Page 61 of Mother-Daughter Murder Night

Lana scrapped her way into real estate and kept building skyward, gladly sacrificing her softest parts to make herself hard, building a reputation as someone who never trusted but always delivered. Every deal cemented her safety. Every fallen adversary buttressed her strength. She kept herself impeccably tailored and toned, relentless in battle against the forces that turned other women invisible as they aged, stepped on and stepped over.

But now cancer was tearing down the iron defenses she’d built. She could see her impending irrelevance reflected in the faces of arrogant oncologists and overworked nurses. Even her daughter. People who thought they could shove her into a smaller life and expect her to be grateful for it. The only times she didn’t feel threatened these days were when she was working on the investigation, when she was asking questions instead of answering them.

Lana fingered the hospital bracelet around her wrist, the plasticky edges sharp against her skin. Heat swirled in her body. Agitation. Fear, even, fear of being prone, in a hospital bed, stranded there forever.

Of course, Lana didn’t say any of that.

“I . . . I just want to help.”

“Uh-huh.”

She tried again. “This matters to me. Doing something, working, it matters. I want to help.”

Lana looked up at Beth. She knew her words sounded hollow, but she hoped that behind them, Beth could hear her trying. To say something honest. To show her something real.

Beth gazed back at her and swallowed. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “Okay. Then I want to help too.”

“You? Miss don’t-touch-that-magnifying-glass?” The words were out of Lana’s mouth before she had a chance to reconsider them.

But Beth didn’t take the bait. “I might not get it,” she said. “I might not love it. But if it’s important to you, it’s important to me. I’m not going to throw someone out for doing something I don’t understand.”

Lana flinched, turning her head to see if Jack was listening. The girl was following every word.

“If tracking down murderers is what you want to do, I’m not going to stop you,” Beth said. “And frankly, I don’t imagine anyone else could either.”

Beth held her hand out to her mother. Lana placed the empty Styrofoam cup back in her daughter’s hand, gently brushing her fingers as she did so.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lana said. “If we’re going to make progress, we need decent coffee.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

After getting cleared by the hospital with a stern directive to rest, change her bandages daily, and return if she had trouble breathing, Lana and her girls went home. She slept most of the weekend, rousing only to return Detective Ramirez’s call and request a meeting as soon as possible to discuss the fire.

Early Monday morning, she woke to hear Beth on the phone in the kitchen, wavering over a request to cover another nurse’s shift at Bayshore Oaks. Lana pulled herself up to standing and shuffled out of the back bedroom, ignoring the flickering pain that accompanied the movement.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Go to work. Go to school. I can take care of myself.”

As soon as her girls left, Lana took her pills and crashed back into bed.

Three hours later, armed in a cream-colored suit, heavy makeup, and a wig with bangs to cover the worst of her bruises, Lana opened the door for the detectives.

As soon as she saw them, Lana was glad she’d dressed up. Instead of her dour older partner, Detective Ramirez was accompanied by a young, well-built man with teeth so white they glowed.

“Ms. Rubicon.” Ramirez nodded. “How are you doing? When I came to the hospital, your daughter told me about your ordeal, and the lung cancer, and—”

“I’m fine,” Lana snapped. She tried to sound as strong as possible.

Ramirez pulled back at her sharp tone. “Well . . . good. This is Detective Choi, from Santa Cruz PD. He’s leading the investigation into the fire at the land trust.”

“Investigation? So it was arson?”

“We’re looking into it.” His white shirt was crisp, his tie well knotted. “I hear you had quite the adventure in our city.”

“You have my Lexus,” Lana said.

“It’s safe in our lot.”

“Safe from what?”