Tell Her No Lies Page 7

  Aaron slowed. The engine of his 4Runner heaved and sputtered. “It looks like Channels 4 and 5 are camped out. They’re probably hungry for an interview with your mother. I’ll pull around back so you don’t have to deal with them.”

  Nina nodded, laid her head back, and inhaled the familiar scent of Aaron’s stuff. He’d driven the same vehicle since their senior year in college when his Datsun pickup truck died, and they held a small, sad ceremony for it at the junkyard where he sold it for parts. She still had photos of that junkyard. This car smelled of french fries, motor oil, and newspaper, just like the old one. For some reason, that fact comforted her.

  This had been the longest day ever and it wasn’t over yet. Facing Grace would be the worst part of it, next to finding her father dead on the floor of his study. They should take off, keep driving and driving until they reached the ocean. But it wasn’t done. Fischers didn’t run. They didn’t hide. Nina had no intention of being the first.

  As the wide drive curved around the house, the backyard came into view. In the growing dusk, her mother knelt in a flower bed next to several flats of purple, pink, and white pansies. Peanuts lay nearby, keeping her company. His head popped up and he rose to his feet, prepared to greet newcomers. Always the friendly cocker spaniel, but not much of a guard dog. Grace didn’t glance up at the sound of the car, either engrossed in her task or ignoring it. With Grace, it could be either. She was good at ignoring those things she didn’t want to face.

  “What’s she doing?” Aaron braked to a crawl, then stopped. “It’s too wet and muddy to be gardening.”

  “Nothing keeps Grace from gardening.”

  Especially when she was upset. Why would she be upset? She wanted out of a thirty-five-year marriage. She’d gotten her way without a messy divorce or division of property. Did they have a prenuptial? Probably not. He’d been fresh out of law school and she’d been a middle school English teacher when they met. She would’ve had to fight for the earnings from her three dozen or more novels and the three Hallmark movies.

  Stop it. Stop it. Nina shoved away the parade of ugly thoughts that had marched through her head since Aaron made his announcement. Her parents loved each other, and they had taken vows. They would never break those vows. Aaron was wrong. He’d made a mistake.

  “Nina?”

  She glanced at Aaron. His concern flowed over her like a warm hug. Nina shrugged. “It’s how she copes. You can drop me off. I’ll take it from here.”

  Aaron put the car in Park. “I’m not leaving you. When will you figure that out? I’m not that guy. I don’t leave.”

  He’d stuck around for seven years. Sure, he’d dated over the years. He used to regale her with tales of first dates and blind dates gone wrong. When had he stopped telling those stories? It had been a while. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not.”

  “I’m sure you have work to do.”

  “I thought we finished that discussion. I’m sorry about this morning.”

  He’d apologized a dozen times on the drive home. “That’s not what I meant. I know it must be hard for you to compartmentalize.”

  “I would never do anything”—his husky voice dropped another notch—“to . . . hurt you.”

  Doing his job might demand that he hurt her. The murder of a district court judge was big news in any TV market, but especially in San Antonio where “if it bleeds, it leads” was the number-one rule of journalism. “It’s an unusual situation. Let’s leave it at that.”

  They sat without speaking, watching Grace putter with her trowel, the chirping of crickets punctuated by the ticking of the hot engine. Aaron pulled the key from the ignition. “I’ve always wondered. Why do you call her Grace? She adopted you, too, like Geoffrey did.”

  “I have a mother. A mother I remember.” The old familiar pain lodged between Nina’s shoulders and made her neck and chest hurt like a terrible cold. “I didn’t know how to be around a mother who acted like a real mother. The word didn’t have good connotations for me. So Grace told me it was okay to call her by her name. I liked it. Grace. She was Grace.”

  “Did you ever in your wildest imagination think she’d leave him?”

  “Never.”

  “My parents were like that. One minute we were a model family getting Yard of the Month Award in our subdivision in Norfolk. The next we were visiting Dad in base housing every other weekend when he wasn’t deployed on some ship in the Persian Gulf.” His voice held a note of surprise as if he still couldn’t believe it after all these years. “My mother couldn’t take being a military wife anymore. That’s what she said. He was gone more than he was with us. Their relationship died a long-distance death.”

  “I can’t fathom it, really.” Nina put her hand on the door, then let it fall back in her lap. “They never fight. I can’t remember a single fight. They were polar opposites, but he doted on her and she loved him. He gave her free rein to write, and he supported her career. She went to his fund-raisers and smiled until her face hurt.”

  “Maybe they drifted apart because their interests were so different.”

  Maybe. Maybe they fought behind closed doors and put on a good front the rest of the time. Maybe they acted like Christians devoted to their spouses because that’s what they wanted people to see. People often did while living lives that fell far short of the ideal.

  Maybe.

  She should get out of the vehicle. She should talk to Grace. Nina didn’t move. Her muscles were weighted by the sheer exhaustion of the past forty-eight hours.

  Aaron’s hand crept across the seat toward her. His enormous fingers were long and brown from a summer of stories shot outdoors. He had a scar across the back of his thumb and baby-fine, carrot-colored hair on his knuckles. The knot in her throat grew. She didn’t dare look at him or the tears would start and there would be no denying them.

  “Nina?”

  Her gaze glued to her own fingers, twisted together in her lap, she nodded.

  His hand covered hers. “Can you look at me?”

  She shook her head, her focus on the strength of his grip and the warmth of his fingers. Her heartbeat did an odd little dance number, a double time that sped up until her heart pounded.

  “I want to help.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you know why?”

  She did know. How could she not? Every female TV reporter in town jockeyed to get close to him at stories, but he never seemed to notice. These days he had eyes for her only. His touch sent a tremor through her body. She swallowed, debating how much she could safely say. Giving voice to such a thought would change their friendship forever. It would set them on a road from which there was no return. She couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen if it didn’t work out. In her experience it almost never did.

  She couldn’t bear the thought of losing that daily wake-up call that generally included the weather, Spurs or Missions stats depending on the sports season under way, and his calendar for the day, followed by the third degree regarding her own plans.

  She couldn’t lose his corny jokes or his astute observation on San Antonio’s steady rise on the national political scene. She couldn’t lose the way the sun brought out the highlights in his auburn hair when they hiked on the Salado Creek Greenway in search of nature shots to offset the grim pessimism of her other obsessions, or the way he snored when he napped in the rocking chair outside her darkroom, Peanuts at his feet, Daffy on his lap, waiting for her next masterpiece to present itself.

  She had lost so much. She couldn’t lose him too.

  She shook her head.

  He sighed and gripped her fingers in a tight squeeze, then let go, leaving a shocking chill behind. “Trust is a choice. Do you believe that God is good?”

  “Do we have to do this now?”

  “You can trust Him. I promise you.”

  She snorted. “How can you say that? Let’s review. My mother dragged my sister and me around Miami to cheap motels so she could meet
up with strange men. We lived in a car. Then we lived in a tent city where she abandoned us. We got picked up by social services and spent a year living in foster homes.”

  “And then you came here and things got better.”

  “And you want me to believe that was God at work?”

  “I believe He works for our good in all things. Scripture says so.” Aaron scooted around in the seat to face her. “Do you ever examine why you feel such a passion for helping people who are experiencing homelessness?”

  The fact that he used that phrase “experiencing homelessness” said he paid attention when she talked about the labels everyone pasted on people who were without homes for myriad reasons. It didn’t define them as human beings.

  “I’ve been there. I know how it feels. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out.”

  “God allows us to go through the fire because it equips us with the tools we need to help others. With compassion and empathy.”

  “There’s got to be an easier way.”

  “I wish there were.” He used one finger to slip her hair from her face. “I wish you could’ve been spared that pain and the fear. But I also know you wouldn’t be who you are now if you hadn’t experienced life on the street. You wouldn’t be the person I . . . care about.”

  Nina leaned into his hand for a second. When Aaron talked about his faith, he made so much sense. He made her want to believe. His words gave her hope that someday all of this would make sense.

  She cleared her throat. “I need to talk to Grace.”

  He withdrew his hand and smiled. “Okay, but do me a favor. Don’t shut me out.”

  “I won’t.” To her relief, her voice didn’t quiver.

  “Do you want me to stay?” His voice had returned to its usual husky timbre with that underpinning of East Coast he couldn’t shake no matter how many years passed.

  “Please.” Knowing he was close by would give her the guts to get through this. She shoved open the SUV door. Her mother didn’t look up. Nina closed it with a soft click. “Grace? Grace!”

  Peanuts hopped up and dashed across the yard to meet her. Grace glanced around, her expression like that of a woman awakening from a long sleep.

  “Nina, sweetheart.” She stumbled to her feet, the picture of a country mistress of the house in her sunflower-covered dress with a full skirt and a skinny belt around her slim waist. Except for the mud that caked her dress and streaked her face. “I’ve been waiting for you. I would’ve come to the police station, but Peter Coggins insisted I stay here. They’re inside talking and making some legal arrangements. I’m amazed at how kind people are in situations like this. Rick picked me up from the airport. Mr. Coggins stopped by to say he’d engaged legal representation for you. He said you’d be back in no time and here you are.”

  Nina bent down and scratched behind Peanuts’s ears. The dog’s tail wagged a hundred miles an hour. “I’m here—”

  “Come. Plant some flowers with me. There’s nothing like getting dirt on your hands to ease sorrow and soothe the soul.”

  Her mother wore gloves. Nina straightened. Peanuts headed to Aaron, who obliged with more ear scratching. “Where did you get the flowers?”

  “I sent Abel to the nursery.”

  The gardener’s workdays were Saturday and Wednesday. “Abel’s here?”

  “I sent for him.” Grace pulled a tissue from a huge pocket on the dress’s bodice. She dabbed at her cheeks and nose with a dainty touch. “The yard needs some sprucing up. People will come to the reception after the funeral service.” Her voice faltered on the last two words.

  Nina picked her way through the sprawling yellow bells and red lantana, fading with the fall weather, sidestepping the flats until she reached her mother. “It’s okay. You should leave this for Abel. You know how irritated he gets when you mess around in his flower beds.”

  “I’m a Fischer by marriage only.” Grace’s voice quivered. “I don’t have to keep a stiff upper lip. Or my chin up or whatever nonsense Geoffrey fed you and Jan from the minute you came into the house.”

  “I know. A cry is also good for the soul.”

  “That’s right—”

  “There you are, Nina. Are you okay?” Rick shoved open the back door and bounded down the porch steps. He had her in a tight hug in the middle of the garden before she could move. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you.”

  “I understand.” His hug had a proprietary feel to it. His hands wandered down her back into forbidden territory. “It wasn’t bad. Detective King kept badgering me about—”

  “Rick, we need to go.” Coggins, the founder and lead partner in Coggins, Gonzalez, and Pope, stood on the porch looking as if he’d just stepped from GQ magazine. His dark-blue suit cost more than six months of Nina’s salary at the paper. He glanced at a gold diamond-encrusted watch most certainly of even greater value. “I have a social engagement with my wife. I trust Fred Teeter is on top of your legal needs, Miss Fischer.”

  “Yes, he was very helpful. I think Detective King might have held me there if it weren’t for Mr. Teeter.”

  “Excellent. Keep us in the loop on your situation.”

  “That’s kind of you.”

  “Your father and I went back a long ways. He was a good man and a good judge. We always knew we would get a fair shake in his courtroom.” Coggins glanced at his watch again. “We really do have to go, Rick. My wife hates being late for these fund-raisers.”

  “I thought I’d stay here—”

  “You’re scheduled to be at the Bexar County Republican Party mixer, aren’t you?”

  Rick’s tanned skin darkened. “That’s right.”

  Coggins’s gaze skipped to Aaron, who’d slid from the 4Runner and stood, keys jingling in his hand, several feet from Nina and Rick. “Who are you?”

  “Aaron McClure.”

  “You work at one of the TV stations. I’ve seen you at the courthouse.”

  “I do.”

  “You need to clear out.”

  “It’s all right, Mr. Coggins.” Grace intervened before Nina could. “Aaron is a friend of Nina’s. He’s here all the time, mixing chemicals and making photos in that darkroom and eating Pearl’s chicken enchiladas in green sauce. I do appreciate your concern, but Aaron is welcome here.”

  The appearance of tough-businesswoman Grace made Nina’s bones melt in relief. To know she was still in there with the southern-belle mistress and the absentminded novelist was a good sign.

  Coggins and Rick frowned simultaneously. Nina caught a glimpse of what Rick would look like twenty or thirty years from now. Coggins lifted one manicured hand and smoothed his close-cropped silver hair. Rick did the same in an unconscious imitation of his boss. For some reason, Nina found herself holding her breath. Her mother hadn’t suggested that Rick stay. Yet she’d come to Aaron’s rescue. Her mother never weighed in on Nina’s romantic choices. Not that there had been many.

  “Of course.” Coggins marched down the steps and over to Grace. He held out his hand and Grace took it like a queen accepting homage from a subject. “I assume you’ll be in touch with your family lawyer shortly. If we can assist in any way, we’re happy to be of service. We can handle contacting the ME’s office to handle the transfer of Geoffrey’s body to the funeral home as soon as possible. If the police come around, let them know they can contact Mr. Teeter’s firm for criminal legal counsel, should you need it.”

  “Thank you for stopping by. Your assistance is greatly appreciated.” Smiling, Grace picked up her trowel. “Please give your wife my regards. We’ve met a few times at public library foundation events.”

  “Of course.” Coggins jerked his head toward a blue Mercedes parked next to the garage and tossed a set of keys at Rick. “You drive. I’ll have Chuy pick up your car later.”

  Rick caught the keys and turned to Nina. “Sorry.” His hands gripped her shoulders. He planted a long, hard kiss on her mouth. His hands moved to her cheeks and held her still. His
lips tasted like cherry lip balm and his breath smelled of coffee and Life Saver mints. Heat curled up her neck and burned its way across her face. She jerked back.

  His eyes opened, and he let one finger trail down to her neck above the collar of her blouse. “I mean it. I’ll call you later.”

  He strode after his boss, doing double time to catch up.

  Breathless, Nina stared after him, her hands on her scorched cheeks. Rick hadn’t kissed her on the lips since they parted ways to go to their separate colleges. Plenty of heated scenes had occurred in the front seat of his old beater in high school, followed by more of the same at the front door under a porch light with a high-powered bulb installed by her dad. But when they’d both returned to San Antonio and their friendship had resumed, she’d intentionally kept him at arm’s length so she could examine her feelings for him with a clear mind. Which had brought no resolutions and resulted in heated exchanges of a different kind.

  Aaron shifted behind her. She turned. He was headed for his SUV. “Don’t go.”

  He glanced back but kept walking. “I don’t want to get in the way.”

  “Aaron.”

  He paused, one hand on the door handle.

  “Could you stop being a horse’s patootie and stick around?” She needed him to stay. She needed him. “Please.”

  “When you put it so elegantly, I suppose so.” His hard gaze followed the Mercedes as it rolled away, its engine making a silky rumble in the quiet evening. “If you’re sure.”

  “Aaron, dear.” Grace’s voice sounded almost timid. The lady of the manor had disappeared with the Mercedes. “Could you do me a favor?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Fischer.”

  “I’ve told you a million times, it’s Grace.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Could you ask Pearl to fix us some of the Mexican hot chocolate with cinnamon and nutmeg that I like? I know it’s early in the season for hot chocolate, but I’ve had a chill all day.”