he confirmed quietly, clearly as uncomfortable with mentioning her father’s death as she was.
Before she knew it, Emma was in his arms, gathered close against all that solid, reassuring strength. After feeling cold and empty since the call had come, it felt good to feel so much heat and energy, to feel alive.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he held her tight. “You can’t imagine how sorry.”
Emma couldn’t answer. The words wouldn’t come. Instead, the tears just continued to fall, soaking his shirt, ruining what little was probably left of her makeup, and not doing a damn thing to wash away the hurt.
Matt didn’t seem to mind. He let her cry herself out, until she finally gave him a watery half smile and apologized.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said, his own voice thick with emotion. “Your dad is…was like a father to me. I owed him more than you’ll ever know. I’m sick about this.”
Emma pulled a wad of tissues from her pocket and blotted ineffectively at her face. “What happened? Do you know? Has the medical examiner made any sort of ruling?” she asked. “Did Dad have a heart attack?”
Matt’s mouth formed a grim line. “Let’s get your bags and get out of here. We can talk on the drive home.”
Emma wanted to argue, but what was the point? The answers wouldn’t be one bit different ten minutes from now, an hour from now…a lifetime from now. And in the end, what difference would they make, really? Her father—the man who had made up stories to chase the monsters from a little girl’s bedroom—would still be dead.
They were twenty minutes into the ride when she decided she was ready to know everything Matt knew. “Matt, tell me what happened.”
“I wish I could. The ME doesn’t have anything conclusive yet. Maybe by the end of the day, maybe not for a few days till all the toxicology reports come in.”
“Toxicology reports?”
“To see if there were any drugs or even alcohol in his blood.”
“Don’t be absurd. Dad rarely drank and he certainly never took drugs.”
“Not even medications?” Matt asked.
Emma realized she didn’t know. He could have been on a dozen different prescriptions and no one would have thought to tell her. She sighed. “I don’t know.” She regarded him evenly. “What do you think happened? Did he miss the curve?”
“That’s what I want to believe,” he said tightly, but he wouldn’t look at her.
She heard the same doubts in his voice that had echoed in her head for hours now. “Matt, there’s something else, something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
“Not now, Em. Let’s wait for the reports.”
“I need to know, dammit!”
He gave her a look filled with sympathy. “I know you do. We all do, but what good is it to have speculation? You need facts, not theories.”
She drew in a deep breath and asked the question that had plagued her all the way home. “Could he have driven into the lake on purpose?”
“Don’t go there, Emma.”
“Is it possible?” she asked again.
“Anything’s possible, but he didn’t leave a note, at least not that we’ve found so far. There wasn’t one in the car, at the diner or at the house.”
“Then you did search for one?” To her that was damning proof that Matt thought there was something odd about the way her father had died.
“Of course.”
“So you believe suicide’s a possibility, don’t you?” she asked, pushing the point because she had to.
“It’s one of them,” he admitted with obvious reluctance. “Why would you think that, though?”
“Andy called me a couple of days ago. He was really worried about Dad. He said he’d been acting weird for a while. He wanted me to come home.” She blinked back tears. “I told him no.”
Matt reached for her hand. “And now you’re blaming yourself,” he concluded. “Don’t. What good will that do? We don’t know what happened last night, Emma. Until we do, cut yourself some slack.”
“Have you talked to Mom yet?”
“Not really. She…” He sighed. “She was in no shape to be questioned last night.”
“Andy or Jeff?”
“Andy’s scared. He’s not making much sense right now. He’s blaming himself.”
“And me,” she said, half to herself. “He must be blaming me.”
Matt shook his head. “Not aloud, anyway. He’s too caught up in his own guilt. He thinks if he and your father hadn’t fought at the diner yesterday, everything would have been okay. He’s sure your father was still upset, too upset to be behind the wheel of the car.”
“What do you think?”
“That’s grief talking. I was there when they fought. It was nothing, just the usual father-teen spat, but Andy’s not ready to hear that yet. As for Jeff, all I got from him was attitude.”
Emma regarded him with surprise. The way she remembered it, her younger brother had idolized Matt. “Jeff was giving you attitude?”
“I asked him to stay with your mom while I came to get you. He told me I wasn’t his boss, that somebody else could do it, that he had things to do.”
“Jeff said that?” Emma was genuinely shocked. “What things does he have to do that could possibly be more important right now?”
“He’s angry and confused. It wasn’t personal,” he said, making excuses for Jeff. “He’s just taking it out on the only person available. He can’t very well yell at your mom. He’ll be okay.” He glanced sideways at her. “You’re going to have to step in and take charge, you know. Your mom’s in denial. She kept telling me I was making it up, that I was lying to her just to hurt her for some reason. I think a part of her is absolutely convinced that your father will walk in the door any second now.”
Emma regarded him ruefully. “I felt the same way when one of your officers called me. I kept telling him he had to be mistaken, that my father couldn’t possibly be dead.”
“I’m sorry I had a stranger call,” he said. “I wanted to do it myself, but I had my hands full with your mother at that point and I thought you needed to know right away so you could make plans to get down here.”
“It’s okay. I doubt the news would have gone down any easier, if you’d been the one delivering it. If Jeff refused to stay with her, who’s there now?”
“Helen hasn’t left, though your mother won’t see her. She won’t see
