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Flynn's expression tightened. "No. I didn't check her room."
"Why not?" she challenged.
He stared back at her, his blue eyes darkening. "I don't know."
She was surprised by his answer. "You don't?"
"Maybe it was one door too many for me to open," he admitted.
She almost felt bad for challenging him, because there was no denying the hurt in his gaze.
"But I need to get in there," he said quickly. "And in every other room in this house. You asked about my relationship to Arthur. He was good to me when I was dating Olivia, and after she died, he basically helped me keep my head above water. He was there for me in a way that no one else was."
"What about your own parents?"
"My mom was working. My dad wasn't around. But Arthur was there. He was in pain, too. We supported each other, but it went beyond that. Arthur convinced me to go to college, to make something of my life. If he hadn't been around, I probably could have ruined my life in a lot of different ways. That's why I owe him, why I need to find his killer."
"That makes sense. I am surprised, though, given your relationship, why I've never heard of you before. You weren't at Arthur's wedding or his sixty-fifth birthday last month. Yet, you were there last night. Was that a coincidence?"
"No," he said, surprising her once more. "Arthur asked me to meet him. He said he needed some help, a favor."
"What did he want you to do?"
"I don't know. He wanted to speak to me after the exhibit opened."
"I wonder what he wanted."
"It's driving me crazy," Flynn admitted.
Looking at him now, he didn't seem so much like a terrifying FBI agent who could put her mother in jail but more like a man with his own guilt to assuage, his own demons to battle. And she found herself wanting to trust him, because she needed to trust someone.
"For the police, the other agents, this is just a case," he continued. "It's more than that for me. I'll be honest with you; your mother is a target right now. The video is concerning, her behavior is alarming, and you need to help me find a clue that takes this investigation in another direction."
"I would like to do that; I just don't know as much as you think I do."
"Or you might know more than you realize. Sometimes a detail seems insignificant, but it's part of a bigger picture. Will you help me?"
Before she could answer, the doorbell rang. "That must be Dr. Clarke. I need to deal with my mother's situation first."
"I understand. We'll talk again. I'm not going anywhere."
His promises always sounded threatening, but she couldn't worry about Flynn. She couldn't help him, until she helped her mother.
Chapter Five
Callie heldher breath as Dr. Clarke examined her mother. While he was able to rouse her from sleep, she was still very confused as to what was going on. She did remember that Arthur was dead. But she couldn't remember going out on the balcony and trying to climb over the railing. She also had no idea what day or time it was.
With each bewildered, rambling answer, Callie's concern grew. This was just like the last time. Her mom was losing her grip on reality, lost in a sea of pain, and she was going to need professional help to get out of it. Or she could spiral away to a place that no one else would be able to get to.
She hated Arthur's killer even more now. Because that person hadn't just taken Arthur's life; he might have also taken her mother's.
Unless her mother had been the one to somehow shove Arthur over that railing?
She hadn't seen her mom in the grand hall when the exhibition started, and she'd wondered where she was, but she'd assumed she was tending to some other aspect of the event.
She also couldn't see how her mother could have gotten Arthur over the railing. She wasn't very strong. And she wouldn't have been able to hide what she'd done so well. She couldn't be guilty of killing him.
When Dr. Clarke finished his examination, he motioned for Callie to follow him into the hall. The somber light in his eyes didn't give her much confidence for an optimistic diagnosis.