earlier than usual. The big house was empty without Frank and his booming voice. Lying around in bed could only make it seem emptier. The image saddened Ryan. The loss had siphoned her frontier spirit. She looked older to him now, even in his mind’s eye. He envisioned her sitting at the kitchen table with the phone to her ear, watching her morning toast and coffee get cold as Ryan tried to tell her the truth about the man she had married.
“I don’t want to hear it,” she said again, firmly.
It was a worn-out refrain, repeated like a mantra throughout their conversation. Ryan couldn’t give her any details. She wouldn’t allow it, threatened to hang up. It was as if she had fulfilled her promise to Frank by telling Ryan about the safe deposit box, and now she was done with it. It had been Ryan’s decision to open the box. Now he had to deal with the consequences. Not her.
“Mom, at least let me say this much. It’s possible the FBI will contact you.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Don’t get nervous. I said it’s possible, not definite. Yesterday, Norm notified the assistant U.S. attorney that he is the legal counsel for the entire Duffy family. They shouldn’t contact any of us directly now that we have a lawyer.”
“What do I say if they do call me?”
“Tell them they should call me or Norman Klusmire. Period. Don’t try to be polite and helpful. You need to be firm on this.”
“All right.”
“Sarah needs to hear this, too. I’ve been trying to call her since late last night. Nobody answers at her house. Is she okay?”
“As far as I know, yes. She’s okay.”
“If you see her, tell her exactly what I told you. And have her call me as soon as possible. I’ll be at Norm’s house or at his office the rest of the day. We need to talk about Brent.”
“Brent came back yesterday.”
“So you heard what he did in Denver?”
“Uh — when are you coming home, Ryan?”
He paused. She obviously didn’t want to talk about Brent. She didn’t seem to want to talk about anything. “Maybe tomorrow. I have a few things to take care of here in the city.”
“What are you doing about the clinic, son?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m referring my patients to Dr. Weber in Lamar.”
“Oh, he’s a fine doctor. And his receptionist is just lovely. Sweet and very pretty. Maybe you can give her a call once you and Liz are legally-”
“ Mom,” he groaned. His mother seemed to focus on the goofiest things in times of crisis. “Goodbye, Mom. I love you. Just remember, none of us has anything to be ashamed of. We’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Yes,” she said in a voice that quaked. “I’ll try and remember that.”
Sarah waited for the click on the other end of the line, then hung up the phone. She’d heard it all, without Ryan’s knowledge.
Yesterday’s attempt to confront Brent about the attack had proved disastrous. She’d spent the night at Mom’s, giving her hotheaded husband some time to cool off. She and her mother had spent most of the night talking about Ryan. Sarah was suspicious. Partly it was because of things Brent had said, but not entirely. It seemed Ryan was keeping her in the dark, maybe for his own purposes. Jeanette had let her eavesdrop on this morning’s phone call to ease her concerns.
Her slippers shuffled along the floor as she moved from the living room to the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway and glared at her mother. She was accusatory, not quizzical. “Why didn’t you let him talk?”
Jeanette sipped her coffee, then grimaced. It was cold. “What do you mean?”
“You wouldn’t let him tell you what he found out.”
“I didn’t want to know.”
“Well, I want to know.”
“I’m sure he’ll tell you.”
Sarah groaned, exasperated. “That was the whole point of letting me listen in on the phone call, Mom. To see if he would tell you things he wouldn’t tell me.”
Jeanette refilled her coffee cup and returned to her chair. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to get involved in this just to eliminate your crazy suspicions about your own brother.”
“It’s not crazy.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you with him on this?”
She stopped in mid-sip. “What?”
“Neither one of you wants me to know what’s going on.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You two are together on this. As soon as I walk out that door, you’ll call him right back and get all the information. You’re leaving me out of the loop.”
“Sarah, get hold of yourself. This is your family you’re talking about.”
“Mom, I was on the phone. I heard, okay? All he had to do was mention Brent’s name and you start talking about some silly receptionist in Lamar. Is that the problem? You’re afraid of Brent? Or do you not trust me, either?”
“Of course I trust you, Sarah. And your brother does, too.”
“Then why didn’t he tell me about that woman named Amy?”
“What woman?”
“The woman who Dad sent some money to in a box. She went to see Ryan, and he never told me. Then she came to see me.”
Jeanette shook her head vigorously. “I don’t want to know about that. I’m sure Ryan had his reasons.”
Sarah came to the table and sat across from her. It was clear her mother didn’t want to discuss it, but she wouldn’t let it go. “She came here to Piedmont Springs. I talked to her. Says Dad sent her a thousand dollars in a box. I got bad vibes from that woman. Real nervy-like. I didn’t like her. Didn’t like her at all.”
Jeanette said nothing.
Sarah said, “She had an attitude. Came on too strong for my taste. Like she was entitled to something. Like she was part of the family or something.”
Jeanette stared down into her coffee cup. Her hands were shaking, as if she were bracing herself for the worst.
“Mom, I need to ask you something. Was Dad ever unfaithful to you?”
Silence fell between them. Sarah tried to catch her eye, but her mother wouldn’t look up. Finally, she answered in a voice that was almost inaudible. “That’s a very personal question.”
“Was he?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“A man can’t have an illegitimate Amy, unless he was unfaithful.”
She nodded slowly, reluctantly. “Now that you put it that way, I’ll answer as best I can.”
Sarah watched her mother struggle for words, then put her question more firmly. “Well, was he?”
Jeanette looked her daughter in the eye. “I think he could have been.”
At 7:35 A.M. Amy was on her way to the office. Morning traffic was heavy on Arapahoe, but she was traveling on automatic pilot, deep in thought.
She had been up all night. The drive home from Coors Field had seemed like a blur. It wasn’t until 3:00 A.M., hours after she’d put Taylor to bed, that she’d even stopped shaking. She couldn’t talk about it, didn’t even tell Gram. Four different times throughout the night she’d picked up the telephone to call the police. Each time she’d hung up before she’d finished dialing, the words of her attacker echoing in her ear.
You ever talk to the police again, it’s your daughter who pays.
She wondered who the man was, if he had children of his own. Could one parent actually utter such words to another? Of course. That was how children grew up to be creeps like this. They were everywhere, she knew, people who could hurt children. No one had ever threatened her child, however, at least not directly. She remembered how horrified she’d felt when another pretty little girl had been murdered in Boulder. It had happened miles from their apartment when Taylor was just a baby. As a mother in the same city, she had felt threatened, even violated. This morning, she felt terrified.
