Page 37 of Mother-Daughter Murder Night

“Jack, we still have to discuss—”

“It’s my job, Mom.”

“I know, but—”

“I want to do my job.”

The car went quiet. Lana ignored the battle of wills between her daughter and granddaughter and tried to remember exactly what Paul had said at the shop about loaning out Kayak Shack equipment to friends. He’d mentioned life jackets. But not boats. Why would he have given one to Hal Rhoads? Paul hadn’t been at the wake, so he probably wasn’t a close friend of the rancher. She couldn’t picture him hobnobbing with Martin either. Did he have some other connection to the Rhoads family? Maybe a fling? Lana could see Paul with the grandniece, the hippie, reeling her in with some nonsense about free love. Or was it possible a socialite like Lady Di was slumming it with Paul Hanley? She’d add that to her notes to look into when she spoke to Rhoads’s daughter on Monday.

“Fine.” Beth jerked the car to an abrupt stop before the bridge. “Everyone can do what they want. Everyone can take care of themselves. That’s your philosophy, right, Ma?”

Lana opened her eyes and gave her daughter an uncertain nod.

“Independence is a gift.”

“Sure, Ma. I’ll keep that in mind while I drive you home.”

Chapter Nineteen

At six thirty Sunday morning, Jack tiptoed outside onto the tiny wedge of concrete behind the house where she stowed her bike.

“Mom?”

Beth was bent over in sweats and a beanie, meticulously rearranging her rock garden. It seemed to have expanded along the whole side of the house, lining the top of the gravel hillside that led down to the slough. The rocks formed a maze, a feathery, intricate spiral.

Jack nudged her.

“Mom? Everything okay?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Decided to work on the labyrinth.”

“It’s nice,” Jack said tentatively. The closer she looked, the more complicated the stone pattern appeared to be. Jack wondered if her mother had slept at all.

Beth reached out for a quick hug, and Jack felt the familiar warmth of her mother’s concern. But today it felt too hot, smothering. Jack knew what she needed to do. She pulled back and looked her mom in the face.

“I’m going to the marina. You may not be ready yet. But I am.”

Beth nodded slowly. Her eyes had dark circles under them. “She uses people, you know. Your Prima. When I was little, she’d pinch me so I’d cry and we could skip the line at the airport. Everyone’s just an employee to her, in service to her goals.”

“I’m not doing this for Prima.”

“Just because she enlisted you doesn’t mean you have to join her crusade.”

Jack felt herself stand up straighter, her hands clenching the handlebars of her bike. “This is what I want to do.”

Her mother swallowed. Her voice was gentle, tired. “Okay. I trust you. Go.”

Jack pedaled hard past the old dairy and the power plant, the wind racing her thoughts down the road. It had only been a week, but she’d almost forgotten how much she loved the scent of the marina, the sweet blend of motor oil and salt rising toward her. One day, she’d have a boat that smelled like that. She didn’t think her mom would let her solo navigate around the world like some of the teenagers she followed on Instagram, but even a few nights on the open ocean, a trip down to Catalina or up to Seattle, would be magic. Freedom. Her sweatshirt billowed in the wind, and she let herself imagine for a moment the fabric was a sail.

When she crossed the bridge, she stopped daydreaming and focused on the big day ahead of her. She wasn’t going to get rattled. If the detective had questions, she’d show up with answers. She ran through where she’d been, what she’d been doing, who was there. As long as the conversation stayed focused on last weekend, she could handle it.

Jack flew into the marina, turning her wheels into a skid in the parking lot outside the Kayak Shack.

“Early today, Tiny,” Paul said, ambling toward her and rubbing a towel through his hair.

Jack shrugged.

“Well, it’s gonna be a weird one,” Paul said, “with the cops and all. Better get everything all buttoned up for the big show.”