Mortal Sins

TWENTY-TWO

A shower had swept in, washing the air with the best smells in the world. Toby sat in his bed with the window open, which Grammy wouldn’t like because the covers might get wet.

He didn’t care. He didn’t care what she liked or what anyone else liked or didn’t like. They could all just leave him alone.

Especially her. She’d never had a problem doing that before.

He’d heard her. He’d been about to come downstairs and get some breakfast and see if Dad wanted to do something, maybe kick the ball around or go to the park so he could practice corner kicks. Then he heard her talking to Dad. His stomach had seized up and his throat had closed, almost as if he were scared.

He wasn’t, dammit. He tried the word out in a whisper. “Dammit.” It didn’t make his stomach feel any better.

His door opened. Toby looked around, scowling. It was Dad, and he hadn’t even knocked. “You’re supposed to knock.”

“Knocking implies I’d go away if you didn’t give me permission to enter. I’m not waiting on permission. I’m not Grammy.”

A worm of guilt squirmed around in Toby’s gut. He’d yelled at Grammy to go away when she knocked. Tough on her. She always takes Mom’s side. “I don’t want to talk to her or you or—or anyone.”

“Anyone meaning your mother, I take it.” Dad came over and sat on Toby’s bed—again without waiting to be asked. “You will apologize to Grammy.”

Toby just scowled. He probably would. Just not yet. “You’re gonna make me go down and be nice to Mom.”

Dad shook his head. “No, I’m going to make you apologize to Grammy.”

Surprise wiggled in so fast he couldn’t stop it. “So it’s okay if I don’t want to talk to Mom?”

“I don’t tell you what to want or not want. I sometimes tell you what you must do or not do. I’ve decided this one is your choice.”

Curiosity made it hard to keep his anger hot, so he scowled extra. “How come?”

“More or less the same reason I allowed you to choose to speak with the press. If it’s a mistake, it’s one you can learn from.”

“I hate her.” His stomach roiled unhappily. “I’m pretty sure I do. What does she want, anyway?”

“She wants to talk with you. That’s all I know.”

“It’s about the hearing, I bet. She didn’t tell you why she’s here?”

“She won’t speak of her intentions until you come down.”

And they needed to know. They needed to know why she was here, if she’d changed her mind about custody, what she was going to do. Toby’s chin set stubbornly. “You could make her tell.”

Dad’s face turned hard, as if Toby had insulted him. “I do not make women do things against their will.”

Shame added itself to the unhappy mix in his stomach. “You think she’ll go away if I stay up here? Or come up and knock on my door and . . .” And that’s who he’d wanted to yell at, he realized. Not Grammy. He’d wanted Mom to come to the door so he could yell at her to go away.

“I don’t know. My guess is that she isn’t leaving without speaking to you, but you can wait here and see.” Rule paused. “I assume you’ve thought about the consequences of this choice.”

He hadn’t. He didn’t want to think about her at all, but he couldn’t make himself stop. “I don’t want her here. I don’t want to talk to her or look at her or—or anything.” He wanted to keep hating her, but he might not. If he saw her, he might not hate her enough to . . . to keep from feeling other things.

“You’re very angry with her. She hasn’t put your needs first. But she’s given you the chance to have those needs met by others, especially Grammy. She’s spent time with you, but she’s never stayed with you. She’s let you down.”

She hadn’t come for Christmas. Toby swallowed and looked away.

He didn’t need her to live here with him and Grammy, not all the time, but she hadn’t come home for Christmas. That had been the one thing he could count on her for—that she’d be here, and she’d bring presents, and they’d eat turkey and dressing together, and she’d stay a few days. For a few days they’d all be a family like they were supposed to be.

Last Christmas, she hadn’t come. She’d gotten a fancy new position with the AP on the other side of the world, and she hadn’t come. And for all the months since Christmas, she hadn’t come. When Grammy broke her leg, Dad and Lily had come and helped. Uncle Mark and Aunt Deirdre had, too. Mom had called, sure, but she hadn’t come.

Now she had.

Toby looked down at his feet, which were up on the bed with the rest of him, on covers that were, maybe, a little damp. His stomach hurt. He couldn’t think of what to say.

“You’re in a place where none of your choices feel good, aren’t you?” Dad had sympathy in his voice. Not pity, not poor-little-boy stuff. Just sympathy.

That sympathy unwound him and stuff burst out. “I just feel so much! It’s too much. I don’t know what to do with it all, and it’s all mixed up! I wish I could shut it off, or barf it all up and get it out of me!”

Dad nodded as if that made sense, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled Toby close against him and sat still. Not talking, not holding on tight. Just being there with his whole body.

Toby leaned his head on Dad’s chest and listened to his heartbeat, and after a while he felt a little better. Not a lot, but some. He sighed. “We need to know what she wants. Why she’s here.”

“It would help.”

“I don’t know what to do. I guess I should go down there, but I don’t know what to do when I see her.” He might start yelling at her, which would upset Grammy. But if he didn’t yell . . . What if he cried? He blinked fast. He was not going to cry. “Dammit,” he whispered, his head still on Dad’s chest.

“Would you like a suggestion?”

“I guess.” Dad must have heard the “dammit,” but he hadn’t said anything. For some reason that made it okay to straighten himself up and look at Dad, full on, for the first time since Dad came in.

Dad’s eyes were real serious, not angry or worried or disappointed in him. “Don’t plan out how you need to act when you see her. Plans like that come undone when the other person doesn’t behave the way we’d pictured them behaving. And they usually don’t.”

That made sense. “Okay.” Toby nodded and said it again. “Okay, let’s go see what she wants.” But he reached for Dad’s hand so it would be them going downstairs, not just him.

She looked the same. That was all the think Toby could manage when he went into the den, where she’d been sitting on the couch beside Grammy. She’d stood up when he came in with Dad and now she stood there, smiling at him, but like it was hard to smile.

Maybe her hair was shorter than the last time he’d seen her. She had real dark hair, almost black. A lot darker than his. Dad’s hair was dark, too. Grammy said Toby’s hair probably came from her because she’d had light brown hair before it turned gray, so her genes had mixed in and lightened up Toby’s hair. Mom had dark eyes, too, and was taller than Grammy or Lily. She was a pretty woman.

Her eyes were shiny and damp. “Hello, Toby.”

Her voice made something inside him shaky. “Don’t you cry.” His own voice came out gruff. “You’d better not start crying.”

“No promises.” She laughed, but not like she thought she was funny. “Not that you’d believe me if I did promise, I suppose. I understand that you’re angry with me about Christmas.”

That made him mad. She didn’t deserve to understand him. He tried to make his face stony, the way Dad did sometimes, though hardly ever at him.

“Well.” She smoothed down her shirt, which was made of something stretchy the color of tomatoes. “Maybe we should sit down, then. I have some news,” she added, doing what she’d said and sitting on the couch.

Toby went to sit on the hearth, which was low and had some pillows in Grammy’s favorite colors—blue and green—and faced the couch. Dad sat beside him and spoke in that polite way he used when he was determined not to be mad. “I’m certainly interested in your news, Alicia. Is it about the custody hearing?”

“In a way.” She rubbed her hands on her skirt this time, as if her palms were damp. But it was Grammy she looked at, not him and Dad.

“Then maybe you’ll stop dragging this out.” Grammy’s voice was crisp as a potato chip. Salty like one, too. “We haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

Hurt flashed over Mom’s face. Maybe she didn’t like it that Grammy hadn’t asked her to eat with them. She smiled brightly. “I think I’m allowed to make this particular announcement my own way.”

Dad said, “Does it have something to do with that gold ring on your left hand?”

“Why, yes.” Mom’s smile was too big, too bright, like she wanted to smile the rest of them into happiness. Or maybe she wanted to make herself happy, as if her feelings might catch up with her face if she smiled hard enough. “I got married last month, and my husband and I want Toby to live with us.”

LILY wasn’t sure why she was on Sherwood Lane. She’d had a surprisingly useful interview with the conspiracy nut, who’d gotten excited about being part of an investigation once she convinced him she wasn’t hauling him off to some secret location. He’d given her a tentative ID on one of the dogs and was calling around, compiling a list of other missing pets

Now she had to build on that. Sherwood Lane wasn’t exactly out of her way, but there was no reason for her to be here . . . no reason except Rule.

If this was the damned mate bond tugging at her . . . Almost, she turned around and headed back to the main drive.

But it didn’t feel like the mate bond. She knew how that felt pretty well now, and it was a physical tug, not this . . . this emotional static. Like she wasn’t thinking straight and wouldn’t until she saw Rule.

Maybe she’d turned psychic. Cullen was due in sometime today, and she did need to talk to him. Maybe she’d psychically picked up on his arrival.

Lily snorted. More likely, she admitted, she was being stubborn. Uwharrie National Forest butted up against the woods where Rule had found the bodies. She wanted to talk to the ranger there about any unusual increase in the number of dead animals—but the ranger’s station was over ten miles away. The mate bond wouldn’t let her go that far, so she’d either have to send one of the other agents or get Rule to come with her.

It pissed her off. She . . . Hey, look at that! There was a white Taurus pulled up behind Rule’s Mercedes. Automatically she took note of the plates. A rental? Cullen would be renting a car in Charlotte and driving in.

Huh. Maybe she was psychic.

Lily parked along the curb in front of the Asteglio house and got out.

The front door opened. A tall, dark-haired woman with blunt, sensual features stepped out, saying something over her shoulder to Louise, who followed. Louise didn’t look happy. The two of them were so involved in their conversation—which involved dinner plans and someone named James—that they didn’t notice Lily until they were about six feet away.

The dark-haired woman finally saw her and jerked to a stop. Louise did, too. Her hand fluttered to her chest. “Oh—Lily. I wasn’t expecting you at this hour.”

“Lily?” The other woman’s full lips curved up. “I see. You’re short, aren’t you? Much shorter than I’d imagined.”

“And you’re more rude than I’d imagined, given my acquaintance with your mother. You are Alicia Asteglio, right?”

Dark eyebrows lifted. “I was.”

“Alicia,” Louise chided, “you’re beginning this poorly.”

Alicia shrugged. “I do everything badly, according to you.” She left it at that, stalking off to her car, where she paused. Her eyes were intent, but her voice was soft, the tone somewhere between coaxing and pleading. “I’m trying to make things right, Mama. Believe it or not, I am. You’ll call about the time?”

Louise nodded once, tight-lipped.

Her daughter got in her car, slammed the door, and backed out quickly.

“You’re upset,” Lily said carefully.

“Upset?” Louise made a noise that was not a laugh, though maybe she’d meant it to be. “She got married. She got married last month and didn’t tell me, didn’t want me there . . . Yes, I’m upset. She thinks I should be happy for her. I suppose I am, but . . .” She shook her head.

Sounded like everything was all about Alicia. Her feelings counted. Her mother’s didn’t. Lily experienced a distinct twinge. She didn’t do that to her own mother, did she? “Was this a sudden thing?”

“Sudden for me. I don’t know about her. She’s been living with James for the past six months, in Beirut.” Abruptly Louise started for the house. “I’ve never met him. Spoken to him on the phone a few times, and he was pleasant enough, but what does that mean? Oh, never mind me. It’s Toby I’m worried about.”

Worry put a hitch in Lily’s breath. “Is she going to oppose Rule’s custody?”

“It’s complicated. Everything to do with Alicia is complicated. Do come in, dear. Have you eaten?”

Lily assured her she didn’t need to be fed, though she did check out the coffeepot as they passed the kitchen. Empty. Oh, well.

Rule and Toby were in the den—Rule on the phone, Toby sitting beside him, arms crossed, staring at the floor. Rule had his expression shut down. Toby had storms all over his.

Toby looked up as Lily entered behind Louise. “I’m not going to stay with her.”

“She has legal custody of you still,” his grandmother said wearily.

“Didn’t say I wouldn’t go. I said I wouldn’t stay.”

Rule broke off his conversation. “You’ll stay,” he said tersely. “If you do go with your mother, you will not run away.”

Toby’s expression left that somewhat in doubt—especially considering he’d run away to his father once already. Lily looked at Louise, her eyebrows asking the question for her.

“Alicia has decided she wants Toby. She says she’ll let him decide, however—if he comes to stay with her and her new husband first, for six months.”

Lily’s eyebrows shot back up. “Is she still living in Beirut?”

Louise shook her head. “She’s in D.C. again. It’s technically a demotion, because she’ll be at a lower salary grade, but James—James French is her new husband—was transferred there by the agency he works for, and she wanted to come back to the U.S. with him.”

Eight months ago Alicia had chosen her career over her son when she moved to Beirut. Apparently a lover rated more sacrifice. Lily did her best to keep her distaste from showing. “And getting married makes her want to be a full-time parent?”

“I’m surprised,” Louise admitted, her voice low. “She wants this chance, for both her sake and Toby’s, but she’ll abide by Toby’s wishes if he ends up choosing his father.”

Lily looked at Rule. “Get it in writing.”

Rule nodded, but his attention was clearly with whoever was on the other end of the line.

Louise sighed again. “He’s talking to his attorney now.”

“I’m not going to stay with her,” Toby repeated.

Lily went to sit next to him on the couch. “Why not?”

He frowned, obviously thinking she was being stupid. “Because I want to live with Dad and you.”

“And we want you to. Six months is a long time.”

“Yeah! And she could have talked about it with me. She could have told me she was getting married to this James guy and asked if I wanted to live with them, but she didn’t. She just up and says we’ve got to do things her way, or else.”

“ ‘Or else’ meaning she’ll fight Rule’s custody suit?”

“She said she won’t pull any punches, that it will all come out, and she made her face look like this”—his expression mimicked a fox, sly and knowing—“as if she knows secrets. But she doesn’t. I never tell her any Nokolai stuff.”

That didn’t mean Alicia couldn’t find out, figure out, or make up something. “It sounds like a choice between two things you really, really don’t like—either stay with your mom for six months, or have a knock-down, drag-out battle for custody.”

“Dad won’t.” Toby’s eyes glistened. “He says six months isn’t forever, and that I don’t understand how bad it would be if we had a big fight in court.”

“Well, he’s probably right about that. What doesn’t he understand?”

Toby blinked, then frowned slightly, thinking that over.

Louise stroked Toby’s hair, but spoke to Lily. “Rule has been very restrained, but he’s upset, of course. I’m upset. To-by’s upset . . . I suppose Alicia is, too, though I wish she’d talked to me about her plans. I wish . . . I don’t think she’s doing the wrong thing, necessarily. But she’s going about it the wrong way.”

Lily kept her voice mild. “You think it would be good for Toby to live with her?”

“Not permanently, no. If I could say . . .” She sighed. “Well, I can’t. But I think Toby should have a chance to mend things with her. She’ll continue to be his mother no matter who he lives with.”

Rule disconnected. His eyes went straight to Lily. “You didn’t stop here to see if we were having a crisis.”

“I thought you might be able to go see a forest ranger with me.” She spread her hands. “Obviously not a good idea right now. What did your lawyer say?”

“He advises me to take what she’s offering, but to go through the judge so it’s binding. We’ll suggest a shorter period than six months, too.” He gave Toby a nod. “There’s no saying we’ll get it, but we’ll try. He’s going to find out what he can about James French.”

Louise gave Rule a chiding look. “I’m sure that’s not necessary. They’re coming to dinner tonight. We’ll get to know him then.”

Tonight? Oh, the fun just kept on coming. Lily stood and said to Louise, “Look at it this way. If we have some of the facts about French’s background, we won’t be grilling him over the pot roast.” Lily gave Rule a glance. “I might be able to help with that.”

He gave her the ghost of a grin. “I hope you don’t mean the pot roast.”

“No.” Louise shook her head. “It will not be pot roast. We just had pot roast. And James,” she added grimly, “is vegan.”

Toby frowned. “What’s vegan? Is that where he’s from?”

“It means he doesn’t eat meat. No beef, chicken, or fish.”

Toby’s mouth fell. “Not at all?”

“No,” Lily answered when a glance at Louise showed her to be preoccupied. “Not if he’s a practicing vegan. He also won’t wear leather or eat eggs or dairy products. Nothing that comes from an animal.”

“Lasagna,” Louise muttered. “No, no, can’t make lasagna without cheese. I’d better check my cookbooks.” She started for the kitchen.

“There will be vegan recipes online,” Lily called after her.

“I can look them up for you,” Toby said, shoving to his feet. He glanced at his father and whispered quite audibly, “It’s not like I care about this stupid James guy, but Grammy hates it if she doesn’t have the right stuff for guests.”

Rule laid a hand on Toby’s head. “It’s all right if you like Mr. French, Toby. That takes nothing from me. At Clanhome you care about and are cared for by many people, not just me.”

“But Mr. French isn’t clan.”

“No, but as your mother’s husband, he’s family. We don’t always like everyone in our family, but it’s perfectly acceptable to do so.”

“Is it okay if I don’t like him?”

“As long as you’re polite, yes. But I hope you’ll give him a chance.”

Toby looked scornful. “He doesn’t eat meat.”

“He’s not lupus, so we shouldn’t require him to live as we do. Though we’ll have to make sure your mother understands that your dietary needs do include meat, if you end up staying with her for a time. Now, I could use a run. What about you?”

Toby brightened. “Yeah! Maybe we could run over to the park and practice corner kicks? And if Justin and Talia could come—”

The doorbell rang.

Lily glanced that way. “I’ll get it.”

Louise had pulled a thick cookbook out of a cabinet. She tucked it under one arm. “No, dear. I prefer to answer my own door.”

Lily followed. Not that she thought someone was going to jump Louise, but—okay, she did think that. “Use the spyhole, okay? I don’t want—”

Too late. Louise had already swung the door open. Her hand fluttered to her chest and her words came out in a whisper. “Oh, my sweet Jesus.”