“That was an accident. It worked before. It should have worked again.”
My unease turned to revulsion. “Explain to me what you’re trying to say.”
“The cook wasn’t supposed to be there. The boy is the problem.” Mom’s shoulders slumped. “With him gone...”
My blood ran ice cold. “Did you hurt Jeremy?”
Mom blinked as if she’d been lost in the moment. Reliving it, likely not realizing her confession. “It was about the fire. Scare Hanna out. That’s what he said.”
None of this made sense. “Who, Mom?”
“I’d done it before. The first was the hardest, of course.”
Fifteen years ago. That’s what she had to be referencing. “At the bookstore?”
“That was the second. That time I took Xavier’s stupid truck. Tried to divert everyone’s attention.”
Three fires. The one that killed her mother. The one fifteen years ago at the bookstore. The recent one at the café. The timelines ran together into a disastrous pileup of information.
She couldn’t mean... could she? She did them all?
A wave of heat hit me. I was going to be sick.
She grabbed my sleeve. Tugged as she begged. “You have to help me.”
“Okay.” I couldn’t even think. “Let’s just—”
Her hold tightened. A tiny ripping sound broke through allthe shifting and pleading as the seam on my shirt opened. “We can use the secret passageways.”
Oh, Mom. She knew it all. Hanna was right. Mom had been there. She’d played a role. “You know about the hidden hallways in Victoria and Patrick’s house?”
She shook her head. “Those don’t matter.”
Did she even know what she was saying? Anguish, deep and raw, tore through me. The woman who pretended to be everything, to have everything, disintegrated before my eyes. She’d never been a rock or even a help in my life, but she’d been consistent. I counted on her need for public acceptance to control her actions, so I didn’t have to.
I’d failed so many people in my rush to make the Tanner stain fade, including her. Not this time. This time I needed to fix the mess. “I’m so sorry. I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me about the passageways.”
I had to remember every word, so I slipped my hand into my pocket. Felt for my cell. Peeked down at the screen while Mom was lost in her haze and started recording.
“Xavier’s house.” She sounded so clear all of a sudden. So focused and competent.
“What about it?”
“That’s how we got them out.” She nodded as if trying to convince me. “The fire was secondary.”
I had no idea if she was talking about now or then or if she’d made up the entire scenario in her head to keep the significance of her role as extreme as possible. She loved the spotlight, but this?
“He needed me.”
The words I dreaded.
“You mean Xavier.” Fucking Xavier. He used her neediness to his advantage. He controlled and destroyed. He’d turned my desperate mother into his puppet and his assistant.
“No.” She sounded confused by my reaction. Her eyes had a cloudy, disturbed look to them.
“Mom, I don’t—”
“Not Xavier.”
