Read Murder in the South of France, Book 1 of the Maggie Newberry Mysteries Page 31
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gary placed the newspaper on the kitchen table, knowing she was watching him from where she stood at the sink. He reached for his coffee, refusing to look at her.
“Any good headlines?” Darla asked quietly.
“Still complaining about the traffic on the Connector,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.
“You’d think they’d be bored with that.” She carried her coffee to the table and sat down with him. “They’ve only had the Connector about fifty years now.”
Gary noted the distancing pronoun “they” instead of the more familiar “we” and felt a small bloom of satisfaction. She was coming around. She was already starting to say good-bye to this place.
Darla cleared her throat. “Anything about Deirdre in the paper?”
Gary shook his head. “Nothing much. You can’t expect one little ol’ murder to occupy more than a few inches of media space. Not when it’s a full two days old now.”
“Gary.” She touched his hand and he was forced to look at her. Her eyes were sad. He hated to see it but he couldn’t weaken now. He couldn’t ease up on her when they were so close.
“What?” he said flatly.
“You talked to the police. What do they think happened to poor Deirdre?”
“Darla, I don’t know, okay? Is there any more coffee in the pot?”
“But do they think it’s the same guy? I mean, the guy who killed Maggie’s sister?”
“Look, Darla, you obviously know more about it than I do so why are you—”
“Why are you acting like this?” Her face dissolved into an expression of frustration and despair. “I feel like I’m all alone in this, Gary,” she whispered, reaching for his hand again.
Gary put the paper down and tried to show her a face of firmness and pity. He wished he didn’t have to act, but he knew that if he was honest with her she’d start rationalizing why it all happened. She’d find a toehold in it all and then the battle to stay would continue. No, he couldn’t let her backslide now.
“I guess when it comes to dying, we’re all alone,” he said.
“Gary!” She spilled her coffee in the saucer and he noticed that her hand was shaking. “Is that all you can say for poor Deirdre? That we’re all alone when it’s our turn to die?”
“I’m sorry,” Gary said, pushing his own coffee away. “I didn’t realize it was my reaction to Deirdre’s death we were talking about. I thought we were talking about how alone you felt in dealing with it.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks and he steeled himself to avoid comforting her. Doesn’t she know I’m doing this for her and Haley? That emigrating is the only way to save us all?
“It could’ve been us, Darla. It could’ve been Haley, just as easily.”
“What are you talking about?” She was crying, but the question wasn’t real. She knew what he was talking about. Because she was afraid now, too.