Page 45 of Bad Mother

“Yes, that kind of rage certainly makes sense given the circumstances,” Professor Vitucci confirmed. “The strangulation killings, however, do not denote quite the same amount of passion. Hatred, yes; passion, no. Generally speaking, stabbings are killings of passion, while strangulation is premeditated.”

Which aligned with Danny Boy’s story thus far.

Ingrid stood, walked to the front of the room, and shook Professor Vitucci’s hand as they each got up to thank him personally as well. Professor Vitucci bid them all goodbye, and Sienna sat back down, thinking over everything he’d said and going through the few notes she’d written. Something was racing in and out of the tunnels in her mind, but she couldn’t capture it. What she did know was that if what Professor Vitucci had said about this killer was correct, there would be more victims.

And as of right then, there was nothing they could do but wait for him to strike.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sienna swallowed, shifting on her feet as she pressed the buzzer. The home was lovely. A Mediterranean style with two tall palm trees flanking the start of the walkway, and more palms rising behind the house. Sienna hadn’t necessarily missed a lot about Reno, landscapewise, or at least she hadn’t realized she had, but she suddenly realized she’d missed the palm trees, somehow casually majestic—whether an oxymoron or not, to her, it fit.And the desert sunsets,she thought, tilting her head to the sky,like the one flaming above me right this moment.

This house, this street... it was exactly where she could picture Mirabelle.

The door was pulled open, and the woman herself stood there, an expectant look melting into surprise and then dissolving into tears as she squealed Sienna’s name, enveloping her in a lily of the valley–smelling bear hug.

Sienna let out a smothered laugh, holding the bottle of wine she’d brought to the side so it wouldn’t get crushed between them. In the momentary glimpse she’d gotten, she’d seen that Mirabelle remained beautiful, her blonde hair streaked with white but still in the same upswept style she’d always worn, her figure still trim.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Mirabelle said, pulling away and bringing her hands to Sienna’s cheeks and holding them gently. “Oh, my sweet girl. When Gavin told me you were back in town, I almost keeled over with happiness. Well, come in, oh.” Despite her invitation, she enveloped Sienna in another hug, not allowing her to move for a moment before again pulling away. “Gosh, you’re gorgeous. Look at you. You always were a beauty, but now, oh goodness, you must think I’m a mess with makeup running down my face.” She swiped at the slight black smudges under her eyes, taking Sienna by the hand.

“Hi, Mirabelle,” Sienna said, and she heard the unshed tears in her voice as a flood of comfort and the love she’d always felt for Gavin’s mother overwhelmed her. God, she’d missed her so much.

Mirabelle turned, and Sienna looked up to see Gavin leaning casually in a doorway beyond, watching them, a gentle smile on his lips. Their eyes met, and he tipped his chin. “Glad you could make it,” he said.

She gave him a slight smile in return, her gaze going to the photographs on the wall, the same ones Mirabelle had displayed in her mobile home so many years ago. Sienna’s eight-year-old gap-toothed smile. Gavin performing in a play at school. Both of their graduation photos. She swallowed. Mirabelle had kept them up. All these years. And though the ones of Sienna and Gavin together as a couple were now gone, the ones that spoke of Mirabelle considering Sienna a long-lost yet still-loved daughter remained.

“Come in and let me get you a drink. We have so much catching up to do, don’t we? Let me take that,” she said, taking the bottle of cabernet from Sienna as they entered a spacious kitchen with creamy cabinets, white marble countertops, and a pearlescent tile backsplash. All the shades of white somehow blended beautifully and made the whole space feel both fresh and warm.

And underneath whatever delicious dish was baking in the oven, Sienna smelled the clean scent of lemon. Through the sliding glassdoors, pool water sparkled, large rocks forming a waterfall that splashed and gurgled, emerald-green grass surrounding it, as well as those tall palms she’d seen from the front. “Oh, Mirabelle, it’s just beautiful,” she breathed, looking around. “You deserve this, every bit of it.”

“Oh, I don’t know that I deserve any of it, but that son of mine keeps spoiling me.”

“I keep trying,” Gavin said. He was handsome in a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, rolled up to his elbows, strong forearms showing as he raised the glass of whatever amber-colored liquor he was drinking and took a small sip. “But she still won’t let me buy her a car.”

Mirabelle batted her hand in the air. “I don’t need a car. Argus drives me where I need to go, or I take the bus. It’s where I get my spicy romance reading in,” she said and gave a small shimmy that made Sienna laugh.

Gavin gave an obviously fake grimace that then turned into a grin as he walked to a drawer, where he pulled out a wine opener.

Mirabelle gestured to a seat at the counter, and Sienna sat down. “Tell me aboutyou,” she said to Sienna. “You’ve taken a job here, so I assume you’re back to stay?”

Sienna shifted her gaze away from Mirabelle’s hopeful expression. “Probably not for the long term, but for the next year anyway. I... I’m with someone who still lives in New York.”

“Oh,” Mirabelle said, a line forming between her brows. “I see,” she said, shooting a quick worried glance at Gavin, who was still opening the wine. But she brought forth a smile, reaching over and squeezing Sienna’s hands. “We’ll take what we can get. I’vemissedyou,” she said, and it made Sienna want to cry again because she could see the deep sincerity in her expression.

“I’ve missed you, too, Mirabelle. So much.” Her voice hitched, and she was again overwhelmed by the same emotion that had flooded her by the door. Footsteps coming toward the kitchen saved her from anembarrassing display of tears, and when she saw who it was, she sprang up, a small sound of happiness on her lips. “Argus!”

“Sienna?”

She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the older man. Oh, he had aged. She obviously wasn’t going to say it, but she noticed, and it broke her heart because it reminded her how many years she’d missed. She squeezed him tightly.I’m sorry, Argus. So sorry I let so much time slip away.

No matter when I leave Reno, no matter what happens with my life and my career, I will never lose touch again,she swore silently. She let go of him and he stepped back, holding on to her upper arms as he studied her, his gaze filled with the same love and tenderness that had always been there. “Well, now, you look just fine, Siennoulla. But still too skinny.” She laughed, her heart squeezing at the endearment. His hair was more gray than black, though it was still thick and shiny, and his mustache was dotted salt and pepper too. Wrinkles fanned out around his eyes, creasing his olive-toned skin, but he was still tall and broad shouldered. And he still had the same sparkle in his eye, the same warmth in his laughter, and the same strength in that booming voice of his.

“That’s why I’m here,” she said. “So you can fatten me up.”

“Ah! Good then. It will take lots of time and many meals, so I am happy!” He reached up, making a familiar gesture as he brushed over the edge of her ear, pulled his hand back, and opened his palm. In it sat a shiny silver dollar, and Sienna’s heart constricted tightly at the trick that had always delighted her as a child. “For my girl. I held on to it all this time because I knew you’d be back,” he said softly.

Sienna swiped at the tears gathering in her eyes but laughed, hugging Argus again. She wanted to cry because she’d been troubled and sleepless ever since she’d arrived in Reno, and she suddenly realized that part of the reason was because she’d had no safe outlet, no people of her own to turn her mind toward, ones who provided both strength andcomfort and allowed her to digest and deal with the myriad horrors her job brought forth. It had only been ten minutes since she’d walked in the front door, but it was a ten-minute reprieve to turn her mind away from brutal crime and unpaid punishment, and she already felt more centered.

Gavin came up next to them and handed her a glass of red, smiling as she took it. Their fingers brushed, and she felt the small charge between them and turned away as she took a sip, telling herself it was the wine that was causing the heated flush.

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