Page 61 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“You seem a bit flummoxed.”

She blinked a couple of times. How long had she been standing there?

“Brent Salcito. We met at church Sunday.”

Right. The mayor. He’d been kind, even said something nice about Aspen’s mother.

Concern was etched in the lines around his eyes. “What do you need? Water? Maybe something to eat? We could go to The Patriot.”

But she’d see James there, and maybe others she knew. Worse, she might see people who’d known her mother.

Perhaps sensing her hesitation, Brent nodded toward the corner. “Let’s walk.” He led her around a corner and up a short street to the next block. There, she recognized the old house with the round sign hanging over the door.

“How about Cuppa Josie’s?” Brent said. “This time of day, it’s probably pretty empty.”

The thought of having a conversation with somebody who knew her mother as something other than a domestic terrorist sounded good to Aspen, so she nodded.

Brent kept his hand on her arm, a gentle touch she appreciated, for the two blocks to the coffee shop. Was he worried she’d collapse? She wasn’t usually so fragile.

As he’d guessed, the place wasn’t crowded. A clock in the shape of a teapot behind the counter told her it was not quite eleven o’clock. The woman there, a slender brunette with big brown eyes and long hair pulled back into a ponytail, nodded at Brent, then smiled at Aspen. “Good to see you again.”

Aspen had only been in the shop once, her first morning in town after she’d stayed in the hotel. The barista—or maybe she was the proprietor—had a good memory for faces. Aspen attempted a friendly expression despite the emotions roiling in her belly.

“Where is she?”

The words came from behind. Aspen spun to see an older woman. Based on the light gray hair and wrinkles, she was probably in her sixties, maybe older. Her arms were crossed over a dark gray velour tracksuit, her coal-dark eyes glaring.

“Nobody wants you here,” the woman said.

Aspen blinked. Everything in her wanted to shrink and disappear. But she hadn’t done anything wrong. Instead, she pushed her shoulders back. “I don’t believe we’ve met. You must have me confused with somebody else.”

“I know exactly who you are. Where’s your mother?”

Brent Salcito shifted beside her. “Now Rhonda, there’s no need to make a scene.”

The woman’s gaze barely flicked to the mayor. “Tell that to my nieces and nephew, who grew up without a mother because of her.”

Brent said, “Not because of?—”

“Who are you?” Aspen probably shouldn’t have cut him off, but after everything she’d just read, she understood this woman’s anger, even if it was misplaced.

“I’m one of her many victims. The day your mother blew up that building, I lost my sister. My twin. I want to know where she is. Now.”

“Truly, I have no idea. I have no memory of her.”

“Your father knows where she is. I don’t believe for one second that she didn’t go straight home that night. He hid her somewhere, and then, when the dust settled, he left town.”

“He didn’t know where she?—”

“That’s a lie. That’s why he’s been hiding out all this time. Disappeared, just like her. He probably stuck her in some mental institution. She might be crazy, but she needs to face her crimes.”

“My father didn’t hide out.” Aspen worked to keep her voice level, thanking God the coffee shop was nearly empty. The few patrons who were there had turned to watch the scene. “He simply moved away.”

“Where to, then? Where is he now? Why hasn’t he ever had the nerve to show his face here?”

“That’s quite enough,” Brent said. “Rhonda, you need to?—”

“She can answer the question.” Rhonda glared at Aspen. “Unless she has something to hide. Unless she knows exactly where her mother is.”

---