Lily stared at Detective Lawlor, head empty and silent.
“AJ wasn’t there,” Lawlor went on. “He’s not answering his cell phone, and when we called his boss at Café Blue, he said AJ didn’t show for his shift last night.”
“What are you saying?”
Lawlor started to answer.
She cut him off. “Where is Paul?”
“At AJ’s apartment with the police, unless they’ve already taken him downtown. He called 911 when he found her body.”
Lily dropped her gaze. Paul had called 911, but he hadn’t called her. He’d let her be blindsided. But it was possible he hadn’t thought how it might affect her, being accosted by law enforcement with such horrible news. In fact, he might not have thought of her at all.
“Do you know who the woman is? It’s not Shea Gallagher, is it? She’s AJ’s fiancée.” Lily wondered how she would bear it. But AJ adored Shea; he wouldn’t hurt her.
“Becca Westin is the victim’s name.” Detective Hatchett looked up from his notepad. “Do you know her?”
“No.” Lily heard herself answer through the watery rush of her relief. “I mean, I don’t know her personally.”
“But you recognize the name,” Hatchett said.
“Yes. She’s one of Shea’s bridesmaids.” Lily thought for a moment. “I met her at Shea’s bridal shower—”
“But your son, Axel—AJ—was a friend of Becca’s? Were they close?” Hatchett asked.
“No, I don’t think so.” Lily looked away, pained anew at how little she knew of her son’s life. It wasn’t deliberate, nor was it out of anger or resentment. She could blame Paul, and sometimes she did, but he couldn’t have assigned her to a back room in AJ’s life if she hadn’t allowed it.
“Would you know of a grudge between them? Could they have had a fight?” Hatchett asked.
“I don’t remember AJ ever mentioning her.” Lily pulled her cell phone from her purse. “I want to call him now.” She switched her gaze between the detectives, and when neither of them objected, she dialed AJ’s number and waited, heart clamoring. The detectives watched her; she felt unnerved by their stares. She felt under suspicion. She willed AJ to answer, but he didn’t, and she was forced to leave a message. “Please call me when you get this,” she said, and no more.
Ending the connection, she glanced at Hatchett. “He’s not answering.”
“Yeah, like I said, we’ve been trying him, too.” Hatchett’s glance on Lily’s lingered, becoming pointed, intent.
She felt dazed. “You can’t think he’s—” She paused, holding the word involved in her mouth. Of course he was involved. A young woman was dead in his apartment.
“Can you think of anyplace he might be, Mrs. Isley?” Detective Lawlor asked, not unkindly.
The ranch, Lily thought, the xL. It was the one place AJ might go if he felt threatened. She debated whether to tell them. Anything you say may be used against you. The warning surfaced from some half-forgotten history in her mind along with brief impressions—metal bracelets cinched around her wrists, a sheriff’s hand on her head ducking her through the squad-car door. Inside, the reek of sweat and old vomit mixed with an underscore of fear had made her gag.
“Your father has a ranch south of here in the Hill Country, doesn’t he? The xL? Outside Wyatt?” Lawlor’s voice got Lily’s attention.
Of course they would already know, she thought. She didn’t bother answering. Lawlor allowed no time anyway.
“We’ve been trying to get in touch with your dad, Jeb Axel, down there. He’s not picking up, either.”
“Well, if you’re asking me where he is, again, he’s a grown man—”
“What about his housekeeper, Winona Ayala? Or her son, Erik? Erik Ayala is a close friend of AJ’s, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but what do either Winona or Erik have to do—”
Lawlor didn’t let her finish. “What do you know about Erik Ayala, Mrs. Isley?”
“What do you mean, what do I know about him?” Everything. I changed his diapers right along with AJ’s, she might have said. Erik was older; his diapers had been toddler size to AJ’s infant size. She and Winona had mothered both boys. And before that, Winona had mothered Lily from the time Lily’s own mother was diagnosed with end-stage ovarian cancer when Lily was ten. Win was home to Lily; Winona was her safe place, although they hadn’t been as close in recent years.
Hatchett took over, peppering her with more questions. “Would Erik know where AJ is?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
“His mother has her own house down there, on xL property, doesn’t she? Erik lived there with her until recently, but now he’s moved into Wyatt, isn’t that right?”
“Why are you asking when it’s so obvious you have the answers?”
“We’re just trying to gather as much information as we can, Mrs. Isley, to help us find your son.”
Hatchett said, “AJ and Shea Gallagher met at the Art Institute, the culinary school, here in Dallas, where they’re both enrolled.”
“Yes,” Lily agreed, when truthfully she wasn’t sure where they’d met. “They finished up their last semester a week ago.”
“Is Shea still in town?”
“No, she’s gone home to her mother’s in Wyatt to get things ready for the wedding. Shea and AJ are being married in her mother’s garden there.”
“Lady we spoke to at the school said they’re going into the restaurant business?” Hatchett looked interested, but for all Lily knew, it was an act.
“It’s more than that, really. They want to open a farm-to-fork here in the city.”
Hatchett turned to Lawlor. “That’s where everything is locally grown and cooked fresh.”
Lawlor said he knew that.
AJ’s ambition to become a chef bewildered Paul. He characterized it as “playing around,” as in, “You can quit playing around now and do something real, something that’ll earn a decent living.” Lily might not have chosen that path for AJ, either, but it was a safer road than the one he’d been headed down before he enlisted.
Lawlor read from his notepad. “Axel and Erik joined the marines back in 2011. Erik couldn’t hack basic and washed out, but your son went on to serve in Afghanistan.” He looked up at Lily. “That cause any problems between Ayala and your son that you know of?”
“Hardly. It must be there in your notes, Detective. Erik is AJ’s best man. Does that sound as if there’s a problem?”
Hatchett fired another question. “Your son’s had some legal trouble in the past, hasn’t he?”
“I’m sure you already know the answers to both questions—to every question you’re asking me.” Lily’s bravado was a fraud.
“He was arrested on a murder charge—let’s see—” Hatchett consulted his notepad.
“Six years ago, in 2010,” Lily said. “He was cleared then, too.”
“Yeah,” Hatchett interrupted. “We know about the insufficient evidence—”