"And some of those are going to be about who I am and why I'm with her daughter," he said knowingly.
"Those will be the first two questions. I know we need to talk to my mother, but I don't have a good feeling about this, Michael."
"Why? Do you think your mother is going to instantly dislike me?"
"Worse. I think she's going to like you too much."
* * *
"I can't believe Lieutenant Hodges didn't send over any information," Michael complained after a brief stop at the hotel. "I really thought she'd come through for us."
"It hasn't been that long, and she was on her way to court when we saw her," Alicia reminded him.
"True."
"I'm sure my mother will be able to tell us a lot about the professor's death," she added as they got back into the rental car and headed to her mother's house. "She's been at the university for fifteen years. She's also the kind of person who knows everything that's going on. In fact, she makes it her mission to know everything."
"You must get some of your curiosity from your mother."
His words surprised her. "I don't know about that. I've always thought I was exactly like my dad. He was more of a dreamer. His curiosity was about the universe. My mom was more interested in gossip—not that gossip can't be entertaining—but her world always seemed a lot smaller than his." As she finished speaking, she felt a little guilty for what she'd just said. "I'm not putting her down or anything."
"Aren't you?" Michael challenged, giving her a quick look.
"Well, maybe I was. Growing up, I was closer to my dad. We had more in common. We loved to spend time together. With my mom, it was contentious. We were always arguing. I constantly disappointed her. She disapproved of most of my choices. With my dad, love felt unconditional. With my mom, love came with achievement."
"What about your siblings? Were they close to your mother or your father or both?"
"Jake was close to both of our parents. He was the oldest, the son, and he was very even-tempered. Danielle was closer to my mom. She's the middle child and two years older than me. She was a girly girl. She and my mom liked to shop, get manicures together, go to the spa, decorate the house, and they spent a lot of time together. My mom is really going to miss Dani. She apparently just got a job that will take her to Washington, D.C. next month. It will be the first time anyone in the family besides me has left Texas for any length of time."
"Why did you leave, Alicia? Was it just for the lightning? Because I know Texas has some big storms."
"The lightning was part of it, but I wanted a change in my life. And I didn't want anyone looking over my shoulder, criticizing my decisions. After I dropped out of college, my mother was constantly harping on me to go back. When the job I'd taken ended, I was at loose ends and decided a change would be good. That was four years ago."
"No regrets?"
"About moving away, no," she said, shaking her head. "My mom has a way of making me feel bad about myself, probably because she's not completely wrong. I haven't been the most ambitious of people, and I've made decisions based on things like lightning patterns instead of career potential. I know that at times my priorities are a little skewed, but I go with my gut. So far it hasn't led me into too much trouble."
"Are you happy with your life?"
"Pretty much."
"Then that's all that matters."
"Is it? I think I'm supposed to want more than a small apartment, an old car, and a job that barely pays the rent and is boring as hell half the time."
"I don't think you have a lack of ambition, Alicia; I just think it's focused on your passion and not on your day job. But the world needs art, and you provide it. There's nothing wrong with that."
"I'm not getting rich."
"I don't get the feeling that money means that much to you."
"I guess it doesn't. I want to have enough to live comfortably, but I've never had any dreams of rolling in a lot of cash. Not that I'd turn the money down if it came my way." She paused. "What about you, Michael? Have you achieved all your dreams?"
"I'm doing well," he said, an odd note in his voice.
She shifted in her seat. "You think you could be doing better?"
"Isn't that always true for everyone?"
"I'm not talking about everyone; I'm talking about you. I bared my soul, Michael. Your turn."
"You didn't have to bare your soul. That's on you."
"Come on. Do you have some secret ambition that no one knows about?"
"If I did, why would I tell you?"
"Because we're sharing," she said pointedly.
"All right. I like what I do now, and I see lots of areas that I would like to get better at. Someday I'd like to run my own jobs, be my own boss."
"Would that require you breaking away from your grandfather? I would think you would be in line to inherit his company."
"I'm in line, but only if I prove myself a thousand times over, and believe me, my grandfather is my harshest critic. Even if I did inherit his company, it would still be his. I'd like to have something that's all mine."
"Would you turn it down then?"
He sighed. "I don’t know that I could, but I'd also like to design something, not just build to someone else's plan. A long time ago, I thought I might be an architect, but my grandfather thought construction management would make me a more valuable employee. I can't say it was a bad idea, but there's a part of me that still likes to play around with blueprints."
"You have to feed the creative part of your soul. Maybe you could do both."
"Maybe, but so far I haven't had the time."
"Are you sure time is the problem? Or would actually putting your ideas down on paper make the dream too real? Sometimes it's easier to leave things in a dream state. You never fail if you're just dreaming."
He gave her a thoughtful look. "That's a very smart statement."
"Well, I'm a smart woman," she said lightly.
"You are very intuitive," he agreed.
"Are you complimenting me so that I'll change the subject or do you really believe that?"
He laughed. "Just take it as a compliment."
"Okay, I will. Tell me more about your grandfather. Was he born rich or did he make his own fortune?"
"He was born into money. My great-grandfather was an investment banker. He passed on a considerable fortune when he died to my grandfather and his brother. The Jansens have never been short on money or ambition. My grandfather is a ruthless businessman. He has a lot of hard edges, and he scares the shit out of most people. He has no patience for incompetence or lack of drive. He has high expectations for everyone around him."
"It sounds like you're meeting those expectations."
"Some days. Not always." He glanced over at her. "We've spent enough time talking about my family. We're almost to your mom's house. Tell me what I'm about to walk into."
She let out a little sigh. "A lot of drama."
"Just remember this visit isn't only about you and your mom. We need her help."
"I'll try to remember that, but I make no promises. My mom and I seem to butt heads with the least provocation."
"I'll try to be a buffer."
"That would make you a brave or stupid man. Getting between a mother and a daughter can be risky business."
"I'll take my chances."
"Well, hopefully, you won't need to get involved. I just want to ask my mother about Professor Bryer and make this visit as short as possible."
Fourteen
Alicia would not get her wish for a short visit, Michael realized about five minutes after they walked through her mother's front door.
After brief introductions, Joanna Monroe waved them into the kitchen and started pulling steaks out of the freezer, telling them she'd been planning to barbecue and was so happy not to be eating alone for a change.
Alicia had given him a dismayed, pleading look, but it was too soon for an intervention. He wanted Joanna on their side so that
she would be happy to give them all the information she had on the professor's murder, and that wouldn't happen if she got pissed off at Alicia right from the start.
"Mom, you really don't have to cook for us," Alicia protested.
"Actually, I was hoping Michael might throw these on the grill for me. I do love a man who knows how to barbecue."
"I could do that," he said, picking up on her obvious cue. "I'm not an expert, but I'd be happy to cook for you, Mrs. Monroe."
"Please call me Joanna," she said with a warm smile. "You know, I can't remember the last time Alicia brought a man into this house. I think she was a teenager. And it was probably that awful Vincent Maloney." She shuddered. "That boy had tattoos of skulls on his arms."
"It was one tattoo on one arm," Alicia corrected. "And, Michael, you don't have to barbecue. We really just came here to talk to you, Mom."
"It's been so long since we've had dinner together, Alicia. Surely you haven't come all the way to Texas not to have an extra hour or two for your mother."
Joanna gave Alicia a pointed look that shot down whatever protest might be coming next.
As the two women stared at each other, Michael was struck by how alike and yet how dissimilar they were. They were both the same height with slender builds, but Joanna had short blonde hair and light green eyes that suggested Alicia's dark hair and dark eyes came from her father's side of the family. Joanna also had a sharper edge to her tone, more angles in her thin face. He had the sense she was always in control of every situation, including this one.
"Of course we have time to have dinner with you," Michael said, stepping into what was becoming a tense silence. "Alicia has told me how much she's missed you. This will be a great opportunity for you both to catch up."
Joanna's eyes softened with happiness at his words, while Alicia sent him a dagger of a look. But in the end, Alicia stepped up to the plate.
"Michael is right, Mom. This would be a good time to catch up. I'd love to have dinner with you."
"Excellent. I know Dani has a meeting tonight, but maybe I can get Jake to come over. He's usually happy to have someone cook for him."
"Great." It would probably be easier with her brother in the mix.
"I'll give him a call." Joanna glanced around the kitchen. "I must have left my phone in the bedroom. I'll be right back."
"You are such a kiss ass," Alicia told him when her mother left the room.
"You want her to help us, don't you?"
"But dinner with my mom and maybe my brother, too? It's a lot of time to waste."
"Hopefully, it won't be wasted." He paused, seeing her rub her forehead with her hand. Her bruise had faded but there was still slight discoloration on her temple. "Headache?"
"It seems to occur whenever I get within six feet of my mother."
"She seems nice."
"She is nice. And I love her, but she also drives me crazy. She has an opinion on everything that I do."
"Better to have an overinvolved parent than one who doesn't care."
"I just hate it when she makes me doubt myself, which is most of the time."
He smiled, thinking her mother had spooked Alicia more than the lightning she chased. Apparently, Alicia's gutsy fearlessness hit a brick wall when it came to Joanna Monroe.
"If Jake does come tonight, you'll easily be able to see the difference in how my mother treats the son who can do no wrong and her youngest daughter who does everything wrong. And the thing is—Jake isn't perfect. He screws up all the time, but she doesn't see it. Or if she does see it and tries to get on him about something, he just cracks a joke and makes her laugh and all is forgotten."
He gave her a reassuring smile. "It's going to be fine, Alicia. You need to chill."
She shot him a dark look. "I'm going to tell you that the next time we see your father and you get all uptight and twitchy."
"I don't get twitchy."
"You definitely do. In fact, you've relaxed a lot since we left Miami. Maybe Florida has the same effect on you as Texas has on me."
"Maybe we both need to realize that we're giving our families and our pasts too much power over us."
"Perhaps."
Alicia had no opportunity to say more as her mother reentered the kitchen with her phone in her hand.
"Jake said he'd love to come," Joanna said with a happy smile. "He'll be here in about thirty minutes."
"Great," Alicia muttered.
"Why don't we let the steaks thaw? We'll get some drinks and go out on the deck. It's a lovely afternoon." Joanna opened the refrigerator. "I have white wine, lemonade or water." She glanced back at them. "I'm sorry I don't have beer or anything stronger. I can ask Jake to pick up something on his way over if you like."
"Lemonade sounds good to me," Michael replied, thinking he preferred to keep his wits about him anyway.
She took a pitcher out of the fridge. "Alicia, why don't you get the glasses, and we'll go outside?"
"All right," Alicia answered, opening the cabinet.
As Alicia pulled out the glasses, he followed her mother onto the back deck. Joanna had thought the weather was lovely; he thought it was hot. The temperature was at least in the high 80s but the humidity wasn't as bad as what he'd experienced in Florida all summer. Still, he was happy to see a large shade umbrella over a table on the redwood deck.
The yard was beautifully landscaped, the deck stepping down to a lawn area with colorful flowerbeds and an oak tree, under which hung a decorative bird feeder.
They sat down at the table. Joanna poured the lemonade into glasses and then passed them around.
The cold lemonade was perfect. "This hits the spot," he said, loving the icy tang that cooled his parched throat.
"I'm glad." Joanna turned to her daughter. "So are you going to tell me why you're here in Texas without so much as a five-minute notice, Alicia? I thought you swore you wouldn't be back to this town unless someone was dying," she said with a roll of her eyes.
Alicia grimaced. "I don't think I put it exactly like that, Mom."
"I think you did," Joanna said, not backing down.
"Well, things changed."
"Like what?"
Alicia drew in a breath. He could see the wheels spinning behind her gaze. She was debating how much to tell her mother. He had a feeling the less information, the better. He didn't want the conversation to get derailed by a mother's concern for her daughter.
"I'm helping Michael investigate the disappearance of a good friend of his," Alicia said. "The woman disappeared in Miami, but she was working here in Corpus Christi before that. We came here to see what we could find out about her life, her job, and her friends."
He blew out a breath, relieved that she'd left out the lightning and the fact that he was a suspect.
"Well," her mother said, surprise in her eyes. "I must say I wasn't expecting you to say anything like that. I'm sorry about your friend, Michael."
"Thanks. Alicia thought you might be able to help us."
"Really? How on earth could I do that?"
"My friend, Liliana Valdez is a JAG lawyer working out of the naval station here in Corpus Christi. She's been reviewing the appeal of a murder conviction. One of the victims was Professor Thomas Bryer."
"Oh," Joanna said, sitting back in her seat, a gleam in her eyes. "Now I understand. You want to know what happened to Thomas."
"Did you know the professor?" Michael asked.
"Yes, of course. He'd been at the university for more than a decade. He was a very well-liked and well-respected teacher. A brilliant man, really. His murder was shocking and sad."
"Did you know his wife or the woman who was also killed?" Alicia interjected.
"I had met Melissa Bryer several times at faculty functions, but I didn't know her well. She was away a lot."
"What about the other woman—Connie Randolph?"
Joanna shook her head. "I had never heard of her until the day they found her body next to Thomas."
&nbs
p; "Were you surprised that there was another woman?" Michael asked. "Was Thomas the kind of man to have affairs?"
She hesitated. "I can't say that I know that much about his personal life. He did have a reputation for being a ladies' man, and certainly there were a lot of coeds who flirted with him. I think he was rated very high on the student website called Hot Teacher." Joanna gave them a dry smile. "Thomas was attractive in a scholarly way. He had that absentminded professor air about him. He often let his hair grow too long or didn't shave for a few days when he got lost in a project. There were women who found that sexy."
"Do you think his wife was capable of killing him?" Alicia asked.
Joanna gave a noncommittal shrug. "She was a soldier. She was used to guns. It seemed like an ironclad case from what I read in the newspapers and heard around the campus. But you said she's appealing her conviction?"
Alicia nodded. "Yes, and Michael's friend apparently thought there was some basis for appeal. Then she went missing."
Joanna's brows knit together. "Do you believe that the two events are connected?"
"We don't know," Alicia answered. "But it's one theory."
"And you're getting in the middle of this? It sounds dangerous, Alicia." A worried look entered Joanna's eyes as she set down her glass of lemonade. "Should I even bother asking you to drop this, to let the police handle whatever investigation is going on?"
"The police are handling it, Mom. We're just asking a few questions on our own. It's been two months since Liliana vanished. The case has gone cold. Anything we can find out will only help."
"But if you ask the wrong people these questions, you could be in danger. Two people have already died, and if you don't think the professor's wife was their killer, then that person is still out there. I don't like this, Alicia. I don't like it at all." Joanna turned her gaze on Michael, her friendliness cooling. "Why did you get Alicia involved in this? She's a photographer. She's not a police officer or a detective."
"He didn't drag me into this. I volunteered," Alicia said.
"Why on earth would you do that? Are you two involved? What's going on?"
Beautiful Storm (Lightning Strikes Book 1) Page 14