Page 26 of Bad Mother

She barely held back the flinch but knew she’d failed to disguise the pain in her eyes.

“She misses you, Si,” he said gently. And there was thatSiagain. She wanted to tell him to stop calling her that but didn’t know how to without sounding petty. It didn’t sound calculated, just like old habit, so she let it go. The better solution was to wrap up this case and never spend another moment with him. Never look into his eyes. Never hear him call herSiagain—or anything else for that matter. And why did that fleeting thought cause even more conflicting emotions to pummel her? And why did that only happen around Gavin and no one else?

“I miss her too,” she admitted, because it was true and suddenly the truth just felt easier than trying to lie when he—at least partially—still saw right through her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and her eyes met his, widening because she was surprised by the words. “I’m sorry for a lot, Si, but mostly I’m sorry that you lost Mirabelle.”

Sienna made a small pained sound but shook her head. “That part wasn’t your doing. It was my fault. I should have kept in touch,” she said. “At first, though... it was better for me to cut all ties.” She picked at the edge of her water bottle label. “Then later, when I’d settled into my new life in New York, when I had found happiness... moved on... it felt like contacting her—oh, I don’t know—might set me back, I guess.” Maybe she’d even worried it would nullify her happiness completely and she’d be right back to square one, the same spot she’d been in the day she’d knocked on Mirabelle’s trailer door in a rented, dirt-stained wedding dress. Sienna shook her head. “I’d be tempted to ask about you... and I really didn’t want to know...” Except she had. She had. And that had really been the problem. She let out a small laugh that held little amusement. “So I just left my life here completely behind.”

They were both silent for a few moments, the space between them full of the words that had never been said, the regret they both might carry, though Sienna didn’t necessarily want to get into the nitty-gritty of that. There was no real purpose, was there? They’d both moved on. She was practically engaged, and though fate had brought them back together, it was of a temporary nature.

Perhaps a small part of her really had never moved on, despite what she’d just told him.Perhaps, if she was going to credit fate for their reunion, the cosmic purpose—for her anyway—was so that she might work that final piece of him completely from her system. It proved to her that she could spend time with Gavin without melting into a pile of emotional goo; she could even dredge up the past and admit oldhurts and still sleep peacefully that night. And then, when their time together came to a natural conclusion because her case was solved, she could go on her merry way and know that Gavin Decker no longer held any portion of her heart.

She wanted that.

Brandon deserved it.So do I.

“So,” Gavin said after a short pause, and she saw the teasing glint in his eye as he tilted his head and peered at her, “you never looked me up? Not once in eleven years?” He asked the question to ease the tension, she knew, or perhaps to rile her up a bit, and both worked, which caused her to laugh softly.

“My God, you’re still conceited, aren’t you?”

He laughed too. “I was never conceited.”

“You were. Totally full of yourself. I can’t imagine thefan clubhelped in that regard.”

They both grinned, and for a weighted moment they stared at each other, their smiles fading in tandem. “In all honesty, I did look you up,” Sienna admitted with a shrug and a wave of her hand. “You know, years later. I was proud of you. Happy.” And that was the truth, though it had hurt too.

She stood before he could respond, holding her hand out for his empty water bottle. He handed it to her, and she walked to the kitchen and threw out the trash. When she returned, he was standing. “You’re tired. I should go.”

She nodded. She’d been exhausted before she had arrived home, and she was even more exhausted now, butnowit was more than just the physical variety. “Thanks for the dinner. As you saw, the cupboards are basically bare. I would have probably ended up eating spoonfuls of baking soda for dinner.” Or ordering something that she wouldn’t have stayed awake long enough to eat.

“It never has to get to that level of desperation. I’m always good for a pizza delivery when and if you need one.”

There was an awkward pause, and then he moved toward the door and pulled it open.

“Gavin, wait,” she said, and he turned quickly, a look she could only call anticipatory on his face. “Are you available tomorrow if we have some questions regarding that note we found today?”

A flicker of expression, but very brief and unreadable. “Absolutely.” He smiled, turning away again and calling over his shoulder, “You have my number.”

Sienna closed the door and engaged the lock before heading straight for the shower. She was beyond tired, so why did she have a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t going to be able to sleep?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sienna looked up as Kat burst into Ingrid’s office, shaking something in her hand. “The closet,” she said.

“And a good morning to you, Kat,” Ingrid said sarcastically.

Kat gave her a glance accompanied by a fleeting smile as she took the seat next to Sienna. “Did you catch her up?”

Sienna had only arrived about twenty minutes before, and although she and Kat had given Ingrid the gist of what had been discovered at the abandoned house, Sienna had gone through the photos of the evidence, and Ingrid had taken a few minutes to read the latest installment of the note. “I’m up to speed,” Ingrid confirmed.

“Okay, good. Listen, I called the criminalists who are at the house where we found the letter last night and asked them to check under the floorboards in all the closets.”

Sienna’s brow lowered. “The floorboards—” Her eyes opened wider with understanding. “The floorboards in the closet where he said he hid his games from his father.”

“Yes,” Kat said excitedly. “That seemed very specific, right? Something was nagging at me, and so I put on Rachmaninoff in the car on my way here—Piano Concerto Number Two in C Minor does it every time.” She positioned her fingers in the air and moved them dramatically, as if playing the piano while simultaneously using her voice to “sing” the melody, before Ingrid interrupted her.

“Kat, what on earth are you on?”

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