Page 55 of The Family Cross

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Thank you, Chief.”

But after we left his office, I could see the skepticism in my partner’s face.

“Don’t know how much enthusiasm we’re going to get from the same two detectives who blew off the first killing,” he muttered.

“I hear you, but we need the bodies.”

Around seven that evening, after talking to Hayes and Winthrop and working out a plan of attack for the morning, Sampson and I went our separate ways.

No one had turned on the outside lights, and my house looked dark from the front. But as soon as I opened the door, I heard people talking and laughing.

In the kitchen, Bree was helping my mother’s sister and sister-in-law put the final touches on a meal of roast chicken, red potatoes, and asparagus spears.

In the living room, the night nurses, Bobby and Juanita, were back on duty and taking my grandmother’s vital signs. Damon was sitting in a chair by her bed. Ali was on the couch doing homework.

It all looked so calm and nonchaotic after the long, high-pressure day I’d had that I was suddenly exhausted.

Bree came over and gave me a hug and kiss. “You look like you’ve been through the wringer.”

“And a mud pit,” I said, gesturing at my shoes, which were still filthy. “How’s Nana?”

“Language is still off, but she’s gone the last twelve hours without another cardiac episode,” Bree said. “Nurses seem happy overall.”

She filled me in on her visit to Frost and Lear. “Frost claimed to know nothing about the murders, but he’s no dummy. There was something off about the guy. Very smooth, calculating. You and John should go talk to him, but he’ll probably be lawyered up by then.”

“We’ll put a visit high on our list,” I said.

Aunt Connie announced that dinner was ready. As we had the night before, we all served ourselves in the kitchen, then gathered in chairs and on the couch near Nana’s hospital bed and ate off plates in our laps.

Aunt Connie came over with the meal she’d blended up for Nana to eat.

“She’s fit as a fiddle,” Juanita said.

“Fiddle crack head,” my grandmother said, then frowned. “End of fiddle called?”

“That’s called a scroll, Nana,” Ali said from the couch.

“Crack scroll fiddle, then,” she said. She seemed to notice me. “How Alex?”

I was confused by Nana’s strange speech but said, “Tired and very happy to see you.”

“Jannie?” Nana Mama asked.

Damon raised his hand. “She ran fast in her first heat. Enough to qualify for the finals tomorrow. She said it will be live on the NCAA site at two p.m.”

“No miss,” my grandmother said, and then took a spoonful of the puree Aunt Connie had blended. “Eat all time.”

After Nana had had her fill, Ali said, “Nana, could you tell us more about your first husband, Walker Arnold?”

“Story there. I not,” she said, shifting in her bed. “But, mmm, yes. Difficult.”

50

FOR THE NEXT HOUR, as the night nurses kept a close eye on her, Nana Mama labored to fill us in on this part of her history. She floored us with a few new facts about her life.

After walking out on Walker Arnold and getting an annulment, my grandmother spent some time working as a maid back in Starksville.

“Hard work,” Nana Mama said.