She ignored Betsy’s sarcastic laugh of disbelief.
“Natalie, wait.”
She heard Liam call out, but she ignored him as she rushed away.
Brigit Kavanaugh waved distractedly at Liam from her kneeling position in her garden.
“Something is eating my lettuce and tomatoes, Chief. I demand answers!” she said with mock imperiousness as she stood.
“If you’re implying my soon-to-be job is going to involve hot pursuits of salad-eating rabbits, you’re not doing much to bolster my confidence about taking it.”
Liam felt a little guilty, given his reason for being there, when his mother laughed in a carefree manner. She didn’t laugh enough, nowadays.
“That sun is fierce. Come on, let’s go in the air-conditioning. I want to talk to you about something,” Liam said.
Brigit led him into the cool, shaded front room. The Kavanaughs hardly ever used the living room. They were a kitchen, front porch or beach sort of family. There had been a formal dining room and an elegant parlor in Liam’s childhood home in Chicago; he didn’t miss them a bit. Even before the lawsuits, even before they’d moved to the Harbor Town vacation home permanently, the Kavanaughs hadn’t spent much time in stuffy surroundings. His brother and sisters had always begged to eat in the kitchen or on their large, shaded terrace; most nights they’d been indulged. Derry Kavanaugh had made the kind of salary that allowed him to support his wife’s tastes in luxury, but Derry himself would rather eat in the cozy, slightly messy kitchen with his children than in the formal dining room.
“So what’s this all about?” Brigit asked briskly as she sat next to him on the tufted couch.
Liam didn’t know how to start. It was more difficult than he’d anticipated, broaching the topic of his father. In the end, he just took the plunge. “Mom, was Dad upset when you saw him? On the night of the accident?”
Brigit’s smile shrunk.
“What?” she croaked, her expression leading Liam to believe she wasn’t quite sure she’d heard him correctly.
“On the night of the accident. Was Dad upset? You saw him before he went out, isn’t that right?”
“Why are you asking about this all of a sudden?”
He grimaced when he heard the offended, stiff quality of her voice. “I’m sorry, Ma, I don’t want to upset you, but it’s something I’ve been wondering about.”
“Why? It happened sixteen years ago. Why should it matter now?”
He considered his mother’s face in the dim light. He couldn’t help but recall that she’d had a heart attack a year ago. It had been a mild one, granted, and Brigit currently was a picture of health. Still…the thought hovered over him like a dark, threatening clo
ud.
“I’m investigating the events that led up to the crash,” he said quietly.
The silence seemed to swell and billow.
“I don’t understand, Liam.”
Her bewildered expression pained him. He wanted the truth. But at what cost was he willing to get it?
He picked up his mother’s hand, trying to reassure her.
“Someone has hired me to find out any information I can about why Dad behaved so uncharacteristically that night.”
“Someone hired you?” Brigit regarded him like a stranger who had suddenly sat beside her speaking a foreign language. “Who on earth would want to hire you—”
He saw the moment when she guessed at the truth. Her face settled into a cold, grim mask.
“Of course. The only person who would want to hire you for such a ridiculous task would be someone who was involved. That woman I saw you with the other day at your house…the one wearing the dark glasses. That was the Reyes girl, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“Natalie Reyes. Yeah.”
“I see,” Brigit said coldly. She removed her hand from his.