She wasn’t bad-looking, he thought as he stared down at her mug shot. She might even have been pretty, before her drug habit. By the time this picture was taken, two years before her accidental overdose, she’d been living on the streets and selling her body to survive. If she hadn’t been arrested for prostitution, he wouldn’t have a single photograph of her.
What he’d found when he’d gone looking for the person who’d abandoned him hadn’t been anything like he’d hoped—but he’d found answers. The mystery that had plagued him for so long, that had kept him restless day and night, had been solved when he’d finally come to terms with the fact that he had to know and had stopped lying to himself, stopped saying that it didn’t matter. His mother had driven off in her rattletrap car and left him in the bathroom at a roadside convenience store/café, and she’d done it because she loved crack more than she loved him.
Bailey Rawlings. That was the name she was using at the time of her arrest. He wasn’t sure if that had always been her name. For all he knew, she could’ve made it up so she wouldn’t embarrass her family, or in case they ever wanted to find her. At five, she’d merely been Mommy to him. The P.I. had dug up Isaac’s birth certificate, which had the name Morgan on it but no father.
When the P.I. managed to track down Bailey’s parents, whose surname was Morgan, Isaac had gone to see them in South Carolina. They hadn’t known whether she’d ever married; if the name Rawlings meant she had, they’d never been told. They hadn’t known she had a child either, so it’d been awkward. As soon as he learned they couldn’t tell him anything about his dad, he’d said goodbye and they hadn’t been in touch since, except for the Christmas card he’d received last December. He hadn’t bothered searching for his father beyond that. It was enough to know what had happened to his mother. Considering her lifestyle, he could guess that his father was probably some john who wouldn’t be too interested in discovering he’d had a baby with a prostitute.
Sketchy though the details were, the information in this folder had turned him around. Made him grateful for what he had. Made him realize he was almost certainly better off than he would’ve been if she’d kept him. He’d been raised in a good place by people with the best of intentions who’d tolerated him despite the trouble he gave them. He wished he’d treated Old Man Tippy with more respect when he’d had the chance.
He had his answers, so he could bind up that festering wound. But Claire was where he’d been two years ago and could not. Before she left, she’d told him what April had said. He could tell she was more conflicted than ever. She had to know whom to trust. The questions were eating her up inside, and it was killing him to watch, because he understood.
Maybe that was why they were drawn to each other, why everything between them was always so intense.
I hate you…?. If that was true, she had a funny way of showing it. What she hated was herself, because she couldn’t seem to alleviate the pain and fulfill her obligations as a good sister and daughter at the same time.
She needed to hire a quality P.I. like he had, someone better than the ones Tug had used, to finally get to the bottom of what had happened fifteen years ago. It was the only way to find peace. But she didn’t have the money. And Tug had long since given up. That’s why I’m going to step in. Maybe she was still in love with David. And maybe he’d never be able to compare to such a good man. But, as imperfect as Isaac knew he was, he was all Claire had.
Removing the business card that’d been clipped to the manila folder, he picked up the phone.
16
“Where were you Thursday night?”
Claire was cutting Carrie Oldman, one of the eight women in her book group. She’d already received a message from Carrie, as well as Laurel and one other friend, wondering why she didn’t show, but she’d been too caught up in everything else to respond. “Um, I was…not feeling well,” she finished lamely. Even if she was sick, it would be unusual for her not to call. Rarely did anyone miss their meetings. But that was the best answer she could conjure up on the spot.
Carrie frowned into the mirror. “Are you better now?”
“I’m not contagious, if that’s what you mean. Why?”
“You seem…a little out of it.”
Claire kept her attention on the short bob she was creating out of Carrie’s long, straight hair. With all the thinning and breaking as Carrie aged, she definitely needed a change. But it’d taken a year to talk her into this new style. And she’d chosen today of all days to go for it.
“I haven’t been getting much sleep,” Claire said. But that wasn’t everything. It was what April had said during their discussion yesterday that weighed so heavily on her: You mean the part about Tug being infertile? You didn’t know?
The drape rustled as Carrie brought her hand out to scratch her nose. “I’m really worried about you. We all are. You know that, don’t you? Once it was obvious that you weren’t going to come, Laurel hardly said a word the rest of the night.”
Claire would be able to reassure Laurel tonight. They had that date, which she didn’t want to go on. “I’m fine. Really. You guys need to quit worrying.”
Carrie’s hand came out again, this time to loosen the fastening of the drape. “You were just a little sick? That’s all it was?”
“That’s right.”
She looked slightly hurt. “But we called, and when you didn’t answer, a couple of us came by. You weren’t home.”
Claire hurried to shore up the lie. “I must’ve walked over to Leanne’s.”
“Your car was gone, so we knocked at Leanne’s door. She said she hadn’t seen you.”
“I guess I saw her later, after I got back.” Claire gave a laugh she hoped didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. She really didn’t want her association with Isaac to get out. She had to come to terms with too many other things first. “I drove over to my parents’. You know how it is when you feel sick. Sometimes you want someone else to take care of you.”
Uncertainty flickered in Carrie’s eyes. “Oh, you were at Tug and Roni’s.”
She hoped they hadn’t checked there, too. Claire wouldn’t put it past them. She loved every member, but a few of them didn’t know how to mind their own business. Of course, the same could be said about most people in Pineview. “For a while.”