Blood Vines

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

San Francisco, California

Monday, March 1

2:20 P.M.

Alex sat in her mother’s living room, what was left of her mother’s work set up around her. Ten days had passed since her trip to Sonoma. In that time she had taken care of her mother’s remains. The arrangements had been exhausting, even though they had been relatively minor. Her mother had wanted to be cremated and because she’d had few friends, Alex hadn’t seen a need for a memorial service. She had contacted the Chronicle with obituary information, picked out an urn, and worked on processing the fact that her mother was gone.

That wasn’t the only fact she had been processing. And sadly, it wasn’t the most disturbing. What kept her up at night was a lifetime of lies and secrets.

“Talk to me, Alex.” Tim sat across from her, expression concerned. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t buy it, obviously. “What about finances?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said again. “Mom didn’t have any life insurance, but she was debt-free. She owned the house and her car outright. If I have to I’ll sell the house.”

She may want to, she thought, moving her gaze over the room. So many bad memories.

She motioned to the paintings. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? Even unfinished.”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s good you saved them.”

“Yes. Good.” She frowned and brought a hand to her temple, massaged at the tension there. “I can’t stop thinking about her other life. In Sonoma, before Dylan disappeared. She was happy, Tim. Everyone I met said so. You saw the pictures, she looked like a different person.”

“Tragedy changes people,” he said softly, mimicking what he’d said after she’d shared everything she’d learned with him.

It wasn’t enough, she thought. Not nearly.

“I want to know who she was, Tim. I need to know.”

“You need to move on, love.”

She met his gaze evenly. “Move on to what? I don’t know who I am anymore.”

He leaned forward. “You’re the same person you were the day before your mother died.”

She shook her head. “Think about it. It’s like a piece of a puzzle’s been forced into the wrong spot. The picture that emerged around it is wrong. Warped.”

He stood and crossed to her. Kneeling in front of her, he gathered her hands in his. “You’re grieving. You lost your mother, your only family.”

She stared at him, frowning. What she was experiencing didn’t feel like grief. It felt like betrayal. Anger and uncertainty.

And it felt like a gnawing urge to do something. Right now, sitting still wasn’t an option.

“I quit my job,” she said.

Something like alarm raced into his eyes. “Now’s not the time to make life-changing decisions.”

“How important a life decision was it, Tim? I was a bartender.”

“You have your dissertation to finish. Your Ph.D. to earn. That’s important to you. I know it is.”

She gently eased her hands from his. “It is important. But so is this.”

“What?”

“Finding out who I am.”

“I want us to get back together.”

She stared at him, certain she must have heard him wrong. Certain it wasn’t panic she heard in his voice.

He pressed on. “It’s just grief, I promise you. I’ll love you through this.”

“It’s not, Tim. And you can’t.”

“I can.” He drew her to her feet. “We were good together once. We will be again.”

She shook her head. “Tim, I don’t-”

He tightened his fingers over hers. “I need you, Alex. What will I do without you here?”

It was all about him, she realized. His needs. Same as when they’d been married. That’s why at the first bump in the road, he’d cheated on her.

“What about what’s good for my life?” she asked softly, extricating herself from his grasp. She crossed to one of her mother’s paintings and gazed at swirls and slashes of color.

After a moment, she glanced back at him. “I’m thinking of moving to Sonoma.”

“Sonoma? You can’t be serious.”

“More than thinking about it. I found a house to rent.” He didn’t reply and she went on. “It’ll be a temporary move. Just until I get the answers I need.”

“You may never get those answers, Alex. What then?”

She refused to consider that an option and pressed on. “I’m subletting my apartment to a friend from the bar, furnishings and all. The place I’m thinking of renting is furnished. And Sonoma’s the perfect place to work on my dissertation.”

“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be hurt, Alex.”

“I’m already hurt, so bad it’s sometimes hard to breathe. How could it hurt more?”

He crossed to stand behind her and gently turned her toward him. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole thing. About what happened to your brother and what your mother did. Your mother took you away from there for a reason. She wiped that time from your memory, for a reason.”

“Grief,” Alex said. “Guilt.”

“Maybe,” he said, searching her gaze. “But what if it’s more?”

“What if? That was twenty-five years ago.”

“What about your vision? The screaming baby? What if you did see something you don’t want to remember?”

Uneasiness stole over her. She shook it off, firming her resolve. “Then, maybe, I’ll help unearth my brother’s killer.”