a sick way it reminded her of a child with a note pinned to his shirt coming home from school. A single word written in blood told them everything they needed to know—
TRAITOR
.
Chapter Ten
Sunday, October 15th
10:30 AM
Before trekking out to Greenlawn Cemetery, Ari stopped at Trader Joe’s and picked up two beautiful bouquets of carnations, her mother’s favorite flower. She had no idea what Richie’s favorite flower had been since he had died so young and such subjects were not part of any discussion with a nine-year-old. She knew, though, that Richie had adored his mother, and most likely, if he had been asked, he would have turned to LuciaAdams and parroted any response she gave.
Her monthly visit to their graves wasn’t born of respect or guilt, but rather for the sake of connection, a bond that she cherished since she had no one else. She would never forgive her father—not completely. He had pushed her away into an abysmal pocket of fear by disowning her at twenty-one, abandoning her because she was gay. Her mother had been nearly helpless at the time, lost in one of her “episodes,” unclear of anything around her. Her entire mental state focused on controlling the pain from the cancer. Her mother had told her it was like staring at the head of a pin, where the slightest shift of attention caused her to fall back into the constant ache raging through her body. Such was her condition when Jack Adams told Ari to leave one evening. It wasn’t until three days later that her motherrealized Ari was gone. She demanded to see her daughter, who refused to return home. As a result, when Lucia felt strong enough, she divorced Jack Adams and moved to Tucson to live with her sister and reestablish her relationship with Ari, who worked for the Tucson P.D. There she spent the rest of her days until she was returned to Phoenix to lie next to her son.
Ari pulled the SUV to the shoulder and walked down three rows to the matching headstones. She gently placed the pink carnations beneath the markers and stepped back. Although she had memorized the inscriptions long ago, she read the etched words as if they were new, as if they might have changed since her visit last month. Her gaze drifted to the empty marker on the other side of Richie. It bore her father’s name, date of birth and, “Love conquers all,” a quotation her parents clearly had selected during happier times. All that was missing was her father’s date of death, and she knew that as her parents’ relationship fell into ruins, her mother would have gladly picked up her and Richie’s plots and moved them halfway across the cemetery if it were possible. When her cell phone rang and she saw her father’s name on the display, her eyes widened. For the second time in two days he had called her just as she was thinking of him.
Weird,
she thought.
She flipped the phone open and sighed before she held it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hi,” he said. The hesitancy in his voice told her that he was still uncomfortable, but he wanted to be familiar, and he wanted her to treat him as she treated others who knew her intimately, the way a relative or a close friend should be. “Am I catching you at a bad time?”
“No, I’m just out here visiting Mom,” she said casually.
“Oh . . . well.”
Her lips formed into a slight smile, one she couldn’t help. He was flustered and she was happy about it. He had treated both of them so poorly that he deserved whatever he got. “I always visit Mom and Richie once a month.” She took great pleasure in uttering Richie’s name to her father, since she knew remorse and regret instantly slit his heart. He had never found Richie’s killer despite an extensive investigation.
“That’s nice,” was all he could say. After a long pause he added, “I think it’s good you visit.”
His sincerity and gentle tone disturbed her, and a pang of remembrance touched her heart, something she did not want to feel. “Why did
TRAITOR
.
Chapter Ten
Sunday, October 15th
10:30 AM
Before trekking out to Greenlawn Cemetery, Ari stopped at Trader Joe’s and picked up two beautiful bouquets of carnations, her mother’s favorite flower. She had no idea what Richie’s favorite flower had been since he had died so young and such subjects were not part of any discussion with a nine-year-old. She knew, though, that Richie had adored his mother, and most likely, if he had been asked, he would have turned to LuciaAdams and parroted any response she gave.
Her monthly visit to their graves wasn’t born of respect or guilt, but rather for the sake of connection, a bond that she cherished since she had no one else. She would never forgive her father—not completely. He had pushed her away into an abysmal pocket of fear by disowning her at twenty-one, abandoning her because she was gay. Her mother had been nearly helpless at the time, lost in one of her “episodes,” unclear of anything around her. Her entire mental state focused on controlling the pain from the cancer. Her mother had told her it was like staring at the head of a pin, where the slightest shift of attention caused her to fall back into the constant ache raging through her body. Such was her condition when Jack Adams told Ari to leave one evening. It wasn’t until three days later that her motherrealized Ari was gone. She demanded to see her daughter, who refused to return home. As a result, when Lucia felt strong enough, she divorced Jack Adams and moved to Tucson to live with her sister and reestablish her relationship with Ari, who worked for the Tucson P.D. There she spent the rest of her days until she was returned to Phoenix to lie next to her son.
Ari pulled the SUV to the shoulder and walked down three rows to the matching headstones. She gently placed the pink carnations beneath the markers and stepped back. Although she had memorized the inscriptions long ago, she read the etched words as if they were new, as if they might have changed since her visit last month. Her gaze drifted to the empty marker on the other side of Richie. It bore her father’s name, date of birth and, “Love conquers all,” a quotation her parents clearly had selected during happier times. All that was missing was her father’s date of death, and she knew that as her parents’ relationship fell into ruins, her mother would have gladly picked up her and Richie’s plots and moved them halfway across the cemetery if it were possible. When her cell phone rang and she saw her father’s name on the display, her eyes widened. For the second time in two days he had called her just as she was thinking of him.
Weird,
she thought.
She flipped the phone open and sighed before she held it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hi,” he said. The hesitancy in his voice told her that he was still uncomfortable, but he wanted to be familiar, and he wanted her to treat him as she treated others who knew her intimately, the way a relative or a close friend should be. “Am I catching you at a bad time?”
“No, I’m just out here visiting Mom,” she said casually.
“Oh . . . well.”
Her lips formed into a slight smile, one she couldn’t help. He was flustered and she was happy about it. He had treated both of them so poorly that he deserved whatever he got. “I always visit Mom and Richie once a month.” She took great pleasure in uttering Richie’s name to her father, since she knew remorse and regret instantly slit his heart. He had never found Richie’s killer despite an extensive investigation.
“That’s nice,” was all he could say. After a long pause he added, “I think it’s good you visit.”
His sincerity and gentle tone disturbed her, and a pang of remembrance touched her heart, something she did not want to feel. “Why did
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