“I’m talking to my sister and making a start to narrow the distance between us. She’s paid for her crimes. If I can forgive her, why can’t you?”

I heard them discuss me as though I weren’t there. The humiliation of Denton listening to the dysfunction made me cringe inside. “No need to quarrel. If one of you will call Sheriff Wendall when Mom’s time is over, I’d appreciate it. And I’d like to attend the funeral.”

“Out of the question.” Dad stiffened. “I won’t have a celebration of life destroyed by a killer.”

Marissa stepped between Dad and me. “Dad, I will speak to my sister outside alone, and I will contact her when Mom passes.”

“The consequences of rebellion are ugly. Ask Shelby about the last fifteen years.”

Marissa whirled toward him, an action I’d never seen. “Think about Aria gone from your life.” She hooked her arm in mine and led me to the front yard. There we faced the street. “I apologize for Dad’s rude behavior.”

“I hurt him beyond repair. Please apologize to him. You have too much at stake.”

“You’ve always thought of me first.”

“I love you, and the world is a better place because you’re a shining, beautiful light. Now, go tell Dad he’s right, and you don’t think I’ve changed. I’m fine. I have a good job. I’m designing jewelry, and I have wonderful new friends.”

“Like Agent McClure?”

“The jury’s still out on him. It’s a strange relationship.”

“Maybe something more than friends?” She tilted her head.

“And how would he explain me to his family full of police officers?”

“Love overcomes a lot of barriers.”

I shook my head. “But not good sense.”

“Can I have your phone number?” she said.

I gave her my burner info, and she borrowed a pen to write the numbers on the palm of her hand.

“Don’t tell anyone you have this.”

“I’ll keep it secret.”

I took her shoulders like she’d grasped mine earlier. “Go. Make peace with Dad.”

Marissa made her way back to the house. At the door, she turned and blew me a kiss like we were girls again. Mom’s words washed over me. Even in her dying days, she suspected the truth.

The first line of The Color Purple swirled through my mind. “You better not never tell nobody but God.”

33

DENTON

The view of Shelby’s and Marissa’s backs through the Pearces’ picture window hijacked reading any facial expressions. But when Marissa walked toward the house and Shelby stayed at the truck with her face to the street, I assumed the conversation had been smeared with bitterness. Neither woman displayed any sign of cohesiveness.

My noncommunication with Clay Pearce left the room eerily quiet. From his stubborn stance, which I’d seen in Shelby, he’d jump down my throat no matter what I said.

Marissa opened the door and with reddened eyes approached her dad. “You’re right. She’s more hardened than before. I’m sorry.”

“Why did you disobey me?”