. The scream trapped in her throat would have shattered windows. Jack wasn’t worth the spike in her blood pressure.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

To Do:

- Buy another first aid kit

- Blog post on nontraditional engagement rings

“I don’t know how you do it,” Nicole said, carrying four tote bags over the threshold of Claire’s apartment.

“Do what?” Claire took the bags from her and set them on the bar. One tipped over, and a ream of coral-colored origami paper fell out.

She yawned so wide that it hurt. After her altercation with Jack the previous day, she had barely slept. Something about the abduction had left her untethered and uninhibited. She was yelling at authority figures, confronting someone who had been dead to her for twenty years. Lying to her ex-boyfriend. She barely recognized herself when she looked in the mirror.

“Deal with the freakin’ press all day,” Nicole said. “One of the reporters outside recognized me from the courthouse and asked how I knew you.”

Claire rolled her neck from side to side. She had tweaked it earlier when Sawyer had shown her how to climb into the driver’s seat from the passenger side to avoid suspicious vehicles. “I know. Things have gotten so much worse since word leaked about the copycat.”

“I’m going to find the bastard who told them and punch him right in the nuts.” Nicole began organizing the origami paper into neat stacks.

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