Page 35 of Bad Mother

Sienna started her car before pulling out of the mostly empty parking lot, giving a small salute to the officer who stood next to his patrol car near the entrance. She turned on her phone and saw that she had several missed calls.

Brandon.

He’d called her earlier in the day, too, but she’d been busy solving riddles and seeking out hole-in-the-wall record shops. It was almost 1:00 a.m. in New York, but Brandon was a night owl, and his last call had been ten minutes before, so she pressed his speed dial.

“Hey, stranger,” he answered.

Irritation fizzled through her, and she didn’t even know exactly why. It was like she felt pissed off that he was guilt-tripping her about not checking in, which was ridiculous and unfair on her part. He missed her; that was all. Didn’t she want him to miss her? This case was just making her tired and irritable. She rubbed at her eye as she came to astop at a red light. “Sorry I haven’t called until now,” she said, making it a point to insert gentleness into her tone. “It’s been a wild day, and I’m just leaving a scene.”

“A scene? You mean a murder scene?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. It looks like our gamer has struck again.”

“Aw, jeez, babe. I was hoping this job in Reno would be a break from the regular murder and mayhem you saw on the streets of New York City.”

“Unfortunately, there aren’t many places one can go to avoid some amount of murder and mayhem these days.”

“You’re probably right. Hey, I’m wrapping up a few cases early next week and will probably be able to take a few days off. How about I fly out for a couple days? You can show me the lay of the land.”

“I’d love that, Bran, but I don’t know if next week is great for me. It seems like this case just keeps ramping up, and I’d hate for you to get here and me have to work the whole time. Things are kind of... unpredictable right now, and Reno PD is short staffed. It’s why I’ve been thrown right into the fray. Which... I haven’t actually minded. It’s made the adjustment a little easier.”

Brandon sighed. “This sucks, Sienna. I miss you. This feels all wrong.”

“I know. I miss you too. But remember what we said? One year. This is a temporary pit stop before we get settled somewhere permanently, right? And Brandon, I already think I’m making a difference here, you know? I’ve been in Reno less than two weeks, and I’m already part of this team. They’ve welcomed me, and I’ve earned their trust. It’s... well, it’s what I didn’t know I needed,” she finished softly.

“You deserve that.” So why did he sound annoyed, as though he’d made too many concessions regarding what she “deserved”?

Sienna pulled onto her quiet street, the moon bright overhead, the flickering lights from televisions glowing softly inside the homes shepassed. “Thanks, Bran. Hey, I’m almost home, and I’m exhausted. I’m going to face-plant into my pillow. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“I wish I was there to crawl into bed with you.”

“Me too. Soon. Sleep well, okay?”

“Okay. Good night.” She’d noticed that he’d stopped telling her he loved her right about the time she’d told him she was considering taking the offer in Reno. Why hadn’t she brought it up to him?Shouldn’t it matter to you more?

Sienna hung up the phone and sat in her car for a few minutes, feeling tired but edgy and oddly emotional.What is wrong with you?Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. And wouldn’t that be par for the course? Her whole life had been upended. She was on the other side of the country from the man she was supposedly planning on spending the rest of her life with. She’d practically had to slink out of town in shame or be fired. She’d been thrown for a loop with this case. And now she was going to enter her quiet condo alone, where there were only boxes to sit upon.

And she didn’t havetime, nor was it appropriate, for a personal pity party when she had just left a second murder scene.

Even so, she sat there for a few minutes, her head falling back on the headrest, the quiet night sounds around her barely penetrating the glass of her windows. Crickets, the distant bark of a dog, then another, a car driving by a street or two over.

She reached inside her purse and brought out the sticky Gavin had written Mirabelle’s address on, flicking it lightly between her fingers. The small, square piece of paper was the same color and size as the sticky note from the record store with the row of numbers. Just random, of course. It had to be. So... why did she feel like nothing this suspect did was random? He was messing with her mind. How in the world would he know that Gavin had given her a green sticky? He wouldn’t. They were a dime a dozen. You could buy a sticky pad at any drug, grocery, oroffice store in town. And they were on every other desk across America. She let out a quiet groan, dropping the address back in her purse.

She got out of the car, greeting the cactus she’d become strangely attached to. It wasn’t lewd, she decided. It was pretty and unique. The poor thing shouldn’t be faulted just because she had a dirty mind. She trudged to her condo and locked the door behind her.

Her purse and briefcase landed on the floor, and she grabbed a bottle of water from the still-barren refrigerator and drank half of it before setting it on the counter. The details of the case rustled through her mind, making her feel restless, frustrated. Visions of cards and notes and knife-wielding psycho mothers swirled in her brain. She should make time to buy a television and get immersed in some series or another, do something other than ponder this case and the clues that might be hidden in the words of some nut. Her brain was working overtime, and suddenly it felt likeeverythingmight be a clue if paired with the right combo of words or phrases or items or locations. Maybe they were all just pieces on some cosmic game board, being moved at the whim of a divine game master. Hadn’t “Mother” said something similar? The whole concept was depressing, but in her heart of hearts she didn’t really believe it. She rubbed her temples. Yes, the mindlessness of Netflix would do wonders. Or maybe some evening, she’d go to a park or a lake and sit and stare at the water the way she and Gavin used to do as they watched Otis and Odette gliding elegantly across the water. And suddenly Sienna found herself sitting on the carpeted floor in the front room where she’d eaten pizza with Gavin, doing a Google search.

“You bastard,” she muttered a few minutes later, scrolling to his number.

“Sienna?” he answered smoothly. She could hear noise, dings, and laughter in the background. He was either still at work or enjoying a social gathering.

“You lied,” she accused.

The noise grew faint, as though he’d gone into another room and shut the door behind him. “Excuse me?”

“About Odette.”

There was a small pause, and then she heard him sigh softly. “I didn’t lie—”

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