Catherine tilted her head.“Stopping him how?”
“His workaholic thing.The hours.The obsession.He lived in the lab.I sometimes wonder if—” She swallowed.“If that contributed.”
Her mother went still, then spoke with careful clarity.“Kate.Listen to me.Your father’s work habits had nothing to do with the man who shot him.Nothing.That guilt?Throw it out.”
Kate nodded slowly, though she wasn’t certain she could do what her mother asked.
“Besides,” Catherine added, lifting her glass, “your father wouldn’t have changed any more than a hurricane would.He was who he was.”
Kate managed a faint smile.“And you married him.”
“Well,” Catherine said dryly, “hurricanesarekinda dramatic.”
They laughed — a real laugh, unguarded, the kind that came from the marrow rather than the throat.
“Anyway, I knew what I was in for, right from the start.Following him across the country while he built his career.New York, Boston, Baltimore, Chicago… There were whole years when I didn’t bother to unpack.”
"Yeah, butthat’sjust because you hate unpacking.How long since you moved here?And how many boxes are still in the spare room?”
“That’s because I have a selfish daughter who refuses to help her aged mother,” Catherine replied, with a broad smile.
Kate felt warmth spread through her — not wine, not food, but something like reprieve.
Something like connection.
Something she hadn’t realized she’d been starving for.
Then her phone buzzed.
Not the gentle buzz of a calendar notification.
The violent, insistent vibration of an emergency.
Her hand froze.
“Go on,” Catherine said quietly.“You should check it.”
Kate lifted the phone.
MARCUS.
Her stomach dropped.
She answered.“What is it?”
His voice was clipped.“We’ve got one.”
Her blood ran cold.
“Where?”
“Boston.Upscale apartment building.Executive found dead in her living room.Staged.Estimated to have happened between 8 and 9 pm.”
A beat.
“Who discovered it?”
“Apartment door left ajar.Neighbor popped her head in to see if anything was the matter, discovered the body.She’s been taken to the hospital with chest pains.The victim’s name is Jennifer Hayes,” Marcus continued. “Local PD says she was left in a kind of kneeling position in front of two photographs, possibly her parents, judging by appearance.”
