you to the house for lunch on a day when Bart’s not around, or arrange for us to meet at a restaurant in Ewing, but he insists your schedule is too busy, and when I pester Max to let you off, he always has an excuse.”
She clearly thought Wyatt and I were still dating, four months after we’d broken up. Why hadn’t they told her the truth? “Mrs. Drummond—”
“Call me Emily, dear. Mrs. Drummond is much too stuffy.”
“Emily, Wyatt and I…” But something held my tongue. If the lies or evasions had come only from Wyatt, I might have written it off as his usual mysterious behavior, but Max? Was the fact that Emily thought Wyatt and I were together keeping me safe? That made no sense, especially since Bart thought I was seeing Marco. “Max is right. It’s been especially busy lately with all the construction crews coming in. This is the first half day I’ve had off in weeks.”
“And you came here to see me?” She placed a frail hand on her chest. “That means more to me than you could possibly know.”
Now I was filled with guilt. Damn Bart Drummond. I wanted to ask her about Heather, but if I jumped right into the questions, I’d look like a jealous lover—a crazy jealous lover since Heather was dead. Which made me wonder if Emily knew the truth. Although the news was all over town, she didn’t get out frequently, and Bart clearly didn’t feel the need to keep her informed.
“Has Bart told you much about the bones they found?” I asked, picking up my teacup and taking a sip.
“Not much. He thinks they came from Floyd Bingham.” She curled her nose. “Nasty man.”
“I thought so too.” When she gave me a curious look, I added, “Marco told me how awful he was.”
“It’s a wonder that Todd survived living in that hell,” she said. “I couldn’t believe his stepmother didn’t take him or Rodney.”
She didn’t know about the rumors about Floyd’s wife? Or she didn’t believe them?
“Emily, do you have any idea about the identity of the person they found buried out there?”
“Bart says it was likely an ex-employee of Floyd’s. He didn’t believe in firing people. Once you worked for him, you were his for life.” She made a face. “Which makes it all the more strange that his wife ran off.”
“Emily,” I said before I could stop myself, “do you really think he’d let her go?”
Sadness filled her eyes. “No… I suppose he didn’t.”
Just how sheltered was Emily? I knew Wyatt had come back to Drum because of her, and both he and Max had spoken of her fragility from the cancer. But did it go deeper than they let on? Was she emotionally fragile too?
I found myself thinking of what Abby had said about Mitzi, and how her husband had acted like I had the potential to break her.
Seems to be a weirdly common ailment in these parts.
“Do you think his wife is buried out there?” she asked, her voice breaking. Then horror filled her eyes. “Rodney! Oh, that poor dear boy.”
“No,” I rushed to say. “They didn’t find a child. I asked. Marco confirmed it.” But I was sure he was buried somewhere.
Her eyes sank closed and she set her teacup on the tray. “I had nightmares after he disappeared. I dreamed of my own boys going missing. I dreamed of Rodney being buried in the ground.” Her gaze lifted to mine. “He was friendly with Max and Marco, although Bart didn’t like it much. I saw him during my room mother functions at school. He was such a quiet boy. He had a haunted look. Too many kids in these parts do.” Tears swam in her eyes. “I asked Bart to put up a reward to find him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Said it would be unseemly, and it could cause a war with Floyd. He was already dealing with enough trouble from Hank, he didn’t need to go courting any more. And that poor boy was never found.”
“I’m sure that must have been very hard for you as a mother. Especially since your son was friendly with him.”
She gave me a tight smile. “Bart accused me of smothering the boys for a while after that. I had a hard time letting them out of my sight. Wyatt was easier—he was twelve, goin’ on twenty-two.” She chuckled. “Kids seem to be in such a hurry to grow up, Wyatt in particular.