Whatever Remains (33 page)

             
Jeremy glanced up – the barest lift of lashes – with a long-suffering blankness to his face. “There’s more gumbo, if you want.” And gestured toward the pot on the stove; steam curled up toward the light.

             
“Homemade?”

             
“Of course.”

             
Ben found a bowl and spoon, and ladled up a portion. It was red and swimming with veggies and sausage. It smelled amazing. Like something out of a warped sitcom, he sat down across from his almost-kind-of-brother-in-law.

             
“I wanna take a walk around after this,” he said, shoveling in a bite.

             
“Take a walk around and look for what?”

             
Jeremy was one hell of a cook, Ben would give him that. He swallowed, cayenne clearing out his sinuses in a fiery rush. “Suspicious shit.”

             
There was a click of a spoon settling against the edge of a bowl and Jeremy sighed. “
What
are you doing?”

             
“Eating.”

             
“Why are you here?”

             
Ben forced himself to stop eating. Across the table, Jeremy was watching him with undisguised contempt. “Taking care of my kid while her mom’s in the hospital.”

             
“Stop acting thick.”

             
“Stop asking open-ended questions.”

             
After a moment’s tense stare-down, Jeremy said, “I thought we talked about your priorities.”

             
“Yeah, you and my mother both. Don’t worry your pretty little head about them,” Ben said with a nasty smile. “They’re in order. Why else would I be here?”

             
Jeremy shrugged and glanced away, visibly uncomfortable. “I don’t know. To torture me?”

             
“I don’t like you enough for that to be any fun.”

             
They finished eating in silence; on his way out of the kitchen, dog at his heels, Jeremy left the dishwasher door open as a not-so-subtle hint that housekeeping services wouldn’t be provided. Ben rinsed and stowed his bowl and spoon – he’d lived alone long enough to understand the value of pre-wash rinsing – and shrugged into his jacket. Armed with a flashlight and stainless .40 from his personal collection, he set off into the night.

             
The wind had a mind of its own. It ripped savagely at the trees; flattened the grass; it hissed, whistled, and moaned. Ben didn’t like it: he couldn’t hear anything. The shadows scattered and reformed, playing tricks on his eyes. Whatever he was searching for would be well-hidden.

             
He walked down the drive and made a lap around the barn. All the gates were latched; the horses dozed in their stalls, a few of them snapping awake at the sound of his footfalls. His flashlight beam raced across the grass, moving toward the mouth of the run where Jade had ridden her green horse that afternoon. The way looked sinister ringed by darkness like this. Dangerous. What had Jade been thinking? He walked up it, following the flattened trail the horse had left before him. Things with glowing blue eyes stared back at him, hunkered low in the stalks. Above the static flood of wind, he thought he heard an owl.

             
The perimeter fence was four black boards cutting between field and forest. Ben leaned against the top rail and did a slow pan through the trees with his light, flushing rabbits and what might have been a fox. The wind was louder here, all the leaves slapping together in one ceaseless crescendo of sound. He waited, eyes straining, for something to leap out at him. He searched in vain for a sign – of what, he didn’t know. He wanted to believe that Jade had an overactive imagination – that it had been rabbits and foxes that had spooked her horse – but he knew better. Believing
her
, instead of logic, set his internal compass spinning.

             
When the first tongue of lightning licked beneath the clouds, he headed back for the house. A few fat raindrops hit his forehead as he stepped through the backdoor and locked it behind him. The kitchen was dark, now – Jeremy had done a final cleanup – and the night was black beyond the windows. He stood for a long moment, watching the lightning draw closer, listening to the low murmur of thunder.

             
Jeremy came in silently. One moment Ben was alone, the next there was a reflection beside his own in the window. He started, glancing sideways at the guy. Jeremy was dressed for bed, hair smoothed back off his forehead, deep shadows etched between his brows. “I can’t help but think,” he said, “that something bad’s coming. Like Heidi was just the start.”

             
“That’s paranoid,” Ben said, facing through the window again. A white bolt tore over the tops of the trees, thunder chasing it. “But I think you’re right.”

22

“
Y
ou overslept?”

             
“Your bed’s too comfortable,” Ben said on the other end of the line. “Clara’s getting ready now. We’ll ditch the princess and pick you up in twenty minutes.”

             
Jade sighed as she disconnected the call. “He’s never going to be sensitive about Jeremy,” she said to her mother.

             
In the vinyl chair she’d slept in the night before – despite Jade’s insistence they find her a bed or recliner – Shannon lifted her brows in a look that said
really
? “Did you expect him to be?”

             
“No.”

             
“When will he be here?”

             
“Soon.” Shannon could have driven her home, but Ben had been adamant: he was picking her up that morning. Probably so he could grill the doctor.

             
Shannon, picking bits of grass off yesterday’s breeches while Jade fastened her bra into place, made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “Remind me again why he’s living with you now.”

             
“Oh, Mom.” The simple act of getting dressed was proving torturous for her taped-up ribs, and a lecture from her mom wasn’t going to make it any less painful. “He’s not
living
with me.”

             
“He’s not?” She handed over the breeches with another poor-put-upon-me face. “How many nights has he slept over?”

             
Jade winced and pretended it was thanks to the sharp grab in her side. “Three.”

             
“He’s sleeping in your bed?”

             
“Mom – ”

             
“Are you having sex with him?”

             
“Mom! That is
none
of your business.”

             
“It is too,” she argued. “I need to know just how nice I have to be to the asshole. If this is another…lapse in judgment – ”

             
“You have got to be kidding me.”

             
“ – that’s one thing. But if you’ve truly lost your mind…” She trailed off in the wake of Jade’s glare, but the defiance was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

             
To be twenty-eight and feel twelve: it was always going to be like this. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and sliding her legs into her breeches. “But I’m up to my armpits in people telling me what to do/think/feel about Ben.” She stood and tugged her riding pants all the way up into place. “He’s Clara’s dad. Don’t all of you
want
things to work out between us?”

             
No
, Shannon wanted to say: the hurtful evidence of the word whispered through the lines of her face. But she said, “I want you to be happy.”

             
Maybe I’m happy with him
, Jade thought.
Even if that doesn’t make any sense
.

             
“Jade?” someone said at the door. It was Alicia, and the sight of her was jarring. She was in pink scrubs with a sweater buttoned over them, hair coiled up on her head. She was working; she worked here. And yet, her appearance felt like a complete breach of privacy. Worse than that, it felt like an assault.

             
“What are you doing here?” Jade asked before politeness could kick in.

             
Alicia took a step back, thin brows scaling her forehead. “I-I work downstairs, in – ”

             
“Billing and coding, yeah, I know,” Jade snapped. “What are you doing here
in my room
?”

             
“I heard about your fall,” she said in a suffocated voice. “I wanted to come check on you.”

             
“If you were concerned.” Jade sounded like a bitch and couldn’t rein it in. “You wouldn’t have gotten Ben suspended. So kindly leave us all the hell alone.”

             
“Oh.” Alicia wrung her hands together, face pained. “I didn’t mean to get him in trouble. I swear I didn’t! I was so worried, though, that he wasn’t…well, that he wasn’t focused on catching whoever killed my Heidi. She got killed, Jade, and I only…I just…” Her eyes slicked over with tears and her lips tugged hard, a tremor surging through her frame.

             
Damn it. How was any fury justified in the face of a grieving mother?

             
“I panicked,” Alicia said. “I’m so sorry, Jade, but I
panicked
.”

             
It was Shannon – quick to rile and slow to warm – who feigned politeness. Later, Jade would be ashamed of herself, but for now, she was incensed on Ben’s behalf. “Alicia, I know this has all been terrible for you,” Shannon said. “But it might be better if you…” She waved a hand toward the door.”

             
Alicia nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said, once more, and left, shuffling slowly across the tiles.

             
When she was gone, Shannon put her sour face back on. “Good for you.”

             
“Good for me?” Jade sank down onto the edge of the bed, bending as little as possible. “I…I was horrible to her. The woman lost her
daughter
. And I keep – ”

             
“Hey, you have a daughter too. You have to look after your family; hers isn’t your responsibility. And insane with grief or not, that woman is screwing with your family.”

             
Jade snorted. “Five seconds ago you were wishing Ben would never show his face again. Now he’s family?”

             
“He’s your family,” she amended. “And Clara’s. Whether I like it or not.”

             
“That was amazingly mature.”

             
“Don’t get used to it.”

             
Ben arrived exactly nineteen minutes later – she knew because she stared at the clock for all of them – Clara solemn and pale-faced. She lingered at his side a moment, plastered to his leg. “Mommy?” she asked. She had Oatmeal under her chin. Ben had attempted to pull the front of her hair back at the crown, but pieces were coming loose and the barrette was crooked. It made Jade smile; Jeremy could have tied her hair up in two seconds – he had a cliché talent in that department, and plenty of practice – but Ben had done it himself. Later, when he was sleepy and possibly had some liquor in him, she’d have to ask how he liked playing Daddy. “Are you still hurt?”

             
“Oh, baby.” She extended both hands, hiding a wince. “I’m just a little beat up, but I’m okay. Come here.”

             
Clara sucked at her lower lip a moment…then bolted, darting across the room and into Jade’s offered hug. It hurt like a mother, but she forced a smile. “How are you this morning?”

             
Clara took a step back and grinned, the tension leaving her little body. “Good. Daddy said we could stop and get pancakes for breakfast.”

             
“He did?” She eyed Ben; he had his hands in his pockets, looking like six-feet-three-inches of man on a mission. This time, the mission was her.
I want it to stay like this
, she thought.
I want
you
to stay
. “Did you tell him your tummy hurts when you eat a bunch of sugar for breakfast?”

             
Clara sighed. “
No
.”

             
“Well, maybe just this once. Since he already promised.”

             
“You need to eat too,” Ben told her. “You look like shi…crap.”

             
“How sweet.”

             
“What about me?” Shannon asked. “Am I invited to the pancake charade?”

             
“Mom,” Jade groaned.

             
Ben gave her mother a flat look. “Sure.”

             
Shannon pretended to consider it a minute, chin lifting. “No, thanks, actually. I have to get my car out of the parking deck. In fact” – she made a show of pulling on her jacket and flicking invisible lint from the sleeve; the woman should have been on a stage somewhere – “I think I’ll head out. Leave the little family alone.”

             
“Mom,” Jade said. “Didn’t we just talk about this?”

             
“I don’t know what you mean.” She slung her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll come by the house later; make sure you’re resting. If that bitch stops by, tell Jeremy to boot her out. She shouldn’t be trying to guilt-trip you.”

             
Ben frowned. “What bitch?”

             
“Bitch?” Clara asked, and Jade put a hand on top of her small head, shaking her own.

             
“That’s a grown up word,” she said with serious eye contact. “Don’t say it again, okay?”

             
Clara nodded.

             
“Who are you talking about?” Ben asked.

             
“Alicia,” Shannon answered. “She came up here to try and wheedle some more sympathy out of your woman.”

             
“She heard about my fall,” Jade amended. Her head was pounding, and it had nothing to do with her concussion. “She wanted to check up on me.”

             
“And offer her
deepest
sympathies about your suspension,” Shannon said to Ben with an eye roll. “She’s just so sorry, you know. I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her.” She stepped to the door with a dramatic glance over her shoulder. “And that’s not far, let me tell you.”

             
Jade eased to her feet. It felt like a steak knife was lodged between her ribs; she had a kettle drum booming inside her skull, keeping time with her pulse. But the rest of her body was alive with little hurts too. Falling off a horse was a full-body experience. Every waking moment was a revelation in sensory experience. Her meds were wearing off. “We need to stop at the pharmacy on the way home. Maybe even before the pancakes.” When she glanced up at Ben for a reaction, she caught a fierce frown. “Or after, if you’re that hungry.”

             
He shook his head, his eyes latched onto hers, and fear shivered through her unbidden. “How’d Alicia know about your fall?” he asked.

             
She shrugged, and then regretted it. “She works here.”

             
“She’s not a doctor. She didn’t see your chart.”

             
The shiver spread; gooseflesh broke out down her arms.

             
“Did anyone call her? Run into her? Was Jeremy gossiping with her?”

             
“You’re talking,” she said with a shallow breath, “like I’m supposed to be worried.”

             
“You are,” he said grimly. “You two meet me out front. I’ve gotta check on something.”

**

HR was away from the bustle of the treatment floors, tucked into a quiet corridor with halfway decent impressionist art decorating the stock white walls. Ben hit the door at a ground-covering walk, official-looking, head up and eyes flat, wallet in hand.

              The receptionist gave him a cursory glance, and then did a double take. She was young, right out of school most like. That would be to his advantage. “Good afternoon,” she said, caught somewhere between polite and cautious. He had that cop look about him, and people always seemed to pick up on it. The truth was, though, that it was more his own personality than anything the force had stamped into him.

             
“Afternoon.” He opened his wallet to his ID with a fast, professional flourish, the same way he’d show his badge. “I’m with Cobb PD,” he said, and she didn’t seem surprised by that in the least. “Is your supervisor around?”

             
Without comment, she reached for the phone at her elbow, holding up a trembling finger:
one sec
.

             
The head of the department came out to meet him, in her crisp black pantsuit and sleek blonde bob, flats ringing on the tile. “Rachel Mullins,” she introduced herself with a firm handshake. “You’re one of the officers looking into Heidi Latham’s death?”

             
“Detective, actually,” he said with a nod. “And yes.” Somewhere, Rice was having a telekinetic coronary at the lie. “How’d you know?”

             
She started down the hall and waved for him to follow. “It’s all over the news,” she said over her shoulder. “And Alicia works here, you know.” She flashed an over-bright smile. “Which is why you’re here, I’d assume?”