Paula turned away slightly at that, and her expression made me kick myself. I’d meant that it was a good thing Kayla wasn’t traumatized, but I guess it was, troubling, too. I saw that in Paula’s face, the relief mingled with regret and sadness that her daughter had raised a child who didn’t particularly mourn her passing.

“Can I get you a coffee? Tea? Cold drink?” she asked.

I could tell she wanted a minute to herself, so I said sure, whatever was easiest.

I’d been too direct. Not enough empathy and compassion. How would Paige handle this?

I looked around the room. There were pictures of Kayla and Ginny. Exactly equal numbers of each, as if Paula had been careful not to favor one. Even as a child, Ginny hadn’t looked happy. Sullen, like the world owed her something and wasn’t paying up. The shots of Kayla were mixed. If her mom was in the picture, she looked uncomfortable. Alone, she looked solemn, but content. It was in the two pictures with Paula that she shone. I could say the same for Paula.

She came back, and I struggled for a way to ease into the case. I noticed papers and textbooks on the table and waved at them. “Kayla told me she’s homeschooled. She said you pulled her out after Bruyn’s grandson had taken crime-scene photos to school.”

“Yes. They made him very popular apparently, so he couldn’t understand why I’d object. Neither could his parents.”

“Seriously?”

“They understood that it upset Kayla, naturally, but they couldn’t see why I’d bring the matter to them. The boy got hold of them himself. They didn’t tell him he could take them to school. Therefore, it clearly wasn’t their fault.”

“Typical,” I muttered.

She nodded and sipped her coffee, both hands wrapped around the mug, gaze dropping into its depths as she murmured, “A child turns out the way we raise her, and if she fails, we’ve failed.”

Shit. I’d stumbled right into that one. I shook my head. “If a kid’s waving around crime-scene photos and his parents do nothing about it, then it’s their fault if he grows up to be an insensitive ass. If they punish him and explain what he did wrong, and he still grows up to be an insensitive ass ...” I shrugged.

Paula nodded, but woodenly. She lowered her mug, hands still folded around it.

“Are you happy with the investigation?” I asked after a minute of silence.

It seemed like the right lead-in. But Paula’s hand tightened around her mug and she said, very carefully, “The sheriff’s department knows its job, and Chief Bruyn is doing his best to support them.”

In other words, despite the antagonism between them, she wasn’t going to question his competence. Not with a stranger, at least.