Part 37 (1/2)

”Well, maybe I'll stop back later.”

”Yes, you should,” she said.

”Nice talking with you,” he said, extending his hand politely. ”My name's Julian, by the way. Julian Graham.

Keely shook his hand. ”Keely,” she said. And then she stopped herself-before she spoke her last name. ”Nice to meet you.”

ALL THE WAY OVERto Ingrid's house, Keely's mind was racing. Veronica Weaver. There was no proof that the remains Maureen had planned to exhume were Veronica Weaver's, and yet Keely felt a sickening certainty that they were. She felt light-headed, almost faint at the thought that perhaps it was Veronica Weaver that Richard and Mark had killed.

Oh G.o.d,she thought.Wait until Lucas finds out.She could hardly bear the thought of it. If he learned that Mark had been involved in the death of his daughter-in-law . . .But no,she thought.It couldn't be.She remembered Betsy saying that Veronica had called them from Las Vegas. They'd spoken to her. So it couldn't have been Veronica.

Right,Keely thought as she turned down Swallow Street. That meant it was someone else, not Veronica. Besides, Mark would never have done that to Lucas, the man who had adopted him. He wors.h.i.+pped Lucas. It was impossible. And yet, even as she thought it, she felt her stomach churn. Mark had lied to her so successfully. Couldn't he have lied to Lucas, too?

Keely pulled into Ingrid's driveway, determined to hide her fears from Ingrid. She walked up to the front door. It opened before she could even reach for the doork.n.o.b or tap on the knocker. Dylan stood there, holding the door open for her.

”Hi, sweetie,” she said.

”Hey, Mom.”

”How are you doing? How was the first day back?”

Dylan shrugged. ”Not too bad,” he said.

Keely felt a surge of relief.Thank you, G.o.d,she thought.Not too badwas tantamount to enthusiasm at Dylan's age. ”Well, good,” she said. ”I want to hear all about it.”

Abby, squealing as her mother came in the door, began to toddletowards her. Keely scooped her up and held her close. Ingrid emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an ap.r.o.n.

”Ingrid, thank you so much,” said Keely. ”I hope they didn't tire you out.”

”Are you kidding?” Ingrid scoffed. ”They were perfect. What have you been up to this afternoon? Everything all right?”

Part of Keely wished she could confide in the older woman. She felt such a need for someone to talk to. An image of Dan Warner sprang to her mind again, but she firmly pushed it down. ”Nothing much,” she lied. She couldn't burden Ingrid with these sordid details about Mark. And especially not about Richard. The older woman wasn't well enough. ”I had some business about the estate,” she said. The all-purpose excuse.

Ingrid nodded. ”No end to the paperwork,” she said.

”Dylan, honey, get your book bag. We need to get going,” said Keely as she bent down and collected Abby's things.

”I wish you could stay for supper,” said Ingrid.

”When you're better,” said Keely firmly. ”We've imposed enough on you for one day.”

Ingrid put her arms out to Dylan, who gave her a fierce hug. Keely was struck, as she always was, at the depth of feeling between them. Ingrid pulled back from Dylan's embrace and looked him sternly in the eye. ”You keep your head up and don't you let anybody bother you. They may not appreciate you over at that school, but I do.”

”I'll be okay, Grandma,” he said, smiling and kissing the top of her head.

Ingrid waved as they went down the walk and got into the SUV. Once they were buckled into their seat belts and the SUV had pulled out of the driveway, Keely glanced at Dylan. ”Why did Grandma say that?” she asked. ”Was somebody bothering you at school?”

Dylan shook his head. ”Not really. She was waiting outside for me in the car and she saw some kid poke me as we were coming down the steps.”

”What do you mean, poke you?” Keely asked. ”You mean like a punch?”

”No, I mean like a friendly poke,” Dylan said impatiently. ”Mom, it was nothing. Believe me. I know the difference.”

Keely sighed. ”I guess you do, honey.”

”Trust me, I do,” he said.

Keely nodded. ”Have you got a lot of homework?” she asked. There was something so soothing to her about the routine questions, the concerns of everyday life.

Dylan rolled his eyes. ”Really boring c.r.a.p. I have to do a paper on the separation of powers in the federal government. Everybody's supposed to do one branch. I've got to do research on the Supreme Court.”

”That should be interesting,” protested Keely.

Dylan made snoring noises.

Keely sighed with relief. Teenage melodrama. It was so . . . normal.”Well, I'm sure you'll find everything you need to know about it on the Internet.”

”I guess,” he said disinterestedly. She glanced over at him. He was staring out the window, but the expression on his face was not stormy.I can manage anything as long as my kids are all right,she thought.

When they reached the house and went inside, Keely heard the phone ringing. Dylan rushed to answer it, but there was no one on the line by the time he reached it. He hung the phone up and checked the number of the last incoming call. ”Who was it?” Keely asked as she removed Abby's jacket. Then she got the baby a cup of juice from the refrigerator.

”Dunno,” he said dejectedly. ”Don't recognize the number.”

Keely glanced over his shoulder at the number he had written down, but she didn't recognize it either. She looked at Dylan curiously.”Were you expecting to hear from someone?” she asked.

”No,” he said, too quickly. ”I'm going upstairs.”

Keely nodded. She had a feeling he might have been hoping Nicole would call, but she didn't want to mention that the Warners seemed to be away. She knew if she did, he would deny any interest in talking to Nicole and would resent her interference.Okay,she thought.I'll keep it to myself.

After Dylan tramped up the stairs to his room, Keely sat down atthe kitchen table and thought about Mark. Before last night, her every thought of Mark had been one of sorrow and a longing for the life they were making together, a life that had been abruptly destroyed.What a difference a day makes,she thought. Now, when she thought of him, there was a small part of her that felt . . . satisfied that he was dead. Although she could never admit it out loud, a small corner of her heart felt that maybe he had gotten what he deserved.

The doorbell rang, startling her out of her vengeful reverie, and she looked out the kitchen window to see who was at her door. She recognized Phil Stratton's car.Is there no end to this?she thought wearily. And then, suddenly, she remembered that she had asked him to come, to talk to Dylan. She went to the door and opened it. Phil stood on the doorstep looking pained. ”Mrs. Weaver, could I come in?” he asked.

Keely made a welcoming gesture with one hand, and Phil walked into the living room in front of her. He sat down. Keely picked up Abby and sat down opposite him, holding the baby on her lap. Abby snuggled contentedly against her mother, chewing on a rubber doughnut.

”Are you here to talk to Dylan?” said Keely.

Phil frowned and hesitated, as if he didn't know where to begin. Finally, he said, ”No. It's about Maureen Chase.”

”What about her?” Keely asked warily.

”Tell me again why you went over there. You wanted to ask her about some phone calls, you said?”

Keely shook her head. ”Look, Detective. When we talked at Maureen's house you suggested to me that she might have been stalking my husband. And I wanted to believe that. With all my heart. But apparently that was not the case. There's no point in beating around the bush. I've since found out that she was probably having an affair with my husband before he died. So if that's what you're leading up to, save your breath. I already know.”

Phil looked at her with raised eyebrows.

Keely frowned. ”You didn't know that?”