Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [424]
“I have an appointment, Mag-pie…and lots of packing to do.” Even her voice had not shifted, not even a notch. There was still that sugary cheerfulness that came with the alcohol.
“How could I have believed you?” Maggie tried to ward off the anger. Why did this always feel so personal? Why did it seem like a betrayal? “I thought you stopped.”
“Well, of course, I stopped. I stopped packing to talk to you.” But she stayed by the door, hand still planted—maybe she hoped if Maggie didn’t leave, she could simply escape. She watched Maggie pace from one end of the room to the other.
“It was the tea,” Maggie said, slapping her forehead like a child finally getting an answer to a quiz. She snatched up her mother’s glass and took a whiff. “Of course.”
“Just a little something to take the edge off.” Kathleen O’Dell waved it away, a familiar gesture that reminded Maggie of some form of alcoholics’ absolution.
“To take the edge off? For what? What did you need to take the edge off of? So you could get through one goddamn visit with your own daughter?”
“A surprise visit. You really should have called first, Mag-pie. And please don’t swear.” Even that tone, that Pollyanna tone, grated on Maggie’s nerves. “Why are you here?” her mother asked. “Are you checking up on me?”
Maggie tried to slow down, tried to focus. Yes, why had she come? She rubbed a hand across her face, again annoyed that there was a bit of a tremor in her fingers. Why did she have so little control over her reaction, over her body’s response? It was as if the hurt little girl inside of her came to the surface to deal with this, because the adult woman had not yet found a sufficient way.
“Maggie, why are you here?”
Now her mother had come back into the room, suddenly anxious for an answer.
“I needed to…” She needed to remember the investigation. She was a professional. She needed answers. Answers her mother could provide. She needed to focus. “I was worried about you.”
It was her mother’s turn to stare. Suddenly, Maggie wanted to smile. Yes, she did know a thing or two about playing games, about the power of denial or in her mother’s world, the power of pretend. Her mother wanted to pretend one drink to take the edge off was not a fall off the wagon? Well Maggie could pretend she was simply worried about her, afraid for her safety, instead of looking for answers about Everett. That was what brought her here, wasn’t it? The investigation and trying to solve it. Of course it was.
“Worried?” her mother finally said, as if it had taken this long for her to formulate a definition for the word itself. “Why in the world would you be worried about me?”
“There are some things about Reverend Everett that I don’t think you know.”
“Really?”
Maggie saw suspicion slipping in past the bewilderment. Careful. She didn’t want her to get defensive. “Reverend Everett is not who he seems to be.”
“How do you know? You’ve never met him.”
“No, but I did some research and—”
“Ah, research?” her mother interrupted. “Like a background check?”
“Yes,” Maggie said, keeping her voice calm and steady now. The professional kicked back into gear.
“The FBI has always hated him. They want to destroy him.”
“I don’t want to destroy him.”
“I didn’t mean you.”
“Mom, I am the FBI. Please, just listen to me for a minute.” But her mother was fidgeting with the living room blinds, wandering from one window to the next, shutting each and taking her time. “I’ve talked to others who have told—”
“Others who have left the church.” Another interruption, but still with that annoying distracted cheerfulness.
“Yes.”
“Ex-members.”
“Yes.”
“Well, you simply can’t believe a word they say. Surely, you must know that.” This time she looked at Maggie, and there was something in her eyes, an impatience Maggie didn’t recognize. “But you’d rather believe them, wouldn’t you?”
Maggie stared at her again. Her mother’s mind was already made up. Nothing Maggie could say would change what she believed or didn’t believe. No surprise there. What exactly was it that she had expected to find out? Why had she