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Chapter Twelve
Hell had nothing on the next few days.
I called the hospital immediately after hanging up the phone with my PI to learn that Rob was in critical condition and in surgery. He’d wrapped his truck around a telephone pole. His girlfriend had been a passenger and had sustained minor injuries, however he hadn’t been so lucky. Terms like: internal bleeding, ruptured spleen, and severe burns were mentioned in the doctor’s briefing to me. Apparently, the truck had caught on fire. By morning the word was simple.
Death.
Six days after receiving the call about the accident, I sat in the front row of chairs, graveside. The cemetery was small, situated outside of the town where Rob’s parents now lived, two hours from Charlotte. Dry eyed, I concentrated on my little boy sitting on my lap. He was fidgeting because what toddler understands funeral etiquette let alone this was for his father.
Since I’d arrived, I’d been caught in a whirlwind, working with the funeral home, the hospital, and my attorney, who confirmed that, yes, I remained Rob’s next of kin. His burial was modest and without police honors, in light of the charges pending against him, but I’d done my best to abide by his parents’ wishes.
The most surprising fact I learned was that his death benefits and life insurance still had me listed as the beneficiary.
Although I had no interest in the money personally, I would take anything I received and put it toward Tristan’s college fund. Unfortunately, once Rob’s mother found out, this increased the tension.
And she wasn’t the only one less than thrilled to have me here.
My eyes, shielded by dark sunglasses, slid over his twenty-one-year-old girlfriend. She sat across from me, next to Rob’s parents, glaring daggers in my direction.
After his coffin was lowered in the ground, I watched his grieving mother and father each toss in a rose. His mom swallowed hard and gave me a slight nod.
I got up, holding Tristan on my hip, and gave him a flower to toss in as well. I might not have any tears at the loss of the man who’d made my life hell for over two years, but I wouldn’t deny my little boy the right to say goodbye to his father. That’s why, despite this being rough, I was here. For Tristan. I refused to be the mother who kept her son from attending his father’s funeral.
There was a lot of sobbing from the girlfriend, who tossed her rose last and then glowered at me like I was the interloper once they started shoveling in dirt.
Goodbye, Robert, I murmured to myself, feeling sadness over the sandy-haired teenage boy I’d fallen in love with long ago. If I was going to grieve, it would be for the man I used to know, not for the prescription-drug-addicted, dirty cop who’d turned into a person I didn’t recognize.
Brian’s arm went around my shoulders, and I leaned into the strength of him. Along with Sasha, he’d insisted on being here for me today. My mother and stepfather were present, too. I was grateful to have all the support. With one last glance, we walked silently to where the car was waiting.
As we opened the doors, I cringed as I heard Rob’s mother’s voice calling out.
“Juliette,” she huffed. She was a larger woman and had obviously rushed over to address me.
It was unfortunate that over these last tension-filled days they hadn’t said one kind word and had opted instead to act hostile. I’d chosen the high road, but it wasn’t easy. Especially when Rob’s mother wholeheartedly believed her son had been framed for drug use and was innocent of all charges.
Not even the toxicology report showing he’d been using when he’d veered off the road into the pole had swayed them. But it wasn’t my business or, frankly, my job to convince them otherwise. Let them think what they wanted about their son. And about me. None of it mattered.
I stood by the car, waiting for her to catch up while I held Tristan on my hip. He was already rubbing his eyes. It was late for nap time, and he was tired.
“You should come by the house with Tristan. Or better yet, I could take him with us. We don’t have a car seat, but it’s not too far of a drive to the house, and we’ll drive slowly.”
Uh, no, definitely not happening. But she’d just buried her youngest son so I felt some measure of compassion even if the woman had taken some horrible potshots at me this week.
“I appreciate the offer, Betty, but it’s Tristan’s nap time. Besides, I wouldn’t feel comfortable going when Delilah intends to be there.” It was obvious that his parents had formed some sort of bond with Rob’s girlfriend, most likely because she’d been with him during the accident. For my part, I wouldn’t expose my son to her glares and hostility.
Betty’s eyes flashed with a temper reminiscent of the one I’d seen often enough in her son. “Tristan is Rob’s son and all we have left of him. It would be nice of you to put aside your petty differences and let him be with his daddy’s parents on the day we had to bury our son.”
“I’d be happy to bring him by tomorrow to visit. We’ll be staying overnight to ensure we can do that.” Although I was in a hurry to go home, I wasn’t completely heartless. I wanted them to spend some time with Tristan. Suspicious, however, that over the last week I’d been in town, today was the first time they’d stopped taking potshots at me and had simply asked for Tristan to visit. I tamped down on the thought that it might be because today they wanted people to see him there. It seemed they weren’t actually interested in spending time with their grandson but more in the show of it.
“That’s not good enough.”
No. It never was.
“I’m sorry.” I was trying to be reasonable, but there was no way I was letting my baby go home with people he didn’t know and who had Rob’s druggie girlfriend staying with them.
“You’re sorry. You should be sorry. You drove Rob to this. And then, when he needed you the most, you disappeared. His death is on you. I always knew he could do better than trailer trash—”
Her verbal assault took me off guard. She’d been passive-aggressive—emphasis on aggressive—and resentful of my presence, but this was so much more. This was an all-out attack.
