her life or activities. “Quote,” Frank had told her. “That’s exactly what her dad said, ‘no light.’”
That was why it had taken Theresa four days to pay Jillian’s mother a visit.
Who was she kidding? She simply hadn’t wanted to converse with a woman who had just lost her daughter. Too easy for parallels to pop up and linger.
And, truthfully, if they hadn’t seen Jillian in a year or two, they would be unlikely to illuminate Jillian’s state of mind or her relationship with her husband. So why was she here, taking over for the investigators like some sort of deranged Nancy Drew?
Because she had a right to ask what they knew about Jillian’s state of mind. That was the job of the medical examiner’s office. Maybe not her job, specifically, but close enough. She opened the car door and stepped onto the asphalt.
And because she wasn’t going to turn her back on Jillian Perry again.
The frigid air filtered out of the valley with the smells of evergreens and frozen earth. Cuyahoga Falls tried to live in harmony with the nature surrounding the town, and for the most part had the funds to do so. Apparently the antiques business had not suffered along with the rest of the economy. The shopgirl who had answered the phone earlier said that Barbara Perry would be in all morning and could pick up the line as soon as she finished with a couple and their butler’s table. Theresa hadn’t waited. Barbara Perry had at least seen her newborn granddaughter, and with luck might know more about her daughter than anyone suspected.
There was only one way to find out.
Still, the walk to the lettered glass door seemed to take many more steps than it should have. The air felt especially bitter, and one lone starling gazed at her as he perched on the luggage rack of a silver Audi. The starling squawked.
“You shouldn’t be here either, my little feathered friend. Aren’t the smart birds still in Florida?”
Its marble eyes did not waver. She reached the door.
What are you hoping this woman will do? Tell you that Jillian said Evan threatened to kill her and also said, by the way this is how I’ll do it? Tell you that Jillian had been contemplating suicide, so she walked into that woods of her own accord and Evan is simply a tactless, shallow, but innocent man? Decide that perhaps she should sue for custody of Cara, since Evan is all by himself and not even a blood relation to the little girl?
Maybe.
Then he’d sue you for sure.
But Cara would be safe.
She pushed the door open and stepped through. Not even the smell of wood polish and old upholstery could unclench her stomach.
She saw Barbara Perry immediately, her hair and eye color too identical to her daughter’s to miss. The woman held a glass bowl out to an older man in a heavy parka, not removing her own hands until his had firmly clasped the beveled edges. She wore a simple pantsuit in light pink and a heavy cardigan sweater that seemed to pull her shoulders down. The blond hair was set in precise curls. The blue eyes never left the bowl.
Blowing a sale would not get their relationship off to a good start. Theresa browsed through lamps and then a few shelves of knickknacks until the man decided to pony up for the bowl. As soon as he left with his carefully wrapped package, she approached the woman.
“Mrs. Perry?”
“Yes,” she said and viewed Theresa without apparent interest.
Theresa introduced herself without specifying her position at the medical examiner’s office. “I realize this is a difficult time for you, but could I please have a few minutes?”
“We couldn’t do this on the phone?” She sounded more surprised than upset. Only plumbers made house calls these days. “I’m working.”
I thought you might be more forthcoming without your husband. “I was in the area anyway,” Theresa lied blatantly. She’d lived in northern Ohio all her life and only visited the suburb east of her perhaps three times.
“I don’t think I can help you. My daughter and I haven’t seen much of each other these past few years.”
“Anything you could tell me would help. We’re trying to complete her case file, but I wanted to be sure that I spoke with all her next of kin first.”
With the carrot of closure dangled before her, Barbara Perry agreed to take a break. She said as much to a skinny teenager with CARLOTTA on her name tag and led Theresa to an area next to the office that showed almost as much sophistication as the showroom. The coffeepot had deep stains and the microwave needed cleaning, but the sofa had been upholstered in crimson jacquard and an orange carnival-glass teacup held the Splenda packets.
Theresa’s heart beat a little desperately as she planted her bottom on the red cushions.
Pretend she’s Rachael’s teacher, she coaxed herself. She’s given Rachael a C instead of an A on a recent test that Rachael insists she aced, and you’re not leaving until you find out why. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Perry. I’m sorry for your loss.”
The woman did not speak until after she’d craned her neck to get her coworkers in her line of sight. The teenager on the floor moved to greet a pair of young women crossing the threshold, and a man of indeterminate age spoke, low and without pause, on the phone in the adjacent office. Apparently reassured, Barbara Perry stated, “I loved Jillian.”
“I’m sure you-”
“No.” She looked at Theresa, pressed her trembling lips together. “I loved Jillian. I think she made some mistakes, and perhaps I did too, but I loved her. You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I could say it’s all right, it doesn’t matter. But it wasn’t right, bringing that baby into the world without a father, using her body instead of her mind to make a living, and how could I say it was? What’s the point of being a parent if you don’t try to influence your child to take the healthiest path?” She turned her palms up. “What am I here for if not that?”
Theresa stammered, “I see your point.”
“I could say to myself, Jillian’s an adult now, she has to make her own decisions, and of course that’s true. But I’d be saying it to absolve myself of responsibility. I see others doing the same thing, with kids younger and younger.”
It took this woman thirty seconds to confess to a parent’s thorniest worry, Theresa thought. She wants to talk. She particularly wants to talk about Jillian. “What was Jillian like as a girl?”
An awfully broad question for a medical examiner’s investigation, but Barbara couldn’t be expected to know typical queries from the atypical. Nor did she seem to care. “Sweet. They were both so easy, she and her brother. That’s why it jolted us so when she dropped out of school to be a model. She had always planned to be a teacher, and all of a sudden, after two years of college…at first I thought she’d gotten lazy, even though she never had been before. She had always worked hard for her grades. She’d had a job at the Dairy Queen since the tenth grade. Jillian was never lazy. She
“It sounds like a fun job,” Theresa put in when the woman’s voice faded.
“For how long, though? She needed to be able to make a living, be independent. I always thought it had to do with breaking off her engagement to Jeremy.”
“Jeremy?”
“They dated through high school and into college. A nice boy. Even Andrew liked him, felt he would take sufficiently good care of his little princess.”
“Is that what your husband called Jillian?”
“Always.” A gentle smile showed, in no uncertain terms, the origin of Jillian’s looks. “Both our kids, the prince and princess. Just a family joke-it’s not that they were spoiled. Our son wasn’t interested in being royalty, only in running and playing ball and getting a car. But Jillian, she would play dress-up in my old clothes and fashion tiaras for herself out of pipe cleaners and costume jewelry. Every day in the summer she’d be in the backyard with a court of stuffed animals and dolls.”
She seemed in danger of getting lost in the memory, so Theresa said, “My daughter did the same thing after I brought home a tape of Disney’s Sleeping Beauty.” She didn’t add that Rachael had tired of the pomp and circumstance in a week, after figuring out you couldn’t ride a bike in a ball gown.
“My husband finally built her a castle. It was basically just a plywood crate and she was nearly ten, barely enough room to turn around in, but Andrew put a little turret at the top and painted it as best he could. She’d spend hours in there, winter and summer. I’d go out and check on her, make sure she didn’t faint from heatstroke or
