Closer Than Blood

“. . . The intruder or intruders circumvented the security system by cutting the wires to the power source. . . .” Lainie wondered why her sister had lied to her about the security system, saying that it had only been switched off. Accidentally. She gleaned one more bit of information from the story. Alex had a son from a previous marriage. The piece didn’t say specifically where the boy lived, but Lainie figured it was with his mother somewhere. She made a mental note to ask about that, too. As she drifted off to sleep, Lainie knew that her sister had a knack for misstating the truth. Lying convincingly had always been one of Tori’s specialties. The truth was Tori had so many gifts. Some good, some evil. Sometimes it was hard to tell exactly which.

Lainie O’Neal got off the phone and sat still on the edge of the bed. She could scarcely believe the conversation she’d had with Anne Connelly Childers, the sister of the brother-in-law she’d never met. It was unbelievable in its content, brevity, and overall awkwardness.

“My brother didn’t trust her, so, that’s what he got. Dead.”

“What are you saying?”

“You know. I know.”

“My sister never would have—”

“Really? That’s interesting. Ask her about the life insurance. If the money goes to her and not his son, then you know what kind of a woman she is.”

“She wasn’t even all that beautiful, if you ask me. I told him that she thought she was God’s gift to men, but I bet she was a plain, if not ugly, little harlot when the makeup came off.” Still playing the conversation in her head, Lainie went downstairs and found Tori in the living room. As she watched her walk to the cherry cabinet that held an elaborate media system, Lainie couldn’t help but think that her sister was using the moment to conjure up something appropriate to say. She put on Erik Satie’s Gymnopedie No. 1, a plodding piece of piano that seemed to fill the room with more sadness than the moment really required. Tori pulled her robe closer around her voluptuous torso as if the air was cool.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. Something was off, but it was hard to figure. Lainie studied the room. An enormous flatscreen TV over the mantel dominated the space. Antiques that were too good to be reproductions were positioned tastefully. In fact, all of it was tasteful, with the exception of the cottage painting that hung behind them. All of it expensive.

“I talked to your sister-in-law just now.” Lainie feigned interest.

“Really? How was she?”

“She hates you. But that wasn’t the biggest revelation. You’ve made a habit of pissing off people, haven’t you?” Tori said nothing.

“You neglected to tell me that you’re a mother,” Lainie said. Tori looked hard at her sister as she stood clad in another filmy Old Hollywood robe, pink as a flamingo’s feathers. Tori led them to the kitchen, where coffee was brewing into some expensive Italian carafe—not an espresso machine. That would require too much work. Tori liked to sit back and have things happen for her.

“You mean Parker?” She finally answered. Lainie stood across the expansive soapstone island.

“If that’s his name.” Tori pretended not to hear.

“Want something to eat? I’m not a meal person, but I seem to recall you were.”

“I’m fine, Tori.” Lainie knew that was one of Tori’s old tricks, a way to point out that she was two pounds heavier than she. Two freaking pounds! Tori poured them both a cup.

“Look, he’s the stepson from hell and I try to forget about him. Blamed me for everything—the breakup of his parents’ marriage, the fact his father was a workaholic. I don’t know anything and everything. But yes, and Parker has a mother, too. They live in Fircrest.” The town’s name caught Lainie off guard.

“That’s so close by,” she said. Tori shrugged.

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you going to call him? Call his mother?”

“Taken care of, Lainie. I asked the police to handle it.” Lainie let the comment pass without another remark. Her sister had a way of sifting out responsibilities and leaving the hard things behind for others to do.

“Sugar?”

“No. I’m trying to lose some weight,” Lainie said, lying.

“Good idea,” Tori said.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tacoma

The lobby area of the Tacoma Police Department was a mini-museum to all the men and women who donned a uniform to serve and protect the people of Grit City. Kendall sipped a mocha she bought in the Mug Shot Cafe by the front door and perused the uniform and badge exhibits in the clean, brightly lit space of a big-city station. It was a far cry from the Kitsap County Sheriff’s Office.

“Detective Stark?” a man’s voice said. She turned around.

“I’m Eddie Kaminski,” he said. Kaminski was a handsome man, dressed in a gray suit and silver-and-blue tie that would have made Josh Anderson envious.

“I didn’t know I’d be so fascinated by this, but I am,” she said, indicating the history display.

“Lots of great history on these walls. We joke around the office that one day there’ll be pictures of us up here.”

“I’m sure there will,” she said.

“How are things in Kitsap?” he said, motioning for her to follow him to the elevator. He swiped his badge and they got inside for the quick ride to the second floor.

“Nice area. My in-laws, or rather my ex-in-laws, have a place on Beach Drive.”

“As small towns go, pretty good place to live and raise a family.”

“Your hometown? Tori Connelly’s hometown?” he said.

“Right on both counts.” Kendall followed the detective to a spacious conference room that was most notable for an entire wall of photographs of police officers, most in uniform.

“Every commissioned officer and then some,” he said.

“I’m somewhere in the middle, but don’t point me out. That photo was twenty pounds ago and I’m vain enough to admit that I don’t like looking at it.” Kaminski picked up a Mountain Dew he’d been drinking before she arrived.

“Tori Connelly is that well known in South Kitsap?” he asked.

“You could say that, yes. Unforgettable, absolutely. She’s one of those people we know will always pop up. Not often. But always in a big way when they do.”

“You’ve heard we’ve got a person of interest in the shooting, and it isn’t her.” Kendall slid a plastic straw into the cup and drank.

“Right. The neighbor.”

“You have kept up on it,” he said.

“Sure, Detective,” she said.

“Like I said, Tori is kind of a legend in around here. I’m friends with her sister.”

“She’s the stuff of legend? How so?” Kendall sat down.

“She’s never had it easy, and she’s never responded to a situation in a way that was predictable. You probably know that she’s had some family and personal tragedies.”

“Her mom? Her boyfriend in high school?”

“Those, yes. But also her first husband. Died in Hawaii in an accident. She’s had more heartache than just about anyone I’ve ever known.” Kaminski retrieved a notepad and started writing.

“What about that first husband?”

“Accident. I didn’t investigate it, but the Honolulu police were thorough.”

“Right. Thorough,” he said.

“What about the dead kid in high school?”

“Jason Reed was his name. He was seventeen. Tori and her sister Lainie were involved in a car crash. Jason died at the scene.”

“Sounds tragic. But an accident, no?” Kendall shrugged slightly.

“Not sure. It was a long time ago. There are some irregularities and we’re working it.” They talked a little