On the other hand, she had things to be grateful for. She had insurance, which would cover some of it. And she could’ve been home, and hurt, when whoever it was broke in and trashed her place.
“You’re not eating much. Again,” he said. “You’re just picking at that burger.”
His pointed frown encouraged her to take another big bite. “I’m making progress.”
Rocking back, he rested his elbows on top of the booth. “Hard to believe Leanne didn’t see or hear anything last night, don’t you think? She lives so close.”
Two teenage girls came in, spotted Isaac and began to whisper and giggle. As a local celebrity, he drew stares wherever he went. She wondered if he hated that as much as she thought he would but she was too dejected to bring it up. He seemed to ignore the attention.
“It probably happened while she was asleep,” she said. “And once she’s asleep…I don’t think anything disturbs her. There’s a strong possibility that she was drunk.”
“Your sister drinks that much?”
She squirted ketchup on her fries. “I don’t know if she passes out. I’m just saying she’s been drinking more than I want to admit.”
“Why is she so opposed to reopening your mother’s case?”
Claire knew where he was going with this. He didn’t care for Leanne. That had become apparent at the house. He guessed she had a secret to hide, and he was right. Loyalty made it impossible for Claire to reveal exactly what that fifteen-year-old secret was. She wasn’t willing to talk about a p**n ographic video starring her baby sister. But she had to give him some reason his instincts were on alert, so he’d know that she understood why Leanne was acting so strange about the past.
“She did something she regrets, but it’s got nothing to do with my mother’s disappearance.” Here she was, echoing her father’s opinion—ironic, since she’d blasted him for saying the same thing.
But she didn’t know how else to approach this and still be loyal to her sister.
“Something she regrets…” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“You’re not going to tell me what?”
She couldn’t get any more food down. Pushing her plate away, she reached for her water instead. “I can’t. It’s…very personal and embarrassing. Nothing I’d ever want to become public.”
“I wouldn’t tell anyone. I hope you realize that.”
“I do.” She knew he could be discreet. It was more than that. “She wouldn’t want you to hear about this. But you’re right in believing she’s withholding some information, because she is.”
“What’s the nature of this information?”
“I can’t even tell you that much. Really. I’d be mortified if I’d done what she did.”
“It doesn’t have to do with your mother?”
“Not…directly,” she hedged.
“Is it something you wouldn’t want a private investigator digging up?”
“Excuse me?”
Leaning forward again, he helped himself to her fries. “I’ve hired someone, Claire.”
She blinked at him. “For what?”
“To pursue your mother’s case.”
“But… When did you do that? I’ve been with you all day.”
“I made the decision yesterday.”
Before her house was trashed? “But…I can’t let you do that. Private investigators are expensive. And we tried that route.”
“Some are better than others. And you don’t have to pay.”
“I don’t even know when I’d be able to reimburse you.”
“That’s not a problem. I’m only telling you because she’s going to be digging to find everything she can. If your sister has a deep dark secret, it might not be a secret much longer. Will that be a problem?”
Claire squirmed at the thought of Leanne’s indiscretion going public, which would happen if the P.I. found something, or there’d be no point in having her search in the first place. She’d have to report any evidence to the police. Could she allow such a no-holds-barred investigation? If she did, Leanne might not be the only casualty. What if it came out that her mother was on birth control without Tug’s knowledge? Or that Tug and Roni were indeed having an affair?
What if Isaac’s P.I. learned just enough to make everyone look terrible but came up with nothing more?
She’d drag her whole family through the mud for nothing…?.
“How good is she?” she asked.
“The best. She found my mother. And she had almost nothing to go on.”
This was a revelation Claire had never expected Isaac to share with her. His background was pretty much off-limits and always had been. He certainly never spoke of the woman who’d abandoned him.
Distracted from her own misery, she watched him carefully. “Where is she?”
“Dead.”
He showed no emotion, but he had to feel something. She wanted to know what had happened, why his mother had done what she’d done. But asking just to appease her curiosity would be far too intrusive. “I’m sorry.”
A muscle flexed in his cheek. “Your mother’s dead, too. I’m convinced of it. But she deserves justice. And you deserve answers.”
“I want answers, but…I have to ask myself—at what price?”
“That’s for you to decide. I’ll pay for the P.I. as long as you can live with what she finds. Could you tolerate seeing your sister or your stepfather or someone else you love going to prison?”
“You think the person who killed her is that close to me?”
“After what April told you? In my mind, there’s no question.”
Jeremy Salter cleared his throat. He was standing at their table. Claire had been so engrossed in the conversation she hadn’t paid any attention to his approach, but she shouldn’t have been surprised. Jeremy had had a crush on her since they were children. He always gravitated toward her, no matter where they were. “Can I get you any more ketchup or…or a refill of your soda, Claire?” he asked.
She managed a smile. “No, thanks.”
He put some extra napkins at her elbow. “I—I’m sorry to hear about the, um, fall you took at the studio. I’m really sorry. Very sorry.”
Claire fingered the stitches above her ear. She needed to see Dr. Hunt to have them removed. “Thanks, Jeremy. I appreciate that.”