“You’re very young, Ms. Levine,” she said after another moment. “Yes, I know, you’re obviously an adult, old enough to be done with college, working. Twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

I didn’t correct her, just gave something that could pass for a nod.

“When I was your age, Ginny was in school already, I was working two jobs and I had this house, and I wouldn’t have appreciated someone saying how young I was. But from where I sit now, you are young, Ms. Levine. Young means inexperienced. I’m not unhappy to get extra help with my daughter’s case, but I will admit I’m much happier to hear that a Dallas detective is also working it.”

I bit my tongue—hard. How would she react when she realized Michael Kennedy wasn’t much older than me?

“When he comes to me for an interview, I’ll gladly grant it,” she said. “So, to be fair, I’ll do the same for you. I want my daughter’s killer found, and I suppose more people investigating can’t hurt.”

“Thank you.” I wasn’t sure it was the kind of statement that expected thanks, but I appreciated it.

I took out my notebook. “Chief Bruyn is convinced he knows who killed Ginny.”

“Cody Radu.”

“And you think ... ?”

She hesitated, her reluctance to disparage a local warring with other feelings. After a moment, her shoulders dropped, as if conceding the battle.

“I think he’s a bastard,” she said. “A lying, scheming bully. Is he capable of murder, though? No. I doubt he’d dirty his hands like that.”

I thought of the lie I’d spun for Michael. “Would he hire someone?”

That gave her pause. “Yes, if Cody wanted someone dead, I suppose that’s how he’d do it.”

I asked her about Cody and Ginny’s relationship. She didn’t tell me anything I wouldn’t have already guessed. Cody’s relationship with Ginny had been nothing short of toxic, and Paula had hated him for it.

Cody hadn’t even done the typical wealthy-guy seduction and wooed Ginny with a better life. The only thing he gave her was booze and drugs. And black eyes. A lot of black eyes. Look at another man, get a black eye. Couldn’t find someone to baby-sit Kayla when he wanted sex, get a black eye. Didn’t get him a beer fast enough. Wouldn’t entertain his friends. Complained about anything. All earned her a beating.

“But she loved him,” Paula said. “Isn’t that how it always is? The one guy who treats you worse than all the rest, that’s the one you can’t live without.”

I thought of Adam. Not always. But I nodded. “What about Kayla? Did he ever hurt her?”

Paula’s face fairly crumpled with relief. “No, thank God. He wanted nothing to do with Kayla. Wouldn’t have her around.”