In Hope's Shadow

by Janice Kay Johnson

  It took him a second to realize she was only using a figure of speech and had no idea how accurate she’d been.

  “No, ma’am.” He held her gaze, letting her see he meant it. “I will not.”

  “That’s fine then,” she said with a nod. “If you don’t have any more questions, I believe I’ll get back to my gardening. Everything takes me longer than it used to, but the weeds haven’t slowed down any.”

  He laughed. “No, Mrs. Finster, and they’re not likely to.”

  Her chuckle was more of a giggle, unexpectedly young-sounding, which had him still smiling as he circled his car to get in. As he buckled his seat belt, though, his smile died. He thought back to the last thing Rick De Luca had said.

  “That Shaffer kid is an arrogant little prick.”

  Now Ben found himself thinking Gavin Shaffer was something else altogether: he was a sociopath. He fit the description to a T, from the superficial charm and high intelligence to the lack of remorse and pathological egocentricity.

  But like Gavin’s former neighbors, Ben couldn’t prove it. Not yet. But he would. The kid might be smart, but the arrogant part, yeah, it fit. Gavin was incapable of believing anyone could bring him down. Why would he, when it sounded as if he’d always gotten his way?

  He must have been seriously annoyed when his adoring, supportive mother remarried, and he not only had to adapt to her new husband but was forced to share his home with an older boy who was a football star being recruited by a bunch of major universities. No, Gavin wouldn’t have liked that. All he’d have had to do was overhear Clement Rowe blasting Joel for daring to set foot in his yard, and Gavin would have seen how he could reclaim the premier place in his household. He might have figured a few nasty tricks would be enough, but still Joel stayed. Given Gavin’s personality disorder, escalation was almost inevitable. He might have enjoyed killing Mr. Rowe, he might not have, but it wouldn’t have meant any more to him than squishing a bug—or beheading a friendly old cat.

  Despite Ben’s cold certainty, he knew he had to proceed carefully, and for a lot of reasons. Starting with the possibility that Joel Kekoa also suffered from a personality disorder. It wouldn’t be surprising if his upbringing hadn’t left him with some scars. His father had been sentenced for armed robbery, after all. Investigators had suspected him of killing a convenience store clerk in an earlier robbery, but weren’t able to prove it. Some people would say, Like father, like son. Traits could be learned.

  But Ben had arrested Joel himself and seen his stunned bewilderment. His first words had been “Somebody killed Mr. Rowe?” as if he couldn’t believe it. That might have been grief mixed with his shock, as if despite everything he didn’t like to think of anything bad happening to the old guy. In later interviews, he’d been sullen, maybe even simmering with some anger. But who wouldn’t be angry, falsely accused of murder?

  Turned out that, despite everything, Joel Kekoa was a lucky kid. He had Eve in his corner.

  One step at a time, Ben reminded himself. Right now, he needed confirmation of what Mrs. Finster had told him from some of the other neighbors.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I SHOULD BE taking off, too,” Eve said, about two seconds after Bailey said it. “Tomorrow’s a working day.” She narrowed her eyes at Seth, who’d claimed an early workday with a straight face when she knew darn well he had no intention of going in at all.

  Behind his soon-to-be mother-in-law’s head, he winked at her.

  Eve would have rolled her eyes, had Mom not turned just then. “Oh, I’d so hoped you’d stay for a few minutes, Eve,” she said, not hiding her disappointment.

  “For a little bit, Mom.” As if she could say anything else.

  Mom hugged Bailey close, murmured something in her ear, then gave Seth a squeeze, too, which he reciprocated. Dad settled for kissing Bailey’s cheek and shaking hands with Seth.

  A moment later, Eve trailed her mother back to the kitchen. Dad disappeared into the living room, and she heard the TV come on. Did he know what Mom wanted to talk about and was hiding out? Or was just giving them some girl time?

  “Another cup of tea?” Karen asked.

  Eve hopped up onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “That sounds good.”

  Setting the teakettle onto a burner to heat, her mother started fussing. “I’m so sorry Ben couldn’t make it tonight. I had Seth ask him, you know.”

  Eve stiffened. “Seth, instead of me?”

  Mom looked startled. “I happened to be talking to him. Since they work together, I suggested he invite Ben and you. Since I don’t talk to you as often as I used to.”

  Eve’s temper rose to a simmer. “Oh, that was low.”

  Nobody could do innocently surprised better than Karen Lawson. “What on earth do you mean?”

  “I take your calls whenever I’m not in the middle of a meeting. I have dinner here nearly once a week. In fact, when you called to invite me for dinner tonight, I answered. I call you on a regular basis.”

  “But not as often as you used to.”

  Guilt spiced the temper, because it was true. Eve had considered Mom to be her best friend—until Hope’s resurrection, which had stirred all these complicated feelings. Too many of them involved Mom, so how could she talk to her about them?

  But maybe not talking to her had been more damaging to their relationship than being honest would have been. Dad had listened and not seemed hurt. Mom, too, might have the right words to heal Eve’s sore places, and having her daughter talk to her openly might heal some of Mom’s.

  “This last year has been a little bit hard for me. Mostly, I’m embarrassed at what I’ve been feeling, so I didn’t want to tell you.”

  Karen stared at her, not moving even when the kettle shrieked. “I don’t understand.”

  “The water is boiling.”

  “I know it’s boiling,” Karen snapped in a rare display of temper. She snatched the kettle from the stove, poured water into both cups and turned off the stove. She set one in front of Eve, but stayed barricaded on the other side of the breakfast bar herself.

  Wow, Eve thought. I’m going to have to come right out and say it. She really doesn’t have a clue.

  “Hope,” she said. “Bailey.”

  Mom didn’t so much as blink.

  “It started when I first mentioned Hope to Seth.” She gave a small, wry smile. “You remember how excited he got.”

  “I will bless him forever.” Mom’s fervency came through loud and clear. Her voice rang with joy. “And to think he’s marrying her.”

  Totally oblivious.

  “That’s all fabulous from your point of view.” Eve couldn’t help it if she sounded sharp. “But try to remember that I was dating the man. Suddenly, he was obsessed with her instead.” She took a breath. “And so were you.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “I’m not implying. I’m saying. From that moment on, all you could think about was Hope. I started wondering if I hadn’t been as good a substitute for her as I’d thought I was.”

  The shock on Karen’s face made Eve’s heart cramp. She closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that, Mom. I’m sorry.”

  “But you meant it, didn’t you?”

  The hand on her lap, the one her mother couldn’t see, tightened into a fist. Her fingernails bit into her palm. “I’m telling you my feelings were hurt. I know it was irrational. I can’t help it. I suppose I have a...core of insecurity. From before.”

  Mom’s expression softened but remained puzzled. “You’re twenty-nine. You’ve been our daughter for twenty-one years. I suppose I thought—”

  “I’d gotten over all that?” Suddenly there was an edge in her voice again, because she couldn’t believe she was having to say this. “Well, here’s news. With a beginning like mi
ne, you never get over it, not entirely. And I know you love me. You and Dad.” A lump rose in her throat. “I believe that. But I’ve still struggled with the way you light up for Bailey, as if she’s the center of your existence. With the fact that Seth dumped me for her the second he set eyes on her.” She gave a short laugh. “No, even before that. I think I lost him when he saw that damn age-progressed drawing.”

  Neither of them had so much as taken a sip of tea.

  “It just...all got tangled up in me. I felt like an outsider. Reality is, if Hope hadn’t been abducted, you’d never have taken me in. Never have adopted me. And now...you have her back.”

  The bones in her mother’s face had never been sharper, more defined. Lines that Eve had never seen aged her. “You really think that.”

  “No!” Eve cried. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t, but there’s this little voice inside me that sometimes whispers, You never were good enough. You don’t look like them. Anybody can tell you’re not really their daughter.”

  “Oh, dear God.” Mom pressed fingers to her lips.

  “Dad—I think he understands. But you never even noticed.” Her sinuses burned. “So, I guess I did stay away. Not because of you. Because of me. Because I’m ashamed. I knew none of what I was feeling was true, but I felt it anyway and I had to deal with that.”

  “I thought you liked Hope.” Her mother sounded utterly bewildered. And, of course, still fixated on Hope. Always Hope. “That you welcomed her home, too.”

  “I...did. I was glad for you.” The shame burned, because at first, she hadn’t. “We’ve really become friends.” She shook her head. “More than that. Sisters. We have, Mom. But...it took time.”

  “And I’ve been completely blind,” Mom whispered.

  This minute, her eyes looked glazed. Eve suspected her mother didn’t see her in truth.

  “I should have been more open with you.” No, she thought hopelessly. She should have been a better person than to clutch such petty resentments to herself, as if she was the one who had been wronged. How ironic that she’d always known how lucky she was to be taken in by these kind people. Loved by them. Oh, God, what’s wrong with me?

  Her mother gave a funny little nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I don’t think I want this tea, after all.” She very carefully lifted the tea bag from the cup, dropped it in the trash can under the sink, poured out the liquid and set the cup on the top rack in the dishwasher. Then she walked past Eve, and a moment later Eve heard a door close quietly down the hall. Mom had taken refuge in her bedroom, or perhaps her quilt studio.

  Eve didn’t move for a long time. The television provided white noise. She had no idea what was on.

  Finally, she slid off the stool and, like her mother, dumped out her tea and carefully placed the cup in the dishwasher, leaving the counters so clean they shone.

  Then, just as quietly, she let herself out of the house. These had been the worst few days of her life since she was a confused, hungry, filthy child too young to understand crack addiction or why Mommy didn’t wake up. Who waited and waited and waited, until she was finally desperate enough to leave that squalid apartment and knock on the neighbor’s door, even though they were scary people.

  The scene with Ben had been devastating. She’d loved him. Probably still did, but couldn’t think about that. Now, she’d hurt her mother terribly in the name of honesty. The woman who had given her stability, normalcy, love. But she didn’t give me understanding, whispered a voice in her head. That was the one thing her mother had always withheld.

  More pettiness. Me, me, me.

  Social worker, degree in psychology, and she was officially pathetic.

  * * *

  LYNNE CARTER WAS not happy to see Ben again. Gavin in contrast started out relaxed, amiable.

  Ben had parked on the street outside the high school, watching as teenagers flooded out of buildings after the last bell of the day, a few lining up to catch buses, others setting off down the sidewalk in packs or completely alone, the majority piling into cars.

  The ones walking alone worried him, but he kept his attention on a souped-up Chevy with flames painted along the sides. Gavin sauntered out surrounded by his own little coterie but split apart from them to get into his car. It started with a throaty roar.

  He drove about the way you’d expect—in jerks and lunges, stops raising smoke from beneath the tires. Idiot. Ben’s thought might have been tolerant, if not for everything else he knew about Gavin Shaffer.

  Boy drove straight home, wonder of wonders, and pulled into the driveway. He’d reached the porch when Ben pulled up, blocking driveway and souped-up car.

  As Ben got out and strolled up to the house, Gavin appeared puzzled but friendly. There was absolutely no emotion visible in his sky-blue eyes.

  Next door, yellow crime scene tape still blocked entry to the front door and presumably the back. No reason it couldn’t come down, but there still seemed to be some question about who Clement Rowe’s heir might be. Turned out he’d had a daughter, but she was dead, and any grandkids were proving elusive.

  Remembering the way everyone on the block in Everett had been out gardening Saturday, Ben felt a pang. Given another few weeks of rain and sunshine, Mr. Rowe’s lovingly cared for lawn would be shaggy, maybe start creeping into pristine flower beds.

  Ben’s face hardened when he looked at the teenage boy who waited on the porch. “Gavin,” he said with a civil nod. “Your mom home?”

  The mask in place, the teenager shrugged. “Probably. How come you need to talk to her again?”

  “I’m actually here to talk to you,” Ben said, “but I need her to be present, or at least to clear it.”

  The eyes literally darkened. “Me? You’re kidding, right?”

  “Why would I be kidding?” He tipped his head toward the door. “You going to ring the bell or unlock?”

  He unlocked and, before the door was wide-open, bellowed, “Mom!”

  She appeared from the kitchen. Sounded as if she had a radio or the TV on in there. Her gaze took in her son before turning anxiously to Ben.

  “Detective Kemper. My goodness. I didn’t expect to see you again.”

  “Well, ma’am, murder investigations take time. The obvious answer isn’t always the right one. I imagine you know that.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gavin stiffen.

  Mrs. Carter squeezed her hands together. “Of course. Do you need to look in the garage again? Or see Joel’s room?”

  “No, I was actually hoping to talk to Gavin today. Since he’s a minor, I need your permission.”

  She went utterly still. “Why would you need to speak to him?”

  “Just have some questions.” Ben kept his tone easy.

  Her gaze darted to Gavin. Then she squared her shoulders. “I’m sure he won’t mind. Will you, honey?”

  The kid’s lip curled. Ben couldn’t blame him. No self-respecting teenage boy appreciated his mother using an endearment in front of anyone else.

  But then he met Ben’s eyes, his own guileless. “No, why would I mind?”

  “Good. Do you mind if we sit down?”

  Ben politely declined Lynne’s offer of coffee. She hovered uncertainly in the doorway to the living room as he settled on one end of the sofa and her son in a recliner.

  “Gavin, I’m going to walk you back through the assorted incidents with Mr. Rowe.”

  “But...why?” he asked blankly.

  “I wasn’t the responding officer and, even though I’m able to read police reports, I like to get my information firsthand.”

  “You should ask Joel, then. Why would I know anything?”

  Ben smiled. “You live right here. Any kind of uproar, you pay attention, right?”

  Gavin still looked cocky. “I guess.” He shrugged. �
�Sure.”

  The trampled rose canes? He hadn’t known anything about those until Mr. Rowe came roaring over. No, he hadn’t noticed anything wrong when he parked in the driveway only a few feet from the mangled shrubs. “They were just, like, brown sticks anyway.”

  “Neat brown sticks until then,” Ben observed mildly.

  Damned if he wouldn’t swear secret amusement lurked in Gavin Shaffer’s eyes. No, he might be seeing what he’d expected to see, given his skin-crawling dislike of this kid.

  The rock through the window? No, sir, he hadn’t heard that. He often fell asleep with his earbuds in and his iPod still playing.

  Lynne abandoned the doorway to ease into the room and sit on a glider off to Ben’s left. At least she was being cooperative so far, not intervening. Too many parents felt compelled to speak for their kids.

  Ben asked if he and Joel had hung out at all. Maybe shot baskets together, tossed a football. “There’s a baseball diamond, what, half a mile away at Jefferson Middle School. You two ever pitched a few balls for each other?”

  Gavin’s eyes narrowed. Ben could almost see the wheels turning. Was there any way he could have left a fingerprint on that baseball bat?

  “Yeah, I guess we might have a few times,” he decided.

  Nobody ever said Gavin was dumb. His mother, though, wasn’t as good an actor. She gave a start of surprise.

  The fire. Ben understood why Gavin hadn’t heard anything, since he’d been listening to music, but since he was awake and his bedroom was on the back of the house, it was surprising he hadn’t smelled smoke.

  “It was winter. My window was closed.” But he was starting to look wary and, maybe, just a little mad.

  “Wood smoke, though,” Ben mused, “it’s insidious. Although you have a fireplace. You folks ever light a fire in it?”

  Well, yes.

  Did he know where the matches were kept?

  As if irresistibly drawn, his gaze slid to the mantel. Ben took note of the bottle of gel fire starter and a box of extra-long fireplace matches. The fire marshal had suspected fire starter had been used. The decking wouldn’t have been easy to get burning, not after months of on-again/off-again rain. Gasoline had been poured down the side of the house, but whoever lit the blaze might have been afraid to throw that match right onto wood soaked in gas, because of vapors. A dumb kid might not have thought of that; budding arsonists were known to set themselves on fire. But Gavin was smart—as, for that matter, was Joel. And the fire starter was handily available. Ben wondered, if he checked, whether he’d find the bottle mostly empty. Or maybe not; the kid—whichever kid—might have replaced the one he’d used up. Might be worth checking at retail outlets.