Page 45 of Wasted

“Yes.” She pinched her lips together. “And no.” She folded her arms across her sweater. “He said he wanted to talk to me. It was very strange.”

“What was?” Robert’s tone was so calm and gentle, she didn’t even think before continuing.

“The day before, he acted so peculiar. He kept saying he couldn’t trust anyone, that he only trusted me. And he said he would explain when I returned the next morning.” She brought her gaze to Robert.

She knew that look. The wheels were clicking in his intelligent mind, reflected in his eyes. She had probably said too much, which often seemed to be the case around Robert. He’d definitely chosen the right profession in psychiatry.

“You think it wasn’t an accident like they reported on the news.” His eyebrows lowered as he watched her. “You think it was murder.”

Astute, as usual. She’d always had her work cut out for her keeping ahead of Robert’s deductions and cleverness when he was a child. Praise the Lord, Robert had been too focused on academic pursuits and feeding his thirst for knowledge to get into any significant trouble. “Yes.”

“Have you told the police?”

“I have, and they disagree. Quite emphatically.”

“Really?” His eyebrows reversed direction.

“Yes. Despite the evidence w—” she stopped herself just in time and quickly continued, “…I found. I told them all the details, but they are determined Thomas’s death was accidental.” She forced herself to hold Robert’s gaze so as not to make another obvious blunder. She was still recovering from being knocked down by the intruder at Thomas’s home. She was in no mood to explain Cillian to her younger brother at the moment.

Something flickered in Robert’s eyes. He’d noticed the slip. “Well, I’m glad you told them. It’s strange they wouldn’t be open to considering other theories.” Was he going to let it go without question? It appeared so.

She nodded, tension still pinching her chest. She shouldn’t have tried to hide the we once she’d started to say it. Now he would make something even more significant out of her avoidance. “I think so, too. But they did say an autopsy is standard in deaths like these, so my hope is those results will prove that he was killed.”

Her words bounced back at her. “Not that I want something so tragic to be true, of course. But I do want justice for Thomas if he was indeed the victim of a crime.”

“I know, Vicki. You cared for him.” Something about Robert’s understanding tone and the reflection of sadness in his own eyes formed a lump in her throat.

“Yes.” She managed to speak around the swelling. “I did.” She blinked back the oncoming tears that pricked her eyes. She’d made it a point never to cry in front of the children. Not since their mother’s funeral. They needed to be able to depend on her strength and fortitude, not the other way around.

“I don’t mean to pry, Vicki.” He paused. His tone signaled he was about to say something she wouldn’t like.

She tensed. Was he going to ask who the we was that she had referred to and why she’d tried to hide the slip?

“But I saw this while you were making the coffee.” He went toward the doorway of the kitchen and reached for something on the counter there.

Oh, no. The?—

He held up the threatening note.

How had she forgotten she’d left it there?

“Is someone threatening you?”

She swallowed, staring at the paper in his raised hand. “The police believe it’s a harmless prank.”

“The same police who don’t think Thomas Briscoe was murdered?”

She met Robert’s gaze. “The same.”

“Then we both know they’re probably wrong.” His eyes darkened. “Do you know who this is, threatening you?” A rare edge lined his tone.

“No. But you don’t need to be concerned. You have your own life to focus on. Didn’t you say you were having issues with Dr. Jackson?” The contentious psychiatrist who shared office space with Robert seemed a perfect way out of this conversation.

“Vicki, you don’t need to always be a mom anymore. We’re grown now. Grown enough that we can help you, too.”

Leave it to Robert to shoot an arrow right into the heart of a matter.

But a mother’s job was never done. Even if she wasn’t the actual mother of her siblings, her mom would’ve wanted them to still have a mother’s love and help into adulthood. For all of their lives, if possible.