Page 20 of Cold Vengeance

“Yep.”

It was River’s turn to laugh. “Side effects of the job. I’ll see you about seven-thirty?”

“I’ll be there.”

River disconnected the call. Training as a behavioral analyst came with certain side benefits. Or maybe disadvantages. Being able to interpret physical reactions was a blessing since they could tell if someone was lying to them. But watching to see if people yawned when another person did was ... nuts. Yet, it was a known fact that most of the time psychopaths didn’t yawn in response to the same reaction in someone else. They lacked empathy—couldn’t connect to other people. It worked with emotional responses as well, like crying or laughing. Some psychopaths learned to laugh or pretend to cry. But it was much harder to pretend to yawn.

River got up from the desk in her bedroom and went to her mother’s room. She knocked softly on the door.

“Come in.” She could barely hear her mother’s thin, thready voice. Sometimes it felt as if everything about Rose Ryland was slowly disappearing. Her memory, her voice, and even her body. Rose was naturally thin, but lately her cheekbones had become more pronounced, accenting her Vietnamese features. Her mother had always been a beautiful woman, but even though her dark hair was peppered with silver, age had only given her a more ethereal look. As if she were closer to heaven than anyone around her.

River opened the door and found her mother in bed, her small TV turned on. She picked up the remote and turned down the sound. There were two bookshelves in her room. Rose had always loved to read, but River couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a book in her mother’s hands. Was it because the words nolonger made sense? Although River had an urge to ask her about it, she had a feeling the answer might break both their hearts.

“Mrs. Weyland said you wanted me to say good night,” she said.

“Yes, dear.” Rose patted the bed next to her.

For a moment, River was stunned. She couldn’t remember her mother ever asking her to sit on her bed. Even when River was a child. Rose was always concerned she would mess up the covers.

She walked over and gingerly lowered herself next to her mother.

“You need to get some sleep,tình yêu. Why are you up so late?”

River was surprised to hear her mother use a Vietnamese term that meantlove. Rose had called hertình yêuwhen she was very young. But not after her father left. She forced herself to respond to her mother’s question.

“Just trying to get some work done,” she said. “I’ll go to sleep soon.”

“Good. You need to get plenty of rest before school tomorrow.”

River opened her mouth to remind her mother that she wasn’t in school any longer, but then she remembered Mrs. Weyland’s admonition not to correct Rose when she was confused.

Just go with her wherever she is,she’d said.If you try to straighten her out, it will confuse andfrighten her.

“You’re right,” River said, fighting back sudden tears. “I’d better get back to bed,Má.” It felt odd in one sense to use the Vietnamese term formother,but River was certain that in this moment it was exactly the right thing to do.

Rose leaned over and took River’s face in her hands. Then she kissed her forehead. “Don’t forget your prayers. I love you.”

“I love you too.” River left the room, shutting the door behind her. Then she hurried to her bedroom, closed the door, leaned up against it, and slowly sank to the floor, where she covered her face with her hands and cried until her tears finally stopped.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

When the alarm went off at six-thirty, River reached over and turned it off. She wasn’t asleep. In fact, she hadn’t slept much at all. Her mind kept going back and forth from the information in April’s notebook to what had occurred with her mother. She forced herself to dismiss her thoughts and concentrate on getting ready to meet Tony. She headed down the hall to the kitchen to start the coffeemaker before getting dressed. She was surprised to find Mrs. Weyland already there. She usually got up around eight.

“Why are you awake?” she asked. “Did my mother have a tough night?” From time to time, Rose had restless nights and Mrs. Weyland would go in to check on her, but when it happened, River almost always heard them. Last night the house was quiet.

“No, but I knew you were gettin’ up early. I wanted to make sure you had coffee and ate somethin’. Goin’ out without breakfast isn’t good for you.” She carried a dish over to the table that held bacon, a cheese omelet, and toast.

“You really didn’t need to do this.”

“I heard you tossin’ and turnin’ last night. You need to eat.”

River laughed softly. “First of all, I don’t think it’s possible to hear someone tossing and turning from two doors down. And besides that, I’m not sure food will make it better anyway.”

The elderly woman put her hands on her ample hips and stared at River. “No arguin’ this mornin’, missy.” She pointed at the table. “You sit down and eat this breakfast I fixed for you.”

River wasn’t used to being ordered around. If it had been anyone else, she probably would have mentioned that Mrs. Weyland wasn’t actually her boss. In fact, it was the other way around. But she knew in her heart that this lovely woman, this incredible blessing in her life and in her mother’s, was truly concerned for her. Rather than getting angry, she was moved by it.

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