“No, Mom, I want you to be free. As long as you’re with Hunter, you’ll let your perfect man pass you by.”
She shook her head. “My perfect man died in Afghanistan, Esmer. I’ve had to settle for the next best thing.”
I gritted my teeth. “Hunter isn’t even close to—”
“Let’s agree to disagree.” My mom wiped her face, forcing a big fake smile. Shoving her problems under the rug, going back to pretending like nothing was wrong, protecting herself at all costs. “Let’s respect each other’s choices, all right?” She patted me on the cheek before rising. “I love you, sweetheart.”
Swallowing the knot of grief and frustration, I murmured, “Love you too, Mom.”
“Great. Now, let’s go have some fun.” She twirled around and headed toward the back door before I could say anything else.
I didn’t know why her words hurt so much. We’d argued about Hunter while they were dating. We’d argued about Hunter after they’d gotten married. Did I honestly think one more conversation would change her mind? She’d stayed with him this long; why would she suddenly realize how terrible he was and how unhappy he made her?
I guess, deep down, I never stopped hoping she’d own up to her mistakes, make things right, recreate the home we used to have.
Now that I’d admitted it to myself, I realized how childish it was. My mom couldn’t turn back time or fix the things Death had wrecked in our lives. She was human, just like the rest of us: flawed and needy and doing her best to survive. She wasn’t going to fight for the happiness I believed she deserved, not when she thought her life was already as good as it would get. There was no use trying to convince her she was wrong.
I took a deep breath, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. It was like she said. We’d both made our choices. She was letting me go; now I had to let her go. Along with all my hopes and expectations.
This was how things were between us, maybe how they’d always be. I just had to love her anyway and take advantage of every second we could spend together.
Chapter 36
Charles
We convened in one of the conference rooms: Uncle Victor, Jasmine, me, and two immortal couples. It sounded like the beginning of a really weird joke, and if I’d gotten more rest the night before, I might’ve laughed. But I was operating on four hours of fitful sleep so I wasn’t laughing. In fact, it was all I could do to stay awake. My eyes stung like fresh burns. I stared at the ice cubes bobbing in the water Uncle Vic had gotten for everyone, thinking how nice it would feel to press them against my eyelids. No one seemed to be in the mood for sipping water right now anyway.
The Wards wore polite smiles all the while maintaining stiff postures, like two mannequins that had been positioned to look like a couple sitting arm in arm. The soon-to-be-senator and his wife had cut and styled their hair to keep up with the latest trends; she had blond highlights and professionally applied makeup. They must’ve been wearing powder too because their complexions were definitely lighter than the Smiths’. They could’ve passed for third generation Hispanic or Mediterranean. They dressed sharply in tailored suits and expensive-looking shoes. They even spoke like locals, with no trace of accents.
The Smiths, sitting directly across from the power couple, were a startling contrast with their all-natural appearances, simply cut hair, and second-hand clothes. They quietly watched their former friends, Mrs. Smith with heartbreaking sadness in her eyes and Mr. Smith with suspicion.
Uncle Victor sat toward the middle of the table between the two couples, looking calm and in control despite his precarious position. He laid out all the details of the investigation that he could share, along with what he’d discovered about the Salamander, and talked briefly about the suspects he’d already cleared.
Jasmine and I stood toward the back of the room, present but not technically part of the conversation. I’d wanted to take a nap and get the SparkNotes version of this interrogation from my uncle after it was over. My sister, of course, wanted to be right in the thick of things. Protectiveness beat exhaustion in the end. So there I was, leaning back against the wall, trying not to doze off.
“The Smiths’ innocence has been proven as well,” my uncle concluded by saying. “Which is why I requested to meet with both of you today. I’m fresh out of suspects and this hired killer is still at large. Can you think of anyone else who might be behind these murders?”
He was giving them a chance to come clean about the third couple before accusing them of withholding information. It was more than any other cop would’ve done.
Still, Mr. Ward shook his head. “No. I’m sorry, Detective. I’ve told you everything I believed to be pertinent.” He glanced at the Smiths before he shifted closer to his wife. “Why did you require us to come here? Couldn’t we have discussed this over the phone?”
“Yes, and why are they here?” Mrs. Ward added, staring daggers at the Smiths.
Jasmine pushed away from the wall, hands fisted at her sides. “They’re here because, unlike you, they actually care about justice.”
Mr. Ward lowered his brow. “Excuse me?”
“What my passionate niece is trying to say,” Uncle Victor said, shooting Jasmine a frustrated look, “is that the Smiths have provided us with the names of two other potential suspects, mutual acquaintances of yours who might have reason to want to intimidate you out of the election. We’re curious to learn why you neglected to tell us about this couple.”
Mr. Ward barked at the Smiths in a different language. Mr. Smith stood
