The Reckless Oath We Made - Bryn Greenwood Page 0,35

to take care of.”

“Let’s say two days. Max,” Mansur said. I put the keys in his hand and he passed them to the cop who’d brought the warrant. Just like that I was homeless, jobless, carless. Fucked.

I went outside and walked across the lawn to Emma and Mom. Emma had gotten Mom a bottle of water from somewhere, and when I reached them, she said, “Do you want some water, Zee? I’ve got more in my car.”

She put her hand on my arm, so I knew she wanted me to come with her, but she didn’t say anything until we got to her car. When she popped the trunk, this chill went down my back. Because they’d found LaReigne’s car, and now they’d found a body. For all I knew, it was LaReigne, and I could see it. I could imagine her dead and stuffed in the trunk of her own car.

Of course, all Emma had in her trunk was a case of bottled water and a roadside kit. She passed me a bottle and, when I reached for it, both our hands were unsteady.

“Can you do me a favor?” I said, trying to shake that chill.

“I only came because Aunt Dot sounded hysterical. She didn’t know where you were, and I didn’t want to leave her alone. That’s it. I can’t do anything for you. This is all too much.” Emma started crying, I guess because she was freaked out about the police. She said, “Please, don’t call me again. I won’t answer the next time. And please, don’t drag my mother into this.”

“Who’s dragging your mother into anything?” I squeezed the water bottle until the plastic crackled in my fist. It was weirdly satisfying and it made me feel less shaky.

“I just don’t want my mother getting upset. You know she’s not in good health,” Emma said. “I’m sorry, but we don’t want to be involved anymore. Nothing personal, but we don’t want to be part of the Trego family mess anymore. It’s too much.”

I didn’t believe Aunt Shelly’s health had anything to do with her not coming to see Mom. They hadn’t seen each other in years. They’d had a huge fight at Uncle Tim’s funeral, over some family heirlooms Mom thought she should have. They’d gone to Uncle Tim and, after he was dead, his wife, my aunt Shelly, refused to give them to Mom, because Emma had just as much right to them as me or LaReigne. One of those stupid fights that aren’t even about anything important, but that ended with Aunt Shelly cutting off all contact except for the family Christmas letter. That was Mom and Aunt Shelly both. Some great-great-grandmother’s wedding china was more important to them than actual family members.

I couldn’t blame Emma. If I had the option of walking away, wouldn’t I? Mom’s neighbors were standing out on their porches, and pretty soon reporters would show up, because who could resist watching a six-hundred-pound woman being publicly humiliated in front of the giant trash heap that was her home? Why would Emma want anyone to know we were her family?

“Yeah, well, thanks for coming anyway,” I said.

“Sure. I hope everything turns out okay.”

“I guess you’ll hear about it on the news, one way or another.”

“I’m sorry.” She stood there all wet-eyed, like she was going to hug me. In case that’s what she was thinking, I took a couple steps backward and held up the bottle of water.

“Thanks for this.” Then I walked back to where Mom was sitting in her recliner. She straightened up a little.

“Where’s Emma?”

“She had to go,” I said. As pissed as I was, I didn’t want Mom to know that her brother’s family had written us off.

When the tow truck came and loaded my car, Mom was so fixated on the cops carrying things out of the house that she didn’t notice. I was glad for that.

We’d been there another hour, and Mom had finished her bottle of water and half of mine, when she started coughing. I checked my pockets, and then the pockets on the recliner, but all I found was the TV remote and a bunch of romance novels.

“Mom, where’s your inhaler?”

She couldn’t stop coughing long enough to answer me, so I patted the pockets of her bathrobe, but all I found was tissues and Mentholatum. I’d had the inhaler in the house. I’d taken it out of her hand. What did I do with it? I couldn’t remember. Did I give