taking the words as a compliment. “I told you I’d put some grit in your gizzard.”
Alex grimaced. “That sounds very painful. I’d rather have chocolate in my gizzard; it’s a whole lot sweeter.”
“Heaven forbid.” Buck rolled his eyes. “Women!”
“And just so you understand me—I’ll work on any case I want. If I get emotionally involved, well, that’s my choice.”
Her response was met with a scowl, but no scathing remarks were forthcoming.
“Mrs. Braxton thinks she’s already found her son. I just have to prove that this man is or isn’t the right man. Very easy case.”
“Just make sure it doesn’t interfere with our work.”
“I’ll do it in my spare time. It’s not like I have a social life or a family.”
“If you moved out on your own, maybe you would.”
“And who would keep you and Naddy from killing each other?”
“Your grandmother can hold her own, she doesn’t need you to protect her.”
Nadene and Buck did not have a typical mother-son relationship. Buck was the result of a teenage pregnancy and Naddy had been married so many times that it was hard to keep track.
Her grandmother drank, smoked and loved to have a good time. Though Buck was a lot like her, he did not appreciate those qualities in his mother. As a bail bondsman, Naddy had led a colorful life. At seventy-eight, she was now retired. Her days were spent surfing the Internet for criminals. She did a lot of research on missing children and had even helped to find a couple.
When Alex was younger she used to wish her grandmother was more conventional, yet she had always been comforted by the thought that whatever she had to go through in this world, Naddy would be behind her all the way.
“Thought the old battle-ax would have moved out by now.” Buck’s voice brought her back to the conversation. “Hell, she’s gone ten years without getting married. That has to be a record.”
“She’s getting older. I think Naddy is with us to stay.”
“Ain’t that a helluva thing. She was never there for me as a kid and now I’m supposed to take care of her.”
Alex watched the man who was her father. With his crew cut hairstyle, shaggy gray eyebrows, slant for a mouth and sagging features, Buck Donovan was as hard as they come. Naddy had a part in making him that way but Alex wondered what kind of feelings he had for her, his own daughter. Buck probably couldn’t define them himself. And asking him would be a mortal sin, she was sure.
She caught his eyes. “She was there for me when my mother died. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“Maybe. Might be the only reason she’s still in my house.”
That comment was like a crumb to a starving person and she savored it as such. Those crumbs were few and far between.
“I’ll see you at home.”
Was she pathetic or what? Thirty-four years old and still living at home with her father and her grandmother. She needed a life. Bad.
SHE NEGOTIATED the Dallas traffic the same way she’d handled her father—with a large dose of patience and gritted teeth. She turned off US-75 and headed for the Lake Highlands suburb where they lived, her body greedily soaking up the coolness of the car’s air-conditioning.
She had a love-hate relationship with the Texas summers. She loved them when she was relaxing on the beach in Galveston or Padre Island, but she hated them in the trenches of Dallas. There weren’t many opportunities to get away for a weekend—Buck believed in her keeping her nose to the grindstone—but if she could find one, she’d take it. All her girlfriends were married, though, and had families. Her relationship with her cop boyfriend, Clay, had ended about a year ago.
Single, unattached and feeling my age. Maybe she should have that made into a bumper sticker. Or, better, single and available. That would certainly draw attention.
She turned into the driveway with a smile. Getting out, she glanced at the rows of brick houses built in the sixties. Buck and her mother Joan had bought their house right after they’d married. They had a large corner lot and Buck had a shop in back where he kept his boat and fishing paraphernalia.
White Rock Lake wasn’t far away and when she was younger she’d spent a lot of time hanging out at the lake with her friends. This had been Alex’s home all her life, but she knew it was time for her to move on—perhaps to find that elusive happiness she’d always been searching for.
Placing her purse and briefcase on the hood of her Jeep Wrangler, she turned on the sprinkler for the wilted Saint Augustine grass, making sure the water reached the blooming crepe myrtles. Alex took care of the yard. Any calls for help from Buck or Naddy she found to be a waste of her time. The sun beat down on her bare head and after the heat of the morning she did something she wouldn’t normally do. She ran through the sprinkler, laughing not caring if the neighbors were watching.
By the time she entered the house, her skin was almost dry. Her clothes were damp from sweat so the extra water didn’t make a difference. The air-conditioning felt wonderful on her wet skin. Pure bliss.
Laying her things on the kitchen table, she saw Naddy sitting at her computer through the open door of her bedroom. Buck’s bedroom was on the right side of the house and Naddy’s on the left, a house clearly divided. Alex occupied the bedroom upstairs and had her private space.
“Hey, Naddy, I’m home,” she called, grabbing a Popsicle out of the freezer.
“Come here, honeychild. I want to show you something.”
Alex walked to Naddy’s bedroom, licking on the icy treat. It was her favorite snack in the summertime, cool, refreshing and… She stopped in Naddy’s doorway. Her bedroom was a disaster. She really shouldn’t be surprised because Naddy tended not to pick up anything.
Buck, on the other hand, was neat and organized. A gene he obviously got from his “low-life loser father” as Naddy often said.
Alex stepped over a pile of dirty clothes. Trying to change her grandmother would be like trying to change the course of the wind or the Texas heat.
“What?” Alex asked, trying to ignore the dirty clothes hanging off of chairs and lying all over the floor. The tumbled sheets partially hid an empty Doritos bag. A couple of empty beer cans stood on the nightstand beside a jar of nuts.
“Look.” Naddy pointed to the screen, squinting at it through the glasses perched on her nose. A tall, big-boned woman, Naddy once had sandy red hair. Now it was completely white, short and stuck out in all directions, mainly because Naddy always forgot to comb it. Her skin was leathery and wrinkled, the skin of a smoker. An unlit cigarette dangled from her lip.
“Why is there a cigarette in your mouth?” Buck had strict rules about smoking in the house. Joan had made them when Alex was born and Buck kept to them, even though he smoked. He always smoked outdoors and Alex had a feeling he adhered to the rule to annoy Naddy.
“Keep your britches on, honeychild.
