Page 29 of Deja New
“You make it sound like I don’t care.”
Because you don’t.
“Of course I care.”
Nope.
“But how long until you let this go?” Mom paused, like Angela actually had a time period in mind. Like she’d jump inwith,I thought I’d give it another three years and seventy-eight days, and if I don’t have it solved by then, I’ll hang it up forever.“It’s been a decade.”
“Mom, I could understand your mind-set if it was one you had gradually come around to. But you’ve never liked me looking into Dad’s murder.” It was almost as if her mother knew more than she had told back in the day. Not guilty knowledge, exactly, but...
Wait. Why assume she doesn’t have guilty knowledge? I’ve never understood her paralyzing grief. What if she had something to do with Dad’s murder? What if it’s not grief, but guilt?
Ridiculous. The woman had problems, but ascribing guilt was a big step too far.
Meanwhile, Mom’s brows had rushed together and she nearly shouted, “Because you were a child!”
“Yes. But I wasn’t for long. We all grew up pretty fast.” Unspoken:We had to, because you fell apart. You know who paid for that robe, right?“After a while—and not a long while—I wasn’t a child. I was a pissed-off young adult looking for answers and you still did everything you could to discourage me.”
In response, a mutter: “Obviously not everything.”
“And it’s not just me.” Here was a conversation they should have had years ago. Oh, well, no time like the present.This’ll teach her to hover in my office doorway.“You’ve always been opposed to anyone researching the case, discussing the case,thinkingabout the case.”
“That’s not—”
“No. No denial this time. Let’s try something different, okay? Just for fun. No denial!” Angela realized she was rocking back and forth in her agitation.God, this ergonomic chair was the best giftto myself.“Hell, when I was in college, my prof offered extra credit to anyone who wanted to help me. He was goddamned enchanted by Dad’s murder and loved that I was working a ‘real-world scenario.’ And, yes, he was an insensitive boob, but half my floor took him up on it—free labor and a bunch of fresh eyes and you werestillagainst it.”
“That’s not what college is for! It’s for drinking too much and learning new things and making terrible decisions about your sexuality but coming to your senses in time for graduation!”
“I... Wow.”Where? Where to even start?“If it’s any consolation, I did all that other stuff, too.”Oh, my God. I did not just tell her that.
Mom’s hand froze mid-fiddle. “Oh. Well. Good for you, then.”
I visited my imprisoned uncle in the company of the Andretti of Insighters and a detective wearing Van Gogh’sSunflowersocks and this isstillthe most surreal conversation I’ve had today.
“Mom, something I’ve always wondered.”Bad idea. No, good idea. No, terrible idea. Fuck it.“Why do you care? This...” She gestured to the files, the boxed files in the corner, the entirety of the office, which wasn’t a shrine to her father butwasHQ for catching his killer. “All of this, it doesn’t affect or alter your life at all. Whether I’m working on Dad’s case or writing a brief for Judge Shepherd, your day-to-day routine is exactly the same. So what’s the problem?”
Her mother stared. “You really don’t know?”
“I really don’t know.”
A long sigh, followed by, “The problem is, I don’t want to see my daughter throw her life away like—” She cut herself off, so quickly Angela heard her teeth click together.
“Like my uncle?” she asked quietly.
“It should have been him.”
As a revelation, this wasn’t exactly shocking. Emma Drake had not kept that concept to herself. “But it wasn’t. So we had to deal. Have to deal. I understand why you’ve never visited Uncle Dennis—”
A bark of laughter, quickly choked off. “Figured that out, did you?”
“Yes.”This is the longest conversation we’ve had since Paul accidentally sent us all to the emergency room. Soooo many forms. The paperwork was worse than the stitches.
To Angela’s alarm, her mother took another step into the office. “Okay. I’ll reiterate, so there’s no misunderstanding going forward. It should have been your uncle—”
“There’s—”
“—bleeding out on that filthy floor—”
