“Well, your father was the detective. And I”—she brandished an imaginary knife—“was the killer.”

“Holy cow,” whispered Anthony. The killer points of view in the Drug Me Tender series were all written in second person—a nearly impossible voice to sustain over one book, never mind seven. He’d always been impressed that his father had pulled it off. But his father hadn’t pulled it off. His mother had pulled it off.

“There are many more examples,” Dorothy said. “The Beauty’s Beast. Red as Rubies. Jury of Peers. I’d have to look at a bibliography of all of his work to sort it all out.”

“Not his work,” said Anthony. “Your work too. Your collective work. Mom, I still don’t get it. Can you explain it to me further, so I can understand, how you could be doing this all this time, how you were okay with it, and how he was okay with it?”

“I’m not sure I can completely explain it, Anthony. Marriages are complicated.” She paused, and looked up to the ceiling for several seconds. When she met Anthony’s eyes again she said, “I’ve loved your father forever, Anthony. Forever. Since before leggings counted as pants. Since before the Beatles broke up, and the wall came down.”

The Beatles broke up, and the wall came down. That was beautiful. Poetry. His mother did have a way with words.

“And you didn’t mind,” said Anthony. “You never minded.”

“Who said I never minded?” There was something in her gaze he’d never seen before. “Maybe that’s one of the reasons why I’m here right now, Anthony, why I took Max and fled. Maybe it’s because all of a sudden I minded.”

Plot twist, Anthony thought.

“Maybe it’s because I’m tired. Maybe it’s because I want to finish our current contract, and be done.”

“You do?”

“I want to stop.”

“You should stop, then, Mom.”

“I’m ready. I’m ready for our current contract to be our last. But he’s not.” Major plot twist. There was so much to absorb. Anthony’s head was spinning.

“And also, Anthony?”

The purple flag was up. A storm was coming. His father might be on the island. He needed to make sure Cassie and Max were safe. And there was only one person he wanted to talk to about all of this.

“Anthony?” his mother said again. “There’s something else, something really important. There’s one more thing—”

Anthony’s thoughts were flying; there was a surge of adrenaline flooding him. The flag. The storm. The father. Joy.

“Mom—let’s talk later, okay? I have to do something. I’ll be back, as soon as I can be.”

Chapter 53

LU

“WHERE ARE THE boys?” Jeremy asked. Nancy had gone home. She’d spoken to Jeremy, she told Lu, and now it was up to the two of them to talk it through.

Lu was too nervous to sit still, so she puttered around the kitchen. “They walked over to the club,” she said. “There’s melted crayon painting today!” She tried to make it sound as if melted crayon painting were something to celebrate.