Ruthless Cross Page 5

  Arthur had talked far more often about Olivia than about his first wife Francine, but perhaps that was out of respect for Juliette. He hadn't wanted her to feel like she was second.

  "Do you want more eggs?" Flynn asked, drawing her attention back to him.

  Her stomach clenched as their eyes met. He really was an attractive man. He must have loved a lot of other women since Olivia. He wasn't wearing a ring, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Still, she wished she knew as much about him as he apparently knew about her. But then, she didn't have the resources of the FBI to investigate. She could do an internet search, but she doubted an agent would ever leave information online that wasn't completely meaningless.

  "Callie?"

  She realized she had yet to answer his question. "No, I'm fine. Thank you for cooking."

  "I was being selfish. I was hungry."

  "Do you always make meals for yourself when you're interrogating a witness?"

  "I made an exception for you."

  There was that sexy smile again. She had to fight the impulse to smile back, reminding herself she had nothing to smile about.

  "Now that I know what you're afraid of, why don't you let me help you?" he suggested. "Talk to me about your concerns."

  "I'm concerned that my mother is overwhelmed with grief."

  "You're concerned," he said pointedly, "that your mother might have had something to do with Arthur's death."

  Her breath caught in her chest at his blunt words. "My mom is the sweetest, kindest, nicest person you could ever meet. If anything, she's a pushover. She's not a killer."

  "But she has problems with depression and anxiety."

  "Half the people in the world suffer with similar problems. She's been fine the last few years. She has been happy." That was partly why she'd been against her mom's whirlwind love affair with Arthur. When her mom was in love, she tended to lose grip on her other emotions. She became less interested in her own mental health and more interested in making a man feel good.

  "She was first hospitalized after your father died, right?"

  "I can't believe that there's an FBI file on my mother," said, amazed by that fact.

  "My team worked all night compiling information on the people most closely connected to Arthur. Your mom is at the top of that list. And you didn't answer the question."

  "Yes. She had a breakdown after my father died. She felt responsible because she was driving the car when they skidded in the rain and crashed into a tree."

  "I'm sorry."

  "It was a very difficult time. My dad was a great guy. He was always smiling and laughing. He was my biggest cheerleader. I used to play softball, and I'd hear his voice over everyone else's. He'd always shout, 'You can do it, Callie.' It's been eighteen years, but I can still hear him saying that." She felt a wave of sadness, because she hadn't just lost her father that day; she'd lost her mother, too, for a very long time.

  "He sounds like a great dad."

  "He was the center of our family universe, our anchor. He grounded us, especially my mother. She's very creative, very dreamy. She has big ideas but often no practical application. When I was young, she'd get lost in whatever new project had caught her interest, whether it was crocheting a blanket, or painting a vase of flowers, or practicing yoga. My dad would come home from work and have to run to the store to get us food for dinner. He always did what had to be done, and after he died, my mom fell apart. She'd always been fragile, but without her anchor, she was lost."

  "So, you stepped up—at the age of ten."

  "I tried. I instinctively knew that she needed me to do what my dad used to do. My aunt was around then, too. My mom's sister, Diane, helped us a lot, especially the first several years. But then she got a job in New York and had to move away when I was thirteen. My mom was better for the next few years. She'd still have some depression every now and then, but she was significantly improved."

  "How long did that last?"

  "She had a bad spell when I was in high school. But then she recovered. She's a fragile person. But she's not a killer."

  "Then why are you worried?"

  "Because she was arguing with Arthur right before he died. And when people hear that she's had some mental health issues, they look at her differently. You've been suspicious of her from the start, and now I'm sure you're even more so after what you just saw upstairs."

  "And from what I heard. She said she's responsible for his death."

  "She didn't mean that she killed him. She probably just feels guilty because she argued with him." She took a breath. "You asked me about an affair. I don't believe he was having one, but my mom did say a few times that she didn't like the way he flirted with other women, but I think it was just his manner. I told her that, but she didn't seem convinced. She has a high level of anxiety that takes her to the worst-case scenario in ten seconds flat. Arthur could have smiled at someone, and my mother would have assumed the worst. She's not an easy person to love sometimes."

  He gave her a long, thoughtful look. "You're having a rough day, aren't you, Callie?"

  For some reason, his kind words brought an unexpected rush of tears to her eyes. She hadn't cried at all since Arthur had plummeted to his death, but now she felt a tidal wave coming. "Don't be nice," she said, shaking her head, grimly hanging on to her emotions. "I can't take it."

  "I think you need someone to be nice."

  "Well, not you. I can't trust you."

  "You actually can."

  "I need to know more about you. Tell me about your relationship with Arthur. I know you dated Olivia, but what's the bigger story?"

  Flynn frowned at her question, and she liked the fact that he was suddenly the one who didn't want to talk.

  "If you want me to trust you, then you need to open up," she added.

  "All right." He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then pushed his empty plate away as he rested his arms on the counter. "I met Olivia my senior year of high school. We had our first date at the winter formal and we spent almost every minute together from January to June. After graduation, we planned on moving to Santa Barbara. She'd gotten into the university there, and I, well, I didn't have the best GPA, so I was going to go to the community college. But, as you know, she and her mom went on a trip. It was Olivia's graduation present. On a ferry crossing in the Greek islands, there was an accident, and five people drowned. Olivia and Francine were two of them."

  His voice was stoic, but she could see the pain in his eyes. "I am sorry."

  "Olivia had so much potential, so much promise. She was smart and ambitious and wanted to be independent. She railed against Arthur's controlling personality. That's one reason why she wanted to move away to school. She wanted a little distance from him, but she loved him, too."

  "He loved her as well. When he told me about her, he got choked up. And he made it clear to me that her room was off-limits. He said he goes in there sometimes because it's the only place where he still feels close to her." She paused. "Did you go upstairs while I was dealing with my mother? Did you look in Olivia's room?"

  Flynn's expression tightened. "No. I didn't check her room."

  "Why not?" she challenged.

  He stared back at her, his blue eyes darkening. "I don't know."

  She was surprised by his answer. "You don't?"

  "Maybe it was one door too many for me to open," he admitted.

  She almost felt bad for challenging him, because there was no denying the hurt in his gaze.

  "But I need to get in there," he said quickly. "And in every other room in this house. You asked about my relationship to Arthur. He was good to me when I was dating Olivia, and after she died, he basically helped me keep my head above water. He was there for me in a way that no one else was."

  "What about your own parents?"

  "My mom was working. My dad wasn't around. But Arthur was there. He was in pain, too. We supported each other, but it went beyond that. Arthur convinced me to go to college, to mak
e something of my life. If he hadn't been around, I probably could have ruined my life in a lot of different ways. That's why I owe him, why I need to find his killer."

  "That makes sense. I am surprised, though, given your relationship, why I've never heard of you before. You weren't at Arthur's wedding or his sixty-fifth birthday last month. Yet, you were there last night. Was that a coincidence?"

  "No," he said, surprising her once more. "Arthur asked me to meet him. He said he needed some help, a favor."

  "What did he want you to do?"

  "I don't know. He wanted to speak to me after the exhibit opened."

  "I wonder what he wanted."

  "It's driving me crazy," Flynn admitted.

  Looking at him now, he didn't seem so much like a terrifying FBI agent who could put her mother in jail but more like a man with his own guilt to assuage, his own demons to battle. And she found herself wanting to trust him, because she needed to trust someone.

  "For the police, the other agents, this is just a case," he continued. "It's more than that for me. I'll be honest with you; your mother is a target right now. The video is concerning, her behavior is alarming, and you need to help me find a clue that takes this investigation in another direction."

  "I would like to do that; I just don't know as much as you think I do."

  "Or you might know more than you realize. Sometimes a detail seems insignificant, but it's part of a bigger picture. Will you help me?"

  Before she could answer, the doorbell rang. "That must be Dr. Clarke. I need to deal with my mother's situation first."

  "I understand. We'll talk again. I'm not going anywhere."

  His promises always sounded threatening, but she couldn't worry about Flynn. She couldn't help him, until she helped her mother.

  Chapter Five

  Callie held her breath as Dr. Clarke examined her mother. While he was able to rouse her from sleep, she was still very confused as to what was going on. She did remember that Arthur was dead. But she couldn't remember going out on the balcony and trying to climb over the railing. She also had no idea what day or time it was.

  With each bewildered, rambling answer, Callie's concern grew. This was just like the last time. Her mom was losing her grip on reality, lost in a sea of pain, and she was going to need professional help to get out of it. Or she could spiral away to a place that no one else would be able to get to.

  She hated Arthur's killer even more now. Because that person hadn't just taken Arthur's life; he might have also taken her mother's.

  Unless her mother had been the one to somehow shove Arthur over that railing?

  She hadn't seen her mom in the grand hall when the exhibition started, and she'd wondered where she was, but she'd assumed she was tending to some other aspect of the event.

  She also couldn't see how her mother could have gotten Arthur over the railing. She wasn't very strong. And she wouldn't have been able to hide what she'd done so well. She couldn't be guilty of killing him.

  When Dr. Clarke finished his examination, he motioned for Callie to follow him into the hall. The somber light in his eyes didn't give her much confidence for an optimistic diagnosis.

  "Your mother needs to be hospitalized, Callie. Based on her current state and what you told me happened earlier, I'd like to take her in now."

  "She won't want to go."

  "She's so confused I'm not sure she'll know where she's going. We can hold her for seventy-two hours without her permission since she's a danger to herself."

  "I know, but I can keep an eye on her."

  "Twenty-four hours a day?" he challenged. "I understand that this isn't your choice, Callie, but it's the best thing you can do for your mother."

  "She's been so good the past several years."

  "Which gives me hope we can get her back on track, but the shock of Arthur's death has overwhelmed her. She's not thinking rationally."

  "She hates being in the hospital. The drugs turn her into a zombie."

  He gave her a compassionate smile. "She needs medical treatment and she needs to be safe. We'll take her to St. Mark's. You've been there before. You know the patients are made to feel as comfortable as possible."

  Her mother had gone to St. Mark's the last time, and it had been a good place. She didn't want to put her back there, but what choice did she have? She couldn't watch her mother every second, and she did want her to be safe. "I know you're right. I just wish there was another alternative."

  "Do you want me to tell Juliette?"

  She thought about that. "She's been asking to go to the hospital to see Arthur. She's trying to convince herself he's not dead. I can probably get her dressed if she thinks that's the reason we're going to St. Mark's. I hate to deceive her, though. She might never forgive me."

  "She'll forgive you when she's better, when she understands that you have her best interests at heart."

  "I hope so." She took a breath. "The FBI wants to talk to her again. She gave an initial statement last night, but they want more details. Will this hospitalization prevent that from happening?"

  He gave her a thoughtful look. "I can prohibit any contact with law enforcement until I feel she's lucid and understands what she's being asked. At this moment in time, I don't believe she is in the right state of mind to speak to the police or the FBI."

  She was relieved to hear that. Maybe the hospital was the best possible place for her mom to be, so she couldn't incriminate herself in some way. "I'll help her get dressed," she told him.

  "I'll wait for you downstairs."

  "All right. Just so you know, there is an FBI agent in the house, Agent Flynn MacKenzie. He may try to speak to you about my mother's condition. He was in the room when she tried to throw herself over the balcony, so he's aware that she's having mental health problems, but I'd prefer that you don't share any information with him."

  "I never speak about my patients. You don't have to worry about that."

  "Thanks."

  As Dr. Clarke stepped out of the room, she walked over to the bed. Her mom was more awake now, but she was a mess: her eyes red, her nose raw, and dark shadows under her eyes that made her look beaten down, defeated. She hadn't looked this bad in a very long time.

  "Mom," she said, drawing her mother's attention. "You said you wanted to go to the hospital."

  "Will you take me to see Arthur?" her mom asked, a gleam of hope entering her eyes.

  She felt awful for lying, but she had no choice. She had to be strong enough to do what needed to be done. "I'll take you to the hospital, but we need to get you dressed. Do you think you can get up?"

  Her mom nodded and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, the idea of seeing Arthur giving her new energy. Callie helped her up, but she needed to keep her arm around her waist to keep her mother upright. They made their way into the walk-in closet. Her mom sat down on a bench while she pulled out a sweater and pants, keeping things as simple as she could. It still took a few minutes to get her into her clothes, and then brush her hair, but eventually she looked halfway decent. At least, she wouldn't be leaving the house in her nightgown.

  "Do you think Arthur will be mad?" her mom asked.

  "About what?"

  "He didn't like it when I asked him about Gretchen. He said I was crazy to be jealous. I hate when people think I'm crazy."

  "Who's Gretchen?"

  "She owns a gallery. She was at the event. Didn't you see her?"

  "I don't know. Maybe I did. I don't know who she is."

  "She's married, too, but she and Arthur have been talking all the time. And whenever I come into the room, he says he has to go, and he abruptly hangs up. Do you think I'm being paranoid and jealous, Callie?"

  She saw the earnest, worried light in her mom's eyes, and she did what she always did—she tried to protect her. "I know Arthur loved you. That's all you need to think about."

  "He did love me," Juliette said, nodding as if to reassure herself. "He still loves me. Why did you say
he used to love me?"

  "I just meant he has loved you from the first day you met." She was disappointed to realize that her mom was no longer accepting the fact that Arthur was dead.

  "I was lucky to find him. I hope I didn't mess it up. I always do that, don't I, Callie? I always mess things up with men. I did it with your father. And now with Arthur. Why can't I be better?"

  "You're great, Mom. Don't ever think you're not."

  "I love you, Callie. You're the only one I can really trust."

  Her mother's words twisted the knife of guilt in her heart. "I love you, too. I just want what's best for you. You know that, right?"

  Her mom gave her a vacant smile. "You're a sweet girl. I just wish you'd come and spend more time with me and Arthur. Maybe next week."

  She didn't answer; she just helped her mom to her feet and led her down the stairs.

  Flynn and Dr. Clarke were standing in the entryway. Whatever conversation they'd been having ended when she and her mother came down the stairs.

  "The police will keep the press away from your vehicle," Flynn told her.

  "Why is the press outside?" her mom asked. "Are they here for Arthur?"

  "Yes," she said, keeping it simple.

  "You're Arthur's friend," her mother said, her gaze focusing on Flynn. "We spoke last night, didn't we?"

  "We did," Flynn replied.

  "You used to date Olivia. It was so sad what happened to her. Did you find another girl to love?"

  Callie couldn't help but wonder how Flynn would answer that question. Had he found another woman to love?

  "It was a long time ago," he said carefully.

  "I'm going to see Arthur now," her mother told him.

  Flynn nodded, his gaze concerned.

  "I'll meet you there, Callie," Dr. Clarke said.

  "Yes." She looked at Flynn. "We'll have to talk later."