“Those things are way too big to be overlooked,” he says, sprinkling cheese on top of Harper’s spaghetti. She’s old enough to prepare her own food, but we spoil her that way. “Was it weird? Was she nervous to talk to you?”
“I’m pretty sure I was more nervous than her going into it, but it seemed natural once we got started. She was easy to talk to, and it was almost like she’d been waiting for someone from the case to come see her. Detective Layne was totally right about going there.” I’m meeting with him tomorrow to fill him in on today’s meeting. If he had his choice, he probably would’ve joined us for dinner, but I’m making him wait until the morning, when I’ll be fresh. “Her relationship with her mom is super strained because Genevieve’s a huge control freak. She wanted Savannah to follow in her footsteps as a beauty queen, and once she didn’t, Genevieve turned her back on her. She forced her into going to a college she didn’t want to go to so that she could keep controlling her.”
“What’d she say about Mason?”
Her love for Mason was clear from how she said his name to the way her body relaxed when she spoke about him. I was nervous to ask questions about him because I didn’t want to upset her, so I started off with a disclaimer, trying to ease into it.
“I know this is awkward and uncomfortable, but eventually we’re going to have to get to why I’m here today,” I said after I’d finished a cup of coffee and she was on her second water. We’d put in identical orders for french toast. I shifted in my seat, trying to relax. I didn’t have any training for this part. “I’m not sure—”
She cut me off, not giving me a chance to explain where things were in the case. “I know why you’re here.”
“You do?” I asked, instantly relieved.
“Of course.” She nodded. “You want to know if Mason hurt that woman.”
Her bluntness shocked me. It took me a second to recover. “As you can imagine, everyone is pretty freaked out about what happened to Annabelle. The community doesn’t feel safe, and arresting the person who did it will give them a sense of security again.” I quoted Detective Layne just like he’d asked me to. His lines felt awkward in my mouth.
“And you think Mason did it?” She narrowed her eyes, searching my face for clues.
“It seems to make the most sense.” Another Detective Layne quote. I sounded like a robot.
“Does it?” Doubt was written all over her face, and I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t sure it did, either, but I was working for the police department, so I had to say what they told me to.
“How well do you know Mason?” she asked next.
“Not very well.” That was an understatement.
“Have you even met him?” She cocked her head to the side.
“Once.” I looked away.
A range of emotions passed through her features before she settled on indignant. She leaned back against the plastic booth and crossed her arms on her chest. “You clearly haven’t spent any time with him, or you’d never even have to ask the question.”
“What question?” She had me flustered with her straightforwardness.
“Did Mason hurt that woman? The one you came here to ask, but you’ve been too nervous to do.” She called me out like a skilled therapist. “We both know that’s exactly why you’re here, so ask me. Go ahead.”
“I mean . . . I didn’t want to—”
“Ask me.” She laid her hands flat on the table and stared at me. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.
“Is there any chance Mason hurt Annabelle?” I asked softly, begrudgingly, because I didn’t know what I’d do if she said yes. It might break my heart.
She wrinkled her face and shook her head in obstinate denial. “Absolutely not. Mason would never hurt a fly.”
That was it. She wasn’t willing to entertain the possibility of Mason having anything to do with Annabelle’s death.
I turn my attention back to Dad. “Ironically, Savannah said the exact same thing about Mason that her mom did—he’d never hurt anyone or anything.”
“So maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?”
“Maybe.” I shrug, but I’m not so sure.
Harper tugs on my sleeve and points to the garlic bread on my left side. I pass her the plate, and she holds up two fingers, looking to me for permission. It’s a lot of carbohydrates, and sometimes too much gluten upsets her stomach, but she’s been so picky about eating again that I let her have it before returning to my conversation with Dad.
“Savannah couldn’t believe that the police were looking at Mason as a person of interest in Annabelle’s death. She made a comment at the end that I found really compelling, though.” I take a sip of my wine. Dad chose the perfect cabernet sauvignon to go with the pasta.
“What’d she say?” He tucks his long hair behind his ears.
“It wasn’t just what she said; it was also how she said it,” I explain, remembering how she started playing with her necklace again before she brought it up while we were waiting for the server to bring the check. We’d already gathered our things.
“You know, if y’all are looking for someone with a violent history, maybe you’re looking at the wrong person,” she said almost underneath her breath as she slowly twirled the small beads between her fingers. Her head was tilted toward the table, but her eyes peeked out from behind her lashes at me.
“What do you mean?” I dropped my voice low and leaned across the table so no one overheard, even though the place was practically empty.
She shrugged nonchalantly like what she’d said was insignificant, even though it was huge. I waited for her to say more, but she didn’t elaborate.
“Are you talking about Genevieve?” I probed, unwilling to let it go.
She gave another flippant shrug and a half smile. “I’m just saying I wouldn’t be so quick to blame Mason. He’s not the only one who doesn’t respond well when threatened.”
Before I had a chance to ask more questions, the server arrived with our checks, and Savannah leapt up from the booth, cutting the discussion short.
I quickly fill Dad in on the specifics of the conversation.
“What did she mean by that?” he asks after I finish.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
Savannah hinting that her mom is more likely to be violent than Mason has got its hooks in me and won’t let go. I should’ve been in bed two hours ago, but I’m still glued to my computer and cyberstalking Genevieve. Detective Layne has been doing lots of digging with his team on Mason, but how much have they done on Genevieve? They think she’s just a helicopter mom lying to protect her son, but what if there’s something more?
They probably assumed they already knew everything about her because her life is literally an open book on the internet. She’s blogged about her struggles with Mason’s challenging behaviors from diagnosis until now. She gives these raw, eye-opening accounts of what day-to-day life is like with children like ours. I usually find that type of blog depressing because my life doesn’t center around autism even though my job focuses on it and my daughter has it. Genevieve must be like me that way, because her posts about Mason are interspersed with Instant Pot recipes and DIY decorating tips. There are other posts filled with stuff that’s surprisingly funny. She has a #mommybloggersbreakfacebook Friday series that has hilarious videos of moms dancing with their kids. She posts some of the greatest memes too.