or skin flicks were never going to pass her lips.
‘How did he plan on supporting himself?’
‘He didn’t say. I assumed he had savings, or could find legitimate work. He does know – knew – film production. Perhaps at a television studio in Corpus Christi or with Jabez Jones’s outfit.’
‘How much contact did you have with Pete after he returned to Port Leo?’
‘An hour, here and there,’ Lucinda said. ‘The chill had gone deep for years.’ She sank slightly into the bulk of the cardigan. ‘And selfishly, I did not want to be disappointed by him again. Pete thrives on disappointing others. I was happy to see him, but I wanted him to rehaul his life. I wasn’t willing to get too close until I thought he was sincere.’ Lucinda perceived the reaction in Whit’s face. ‘Perhaps I sound harsh, but mothers are mortal, too.’
‘No, I know it must have been tough for you. He told you nothing of this Corey film he planned?’
‘I didn’t know one word until Faith told me this morning. But I doubt Pete would have completed any real film. Bless his heart, he didn’t have the talent. The drive.’
‘I’m wondering why Pete chose Corey as a subject, after all these years.’
‘Penance, I suppose. He blamed himself for what happened to Corey.’
‘Why?’
‘Aren’t you the youngest of a whole passel of boys? Didn’t your brothers take care of you?’ She offered a wan smile.
‘Yeah, when they weren’t bossing me around or beating me up.’
Her smile faded. ‘Corey disappeared on a weekend when I was out of town on business. He vanished while he was on Pete’s watch, so to speak. Pete never forgave himself.’ She shrugged. ‘I think he’s been killing himself, slowly, for a long time. When certain people do wrong, they turn away from the world. Isolate themselves, slip on the hair shirt and self-destruct. It’s why he went into porn, and I think it eroded every bit of self-respect he had.’ She looked at Whit hard. ‘I’ve always believed you have to put your troubles behind you and soldier on.’
‘Maybe he came across new information about Corey’s disappearance. Like that Corey was still alive.’ It was a balloon to float.
The silence hung for nearly ten seconds. ‘I am certain Corey is dead.’
‘Why?’ Whit asked.
‘Because Corey would have contacted us if he was alive. He wouldn’t have let me suffer for all these years.’
‘Why did Corey run away from home?’
‘Don’t resurrect the other worst day of my life.’ For the first time she showed raw emotion, anger flaring her nostrils, her cheeks reddening.
Whit waited. Lucinda dragged her fingernails through her mop of red hair and gave a pained sigh.
‘I will never be able to author a book on good mothering, Judge. Taxpayers are easier to corral than willful children. Corey got involved with drinkers. Dopeheads. All to punish me for the time I was spending in Austin and the higher standards of behavior I expected from my boys. After their daddy died I let them run wild, do what they wanted, but once I was elected, they had to toe the line. It was not too much to ask of them. Pete tried, at least, but Corey slipped the leash like a wild dog.’
‘I know. I remember him, you know.’
‘Yes. He would have been about your age, now, wouldn’t he?’ She pondered Whit’s face wistfully.
‘You don’t think he’s living happily on a commune in Montana or a farm in Virginia?’
‘Does that really happen with most missing teenagers, Judge?’ Lucinda asked with a touch of frost. ‘I’d be overwhelmed to know Corey was in some idyllic retreat. Let me assure you the uncertainty of not knowing what happened to Corey is an ongoing thorn in my heart.’
‘When was the last time you spoke to Pete, Senator?’ Whit asked.
‘A couple of days ago. I wanted him to come to dinner alone, but he wouldn’t come without Velvet. He declined the invitation, told me he’d talk to me soon.’
‘I’m curious. How had you and Faith explained Pete’s absence to Sam?’
Lucinda smiled thinly. ‘We told him Pete worked in industrial films – you know, training tapes, corporate tapes for business conventions. Sam accepted it. Pete never told him any different – it was part of the agreement for him to see Sam.’
‘Did Pete ever talk about a change in the custodial arrangement?’ Whit watched Lucinda’s face turn pale.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Pete was contemplating suing for custody of Sam.’
The silence filled the study until Lucinda leaned forward and her chair squeaked. ‘Judge, have you lost your mind? Be realistic. How on earth would Pete stand a chance in a custody hearing?’
‘I don’t know,’ Whit said. ‘You tell me.’
‘He couldn’t have been serious. No family court would give Sam to Pete.’
‘Did he ever ask about joint custody, now that he was back?’
‘That would be an issue between him and Faith,’ she said sternly, and Whit thought, Yeah, right, like you wouldn’t be all in the middle of that.
‘Last point,’ Whit said. ‘The boat Pete was staying on, it’s owned by a family suspected of being involved in a drug ring. Y’all know anything about them?’
He could almost hear a political future boiling away in the room.
‘Most certainly not,’ Lucinda managed to say. ‘Pete’s friends were his friends, and his associates have nothing to do with us. I would expect you would not leak that news to the press as well.’ A vein throbbed in the hollow of her throat.
‘So you didn’t try to find out who was giving him room and board when he came back?’
‘I don’t like what you’re implying, Judge.’ For the first time he saw anger storm in her eyes, her jaw set, her mouth narrow.
‘Sorry, but I find it hard to believe you just let him waltz back in the middle of an election and didn’t research his friends, his benefactors, his purpose in being here.’
‘I can’t control what you believe. But I would be very careful as to what you imply to the world.’ He saw her scrutinize him with new eyes. He was not being, he supposed, the easygoing Whit Mosley who liked to wander the beach and never put two shakes into a job.
‘I’d like to speak to Sam.’
Her shoulders stiffened. ‘Of course. Assuming that his mother or I am present. He is a minor, after all.’
‘Of course. Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.’
‘But’ – she raised a finger – ‘I ask that you not discuss this custody idiocy with Sam.’
‘I can’t promise that. I’m sorry. I need to talk to him about any subject relevant to his father’s death.’
‘I won’t have you subjecting him to Velvet’s foolish notions. I’m assuming she’s the one claiming Pete wanted custody?’
‘Yes.’
‘A pathetic attempt to hurt us and I won’t permit it.’
Whit kept his voice mild, out of respect for her loss. ‘This is how it works. I interview him, and you or Faith can be there, and if there’s nothing he can add, fine. Or I can call him as a witness at the inquest. Put him on the stand.’
Her fingertips worked along her palms, awkwardly kneading the flesh. ‘Why don’t you let me discuss it with his mother?’
‘That would be fine.’ Whit stood and offered his hand. She shook it, but the cozy neighborliness had evaporated.
He saw himself to the door, but before he left the Bach CD suddenly roared in the study, the icy cleanness of the notes as loud as hammers.
In the late afternoon the teenagers – aimless, tans not faded from summer gold – were out in meager force. Two girls sat cross-legged on an arc of crushed shells at one end of the beach. A boy waded in the gentle surf, black jeans neatly rolled up past thick calves, dragging a bamboo stick in the water, watching it cut a wake through the waves.
Claudia parked in the small, sand-smeared asphalt lot that fed off the old Bay Highway. From the lot she
