“You probably should have.”
Jules laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I smiled. “It couldn’t have just been Cassie and Del that changed me.”
“I don’t think it was.” She pushed way from the table. “I think your mom had a lot to do with it. She hated our friendship because I’m not in a country club or whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “And God knows she hates that Scott loves me. Your dad seems cool with it, or at least he’s good at pretending that he is. Anyway, you became just like your mom. I really don’t know how Scott turned out so different.” She let go of her ponytail, flinging it over her shoulder as she grabbed her bag. “You acted like your parents, Sam. They’d do anything to make themselves look good. Even if it meant lying to save face, which is what you did when the pics went live. You acted just like them, and I’m sure that if your mom thought she could get away with killing me and stashing my body somewhere to ensure her son was no longer dating a commoner, she would.”
I wanted to laugh, but I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not.
Chapter nineteen
Mom was waiting for me when I got home after school, crystal wine goblet in hand. From the displeased twist of her lips, I knew this wasn’t going to be good. Going to the small sitting room, I dropped my bag on the couch and flopped down.
She followed. “Del’s mother called me this afternoon.”
Picking up a magazine, I pretended to have no idea what she was talking about. “Did you guys have a nice chat?”
“Not really,” she said, sitting in the leather chair. “She told me that Scott hit him? And that you broke up with him? I assured her that all this must be a misunderstanding.”
I made a face. “Are you not even curious why Scott hit him?” I watched her sip from her glass and felt a surge of anger. “He wouldn’t leave. That was after I tried to break up with him and found out about those pictures, Mom.”
Her hand trembled as she set the glass down on the small table beside her. “Samantha…”
Twisting toward her, I wanted her to understand where I was coming from. Maybe I wanted her to see me for who I was now. “Mom, I didn’t know he took those pictures. And I wasn’t okay with it.”
She blinked, smoothing her linen pants with a hand. “That’s good to know. I’d hate to believe that you were okay with something so…trashy.”
Trashy wasn’t the only word I would have gone for. Disgusting. Violating. “Then you have to understand why I can’t be with him.”
“Honey, what he did was wrong, but he made a mistake. Everyone does.”
Shocked into silence, I stared at her.
Running her fingers along the gold bangles circling her wrists, she sat straight and stiff in the seat. “Your father—he’s made mistakes. And we wouldn’t have been married for so long if neither of us learned how to forgive.”
Gradually, I came out of my stupor. “Del took pictures of me giving him a blow—”
“I understand that, Samantha.” Her nose wrinkled. “But this incident happened so long ago. And I’m sure he feels terrible about it. He has to feel terrible about it.”
“I really don’t care if he feels terrible,” I admitted, and wondered if I should feel bad for that. “I can’t believe you’d ever be okay with me being with him after that.”
My mom sighed. “I’m not okay with the fact that he did that, Samantha, but he’s young and he’s a male. God knows this won’t be the last stupid choice he makes in his life.”
“It will be the last stupid choice he makes that involves me!”
She ignored that. “You have every reason to be upset with him. I don’t blame you for that, but I think you should talk with him. His mom and I were saying that after…well, after everything, both of you could use some time to get reacquainted without all these outside influences confusing you.”
I thought there was a good chance that when I had left school that day, I had veered straight into crazy land. Part of me wanted to laugh at the absurdity of my mom defending Del for doing something so vile, but the other part of me, the huge part, was stuck somewhere between being ticked off and being disturbed.
“Outside influences confusing me?” I said finally.
She nodded. “Well, with Cassie and your memory, it’s understandable that it would take some time before you—”
“Why do you want me to be with Del so badly?” I cut her off. “I don’t get it. Is this normal? Do moms usually get this involved?”
Something flashed in her eyes, gone too quickly before I could name it. “It’s important to your father and me that you are involved with someone who can take care of you and is of your same…stature.”
There was more to it. I knew it, but like everything else, it was too far out of reach. Uncertain if it even mattered, I let it drop. “Mom, I’m not getting back with Del. I’m pretty much disgusted with him on a cellular level.”
Picking up her glass, she watched me over the rim. “You haven’t been spending any time with your friends.”
“My friends are assholes.”
“Samantha!” she exclaimed, staring at me as if I’d brandished a knife.
I fought a smile. “It’s true. And you can forget about me patching things up with them, too.”
“I think you’re exaggerating.” She finished off her glass and smiled. It didn’t crack the cool beauty of her face. “You always had a tendency to do that.”
“They’re calling me Insanity Sam and insinuating that I had something to do with what happened to Cassie.” Mom flinched. Maybe I should’ve softened the blow of my social downfall. Too late now. “So, yeah, I’m not exaggerating.”
She opened her mouth but seemed to think twice before speaking. I studied her in this rare moment when she actually appeared to be thinking something instead of drinking and being disappointed with me.
I stiffened.
As soon as the last thought had formed, I felt that wave of familiarity and a surge of distress. At once I knew I’d been in this position before with her. Not wanting her to be disappointed and not knowing how to make that happen or if I even could make it happen.
Stupid tears burned the back of my eyes, and I cast my gaze down. Her free hand was closed in a fist. Her knuckles were white. My throat tightened. “I know you’re disappointed—”
“No, honey, I’m not.” She rose and sat beside me, but I still didn’t look up, because I wasn’t sure if she was lying.
And like a piece of a puzzle clicking together, I suddenly knew her disappointment wasn’t directed just at me, but at herself, too. It was something that I must’ve known before that night on the cliff.
“Honey, I just want the best for you. That’s all.” She paused, brushing a sheet of my hair back from my face. “And you’re heading down a path I’m not sure is going to be best for you. Breaking up with Del, alienating your friends…”
I shook my head. “Those were the right decisions, Mom.”
She hesitated. “And you’ve been hanging out with Carson a lot, haven’t you?”
My head jerked up, and she quickly removed her hand. “So?”
“His father is cleaning your father’s office for extra money, Samantha. Not exactly dating material.”
“Well, I’m not dating his father, now, am I?” I snapped. This whole argument was ridiculous. “I’m not even dating Carson.”
“But you like him.”
“Yes. I do like him, Mom. I don’t get why you have such a problem with that. You married Dad!” Her eyes widened. I had her. “He didn’t have money.”
“Your father was at Yale when I met him. That was different.”
“How so?” I demanded. “He still didn’t have money, and Carson is going to Penn State.”
She didn’t answer immediately, and when she did, it was not what I’d expected. “Your father…he swept me off my feet, Samantha.” A far-off look came to her eyes, and the mask she wore slipped away. I could almost imagine what she must’ve been like when she met my dad. “We met on accident, at a party, and he wasn’t like any guy I was used to. And because of where he went to college, I assumed…well, I assumed he was like me. My father wasn’t happy when the truth came out, and maybe I should’ve…”
Maybe she should’ve listened to her father? Mom didn’t say that, but I knew that was what she was thinking, and I wasn’t sure how to really respond to that.
Taking a small breath, she shook her head. “You deserve someone who can give you the world, someone who can stand on his own. Do you understand me?”
I think I did. “But money doesn’t give you the world, Mom. Not everything.”
She opened her mouth, but a door creaked somewhere in the house. My father’s footsteps were heavy and quick. Mom turned to the door, and the moment he entered, his dark brows furrowed and jaw clenched, I knew this was bad.
“What is it, Steven?” Mom asked, standing, once more cool and aloof as ever.
Dad glanced at her and then me. His hair looked as if he’d run his fingers through it a lot, like it had been the day he walked into the hospital room. “Joanna, I don’t want you to panic. Everything is going to be okay. This is just procedure.”
She folded her thin arms across her chest. “That isn’t a very reassuring opening statement.”
“We need to take Samantha down to the police station,” he said, his gaze darting back to me, and he smiled. My throat dried. “Detective Ramirez has questions, and Lincoln is already there waiting.”
The buzzing in my ears canceled out whatever my mom said. Lincoln was the family lawyer.
I swallowed hard as I stood on weak legs. “Dad,” I croaked.
He was in front of me, clasping my shoulders gently. “It’s okay. They just want to ask you questions.”
“But they’ve already asked me questions, over and over. And they never made me go down there before.” I peered over his shoulder. Mom had drifted off to the side, her fingers pressed against each of her temples.
“I don’t want her going in there alone,” Mom said, surprising me. “I will go—”
“No.” Dad’s shoulders squared. “Stay here. I will handle this.”
“But why do I have to go there?” I asked.
Again, he tried to smile. “Because that’s how they do things by the book, honey. It’s better if we seem as if we have nothing to hide.”
“We don’t have anything to hide.” Before, when Ramirez had been here, my father hadn’t been the least bit willing to discuss anything with the detective. Something had changed.
The interrogation room was nothing like what I’d seen on all the television shows. There wasn’t a one-way glass mirror, just a really small room with four walls devoid of any decorations and a table with three chairs.
Thomas Lincoln, lawyer extraordinaire, sat beside me. Detective Ramirez studied us from across the table. There was a notepad in front of him and a pen he kept twitching in his hand. I couldn’t stop staring at it. In front of my lawyer was the warrant for the search that was taking place right now. Cops were combing the house, messing with my mom’s fine china.
She was probably stroking out right now.
I knew I was close to doing the same, especially when Dad stayed outside the room. He was allowed in, but Lincoln strongly advised against it.
All I could think about were those notes, but they were in my bag, which was with me. How in the world could I explain them if they decided to search that? Oh yeah, I have no idea who’s leaving these notes, but they’re weird, right? Yeah, not good.
“Are you going to read Samantha her rights?” Lincoln asked, leaning back in his chair.
Ramirez tapped the pen off the pad. “I only have a few questions, and unless Miss Franco admits to anything, I don’t see the need for that.”
Hope sparked in my chest.
“Oh, I see. You just wanted her out of the house so it could be searched,” Lincoln said. “Then, if you find something, she’s already here.”
My hope crashed and burned a fiery death.
The detective ignored that, turning his dark, tired eyes on me. I doubted they had a lot of teenage murder suspects around here. It had to be getting to him. “Before I get to some questions that I have, has there been anything that you’ve remembered or discovered since the last time we talked?”
Telling Ramirez that my friends and ex-boyfriend were asshats probably wasn’t what he was looking for. “Nothing,” I said, telling only a half lie. Anything that I’d remembered wasn’t concrete and hardly made any sense. “But I’ve been trying. I’ve gone to Cassie’s house and—”
Lincoln touched my arm. “Samantha, you don’t have to tell him that.”
I sat back and folded my arms.
Ramirez glanced at the lawyer, his nostrils flaring as if he smelled something bad. “Miss Franco, you can finish.”
“I suggest you don’t,” Lincoln said.
Confused, I glanced between the two men. “It’s not a big deal. I went to Cassie’s house once, and I even went to the lake and the cliff.” Lincoln stiffened beside me, but seriously, I hadn’t done anything wrong by going to those places. “I was hoping they’d spark some kind of memory, but they didn’t.”