The house was modern, yet classic. Dark hardwoods, large window walls that opened to a pool, and a view of the ocean beyond. A path led down to the private beach. The wood-paneled cherry walls gave it that classic feel.
There was money here.
Old money.
Not the gaudy, haphazard decoration of the nouveau riche. Everything about the furniture and the oil paintings on the wall oozed sophistication and taste.
Judy sobbed into the tissue. "I don't understand who would do such a thing to my baby."
Her throat tightened, and she could barely get the words out.
It was gut-wrenching. The hardest part of the job. Sometimes it seemed easier to get shot at than watch a parent cry over the loss of their child.
Judy blotted her eyes, sniffled, and took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Do you have any idea who's responsible?”
"When was the last time you saw your daughter?" I asked.
"Last night. She was here, visiting Preston.”
"What time did she leave?
"It was late. 11:30 PM or 12. I'm not really sure. I've just been so out of it lately with everything going on.”
"Going on?"
She took a shaky breath, blotted her eyes again, then continued. "My father has taken ill. I've been his full-time caretaker for the last six weeks or so. It's been incredibly difficult. Preston was always so independent and full of life. It's hard to see him like this.”
We both gave an understanding nod.
"If you don't mind, what happened?"
Judy shrugged. "Preston got old.” There was no other way to put it. “He seemed so young and vibrant one day, and the next…" She snapped her fingers. "Honestly, I didn't expect to have to deal with this so soon." In a hushed voice, she said, "I was sure I had another 10 years with him at least. He was always so active and took care of himself. I really don't know. He just started not feeling well, growing weaker and weaker. We took him to the emergency room. He was in the hospital for several days, which he didn't like at all. The doctors diagnosed him with multiorganfailure. Said everything was shutting down. He’d been struggling a bit with kidney function for a while, but then that dropped even more. Preston is an all-or-nothing kind of man. He doesn't want to live in that gray area in between here and there. There was no real treatment for him to pursue. And sometimes the treatment is worse than the disease. The doctor said his body just wasn’t strong enough to keep him on dialysis. Preston said he wanted to die at home, and I wasn't going to go against his wishes. We brought him back here and are doing home hospice, trying to keep him comfortable.”
"Do you have a caretaker?” I asked.
Judy scoffed. "For Preston? I'm afraid he'd run anybody off. He can be a cantankerous old man at times.”
We smiled.
"With all the piss and vinegar he's got left in him, you’d think he’d live another hundred years.”
"Never give up hope," I said.
Judy frowned. "I'm afraid I don't have much hope left.” Her eyes filled. “Certainly not after today.”
A grim expression tugged my face. I steered things back on track. "Was Sydney having any issues with anyone? Had she received any threats?”
7
“Not that I’m aware of,” Judy said.
“Who’s Fletcher?” I asked. “He sent her some pretty nasty texts.”
“They just broke up. Or I should say, she broke up with Fletcher." Judy frowned. "He wasn't too happy about that from what I heard.”
“Apparently not.”
“I know she just started seeing Trevor, but I really can't keep up. She always got so irritated with me when I tried to stick my nose into her business." Judy lifted her chin. "I just tried to keep out of it. You can't tell them anything. Not at that age." Her eyes filled again.
