Page 74 of Family Affair
Chapter 17
Coco emerged from the bushes like a butterfly emerging from her protective cocoon. Only instead of wings, a portable easel flapped at her back, and she was frantically scratching her neck where multiple bugs managed to bite her despite a heavy application of Deet. Well, maybe not exactly like a butterfly, but close. She needed positive reinforcement.
Thisplein airsession was one of the most productive she had accomplished in a long time. She completed a nice large oil-on-canvas depicting the state park’s very pretty lake, and started several smaller versions to be finalized later at home. The morning sunlight had been soft and mellow, and the sloping lakeshore had afforded an unobstructed view of the beautiful nature.
All in all, a successful session. Yet Coco was plagued with a vague feeling of dissatisfaction.
Apart from adding something new to her portfolio to share with Rosa, the solitary activity had provided an ample opportunity for self reflection. The humid air of the woods, replete with the smell of rotting vegetation, brought forth various truths.
She fell out of love with Dan. Or maybe she had been lying to herself all this time, for she had never felt toward Dan what she felt toward Cade.
Cade. So much a Sheffield, so much his own man. She had only begun to explore the complicated personality that for whatever reason he worked so hard do conceal. He hadn’t given her a chance to explore it fully before he was gone from her life.
How to express what she felt? How to calm her emotional tempest?
The forest offered no answer.
She sighed, hefting the heavy easel, and paused to absorb the tranquility of the park before heading to town.
In the solitude of the unpaved parking area, the lone grey-suited figure of a man looked like a bad case of Photoshop. He stood with hands in pockets next to a beige sedan, as rigid and unyielding as a monument.
She glanced around wondering what could have brought such an official looking character to this neck of the woods. A bird watcher?
The man moved toward her. “Good morning. Miss Milroy, I presume?”
Coco’s heart dropped. An official looking man… An unmarked car…
Confirming her suspicion, he deftly produced a badge. “Detective Willis. Here to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
“My mother? Lucy? Is she all right?” she croaked, her heart now hammering in frantic alarm.
“What?” he frowned briefly before smoothing out his features again, “Oh, yes, as far as I know. Forgive me for giving you a wrong impression. It’s not about your mother.”
Heart rate still brisk from her fright, Coco was now all business. “Sorry, I assumed the worst. I didn’t expect a visitor to come here.” She indicated the total isolation of the place. His badge said Atlanta PD, a long drive away from the park. And how did he know where to find her?
“Understandable. But I did get in touch with your mother to track you down,” he explained.
“I see. You have my attention, Detective. Are you going to question me right here?”
Detective Willis wrinkled his nose. “Not question, no. Let’s call it a friendly conversation. To be honest, we desperately need all the information we can get, and you are in a position to tremendously help our investigation.” His phony friendliness went at odds with the detective’s stony face and formal attire.
Despite the disparity, he managed to intrigue her. If nothing else, this conversation may help take her mind off the Sheffields.
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you. There’s a coffee place a few miles down the interstate. I suggest we go there. This isn’t a very comfortable locale.” It was stifling hot, and several hungry bugs were orbiting the detective’s head, ready to land. “Please follow me.”
They got into their respective cars and drove to their destination. At the coffee house, Coco decided she deserved a splurge, and ordered a large iced concoction that was mostly coffee and an equally large muffin that was mostly sugar.
“Go on, ask you questions, Mr. Willis,” she urged him around a mouthful of muffin.
He gave her choice of brunch a glance of poorly veiled contempt. “Go on, finish your… treat.” He took a sip of his coffee – straight black, small cup, nothing to go with it. She gazed at him, taking note of his trim form.
A health nut, she decided. A granola-eating, bicycle-riding fitness fanatic.
Despite her baseless dislike of Willis, Coco was brimming with the need to break the suspense. What was this all about? She sucked from her straw, thinking that she was guaranteed a nice sugar high from her meal.
“If you insist,” Willis quickly changed his mind. “Have you heard about the killing of Reverend Ward Williamson?”
