hurry.
Alabama finally seemed to realize that she wasn’t open to small talk. He tucked his handkerchief back into his jeans pocket. He walked over to one of the benches and sat down. He pulled out his phone. His thumbs worked across the screen.
Andy glanced behind her, wondering what was taking Laura so long. Then she scanned the front parking area for Gordon. Her father was probably in the parking deck, which meant he would be at least twenty minutes because the woman working the booth had to talk to every single person who handed her a ticket to get out.
All she could do was sit down on a bench three down from Alabama. Every muscle in Andy’s body felt like an overstretched rubber band. Her head throbbed. Her stomach was sour. She checked her phone to see if Gordon had texted back, but he would never look at his phone while he was driving because it was dangerous.
The sliding doors opened. Andy felt relief, then trepidation, upon seeing her mother. The orderly pushed the wheelchair to a stop beside the curb. Laura was wearing a cotton candy pink Belle Isle Medical Center T-shirt that was too big for her slender frame. She was clearly in pain. Her face was the color of notebook paper. Her good hand was wrapped around the arm of the chair in a death grip.
Andy asked, “Didn’t they give you anything?”
Laura said nothing, so the orderly volunteered, “The surgery meds are wearing off. The doc offered her a script but she wouldn’t take it.”
“Mom—” Andy didn’t know what to say. Laura wouldn’t even look at her. “Mother.”
“I’m fine,” Laura insisted, though her teeth were gritted. She asked the orderly, “Do you have a cigarette?”
“You don’t smoke,” Andy said, just as her mother reached for a Marlboro from the pack that the orderly pulled from his shirt pocket.
The man cupped his hand as he flicked the lighter.
Andy stepped away from the smell.
Laura didn’t seem to notice. She took a deep drag, then coughed out white puffs of smoke. She held the cigarette awkwardly, pinched between her thumb and forefinger the way a junkie would.
“I’m all right,” Laura said, her voice a raspy whisper. “I just need some space.”
Andy took her at her word. She stepped farther away, putting distance between herself and her mother. She looked at the parking deck, willing Gordon to hurry. She started to cry again, but quietly. She didn’t know what to do. None of this made any sense.
Laura said, “There are some boxes at your father’s house.”
Andy’s lips trembled. Silence eluded her. She had to have answers. “What did I do wrong?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Laura smoked the cigarette. “I just need to stop coddling you. You need to learn to stand on your own two feet.”
“By moving in with Dad?” She needed this to make sense. Laura always made sense. “Mom, please—”
Laura took a last hit from the cigarette, then handed it to the orderly to finish. She told Andy, “Pack what you need for the night. Your dad won’t let you stay with him forever. You’ll work out a budget. You’ll see what you can afford. You could move to Atlanta, or even back to New York.” She looked up at Andy from her chair. “You have to go, Andrea. I want to be alone now. I’ve earned the right to be alone.”
“I didn’t …” the words got tangled in Andy’s mouth. “I never—”
“Stop,” Laura said. She had never talked to Andy this way. It was as if she hated her. “Just stop.”
Why?
“Thank God,” Laura muttered as Gordon’s BMW glided to a stop in front of the wheelchair ramp.
“Help me up.” Laura held out her hand for the orderly, but the guy in the Alabama hat was suddenly at her side.
He said, “Happy to be of service, ma’am.”
If Andy hadn’t been watching closely, she would’ve missed the look that flashed across her mother’s face. Panic? Fear? Disgust?
He said, “Up you go.”
“Thank you.” Laura let him lift her to standing.
Gordon came around the car and opened the door. He told Alabama, “I’ve got it from here.”
“No problem, big guy.” Alabama didn’t relinquish his hold. He guided Laura down to the front seat, then gently lifted her legs as she turned to face the front. “Take care, now.”
Gordon said, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Alabama offered Gordon his hand. “I’m sorry for the situation your wife and daughter are in.”
“Uh—yes.” Gordon was too polite to correct him about his marital status, let alone refuse to shake his hand. “Thank you.”
Alabama tipped his hat at Andy as she got into the back of the car. He shut the door before she could slam it in his face.
Gordon got behind the wheel. He sniffed the air with visible distaste. “Have you been smoking?”
“Gordon, just drive.”
He waited for her to look at him. She did not. He put the car in gear. He drove away from the portico, past the entrance to the parking garage, then pulled over and parked the car. He turned to Laura. His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
“No,” she said. “Not here. Not now.”
He shook his head slowly back and forth.
“Andy doesn’t need to hear this.”
Gordon didn’t seem to care. “The kid’s father was Bobby Helsinger. Did you know that?”
Laura’s lips pursed. Andy could tell she knew.
Gordon said, “He was the sheriff of Bibb County before a bank robber blew off his head with a shotgun. This was six months ago, around the same time the detective says Jonah Helsinger started weaponizing.”
The vest and gunbelt.
Palazzolo had told them that Jonah bought it off Amazon six months ago.
Gordon said, “I looked up the obituary on my phone. Jonah’s got three uncles who are cops, two cousins who are in the military. His mother used to work at the district attorney’s office in Beaufort before she went private. The family’s practically law enforcement royalty.” He waited for Laura to say something. “Did you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
Laura took a sharp breath before speaking. “His family royalty does not negate the fact that he murdered two people.”
“He didn’t just murder them. He planned it. He knew exactly what he was doing. He had maps and—” Gordon shook his head, like he could not believe how stupid
