Framed!. Robin Caroll

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СКАЧАТЬ loving this time of the year, driving home from work when the day had already given way to welcoming the night.

      It’d been a long day. Busy, but productive. There were so many calls today from locals wanting to invest in real estate that if Max didn’t know better, he’d think people needed tax write-offs. But it was the wrong time of year and he did know better—the influx of people with money to spend was directly due to Dylan Renault’s death. People were nervous over the leader of Renault Corporation being dead, and from what Max had witnessed at the funeral, it didn’t appear Charla Renault was in any condition to take over the helm of the investment corporation.

      Max didn’t like what’d happened, yet he wasn’t stupid. His own business would suffer if he didn’t provide the service his company was founded upon. But he didn’t have to like making a profit off Ava’s loss.

      Speaking of Ava, she hadn’t called like she said she would. He tried not to be disappointed, tried to rationalize that she probably had a million things to do, but his heart sank to his toes. Max entered his home, his mouth watering for the stir-fry he planned to make. He’d been so busy he’d only had time to gulp down a sandwich from the vendor who made daily visits to the offices along Main and Church streets. His stomach rumbled at the memory.

      “Working late?”

      Max glared at his mother. “What are you doing here again? You can’t just keep letting yourself in, Mom. This is my home.”

      “I just miss you is all.” She used the tone of hers that bordered on whining. How often she’d lamented the fact he’d moved into his own condo years ago.

      Did she really think he’d just live with her forever?

      “Look, I’ve had a long day at work, and all I want to do is make a little stir-fry, catch the news and call it an early night.”

      His mother smiled. “Can I join you? I’ll help cut the vegetables.”

      He opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. His mother didn’t have many friends, mainly because she’d spent her life dedicated to him. While he’d never asked her to, she’d sacrificed everything to see to his happiness. Max let out a sigh. “Sure. Grab the squash and zucchini from the fridge and start chopping.”

      He’d just set up the wok when the phone rang. “Hello.”

      “Max?” Just the way Ava said his name made his stomach quiver, and it wasn’t from hunger.

      “Ava. Is anything wrong?” His mother’s hand froze, knife poised over the squash. She arched a well-drawn eyebrow. Max moved into the living room.

      “No. Yes.” Ava hesitated. “I don’t know. Sheriff Reed was here, asking questions. He’s got me all confused.”

      “How so?”

      “Trying to make a connection between Dylan and Angelina Loring and Leah Farley. All these deaths.”

      “I thought the police had wrapped them all up. Well, except for Dylan’s.”

      “They liked Dylan for Angelina’s murder, but now…well, they found a long, red hair on Dylan’s clothes, and I don’t think it was Angelina’s. Not by the questions the sheriff asked. And I’m still trying to figure out why Dylan was even at Renault Hall.” She sighed. “It doesn’t make sense.”

      “Maybe he went by just to check out the property. Maybe he was considering getting the area appraised.” He tightened his hold on the phone.

      Ava snorted. “Not hardly. Mother forbade us to even step foot on the property.”

      “You never know. Things change. So do people.”

      “I suppose.”

      He hated hearing the pain in her voice. It did strange things to his gut. “Do you want me to come get you and take you somewhere?”

      “No, I just wanted to vent a little.” Her voice hitched as she drew in a shaky breath.

      She didn’t have anyone to talk to—certainly not her mother, by the way she’d carried on at the funeral.

      “We can go somewhere and talk.” He ached to hold her again. Smooth her silky hair and tell her everything would be okay. “I meant what I said. If there’s anything I can do for you…”

      “I appreciate that, but maybe I should just call it a night.”

      “You can call me anytime, you know.”

      “Thanks, Max.” The smile came through in her voice.

      “Good night, Ava.” Turning around to head into the kitchen, he nearly ran smack into his mother hovering in the hallway.

      “You’re going to see her? Ava Renault?”

      He nudged past her and set the phone on its base. “No, I just made the offer.”

      “Why?” His mother cut the knife through the air. “She’s not good enough for you, never was. She’s nothing but trouble.”

      After setting the temperature on the wok, he sliced a chicken breast. “Mom, she’s not trouble. She’s grieving, for pity’s sake.”

      Lenore pointed the tip of the knife at his face. “You mark my words, Maximilion, if you get tangled up with her again, she’s gonna break your heart. For a second time.”

      He didn’t bother answering, just reached for the bell peppers.

      And hoped his mother was dead wrong.

      THREE

      Sleep had remained as elusive to Ava as the mystery surrounding her brother’s death.

      Now, determination to prove herself in the corporate world drove her to dress in a classy business suit and head downstairs.

      Rhett’s barking beckoned Ava down the hall to her mother’s suites at eight. As per usual these days, the door was shut. Ava rapped softly. “Mother?”

      “Go away and leave me alone.”

      The temptation to flee nearly spun Ava in the opposite direction, but she couldn’t disregard her mother’s grief. Squaring her shoulders, Ava turned the knob and pushed open the door. The little dog met her, prancing and whining. “Have you let Rhett out this morning?”

      “I told you to leave me alone.” Charla sat in her wheelchair facing the window, her back to the door.

      Ava ignored her mother’s bitter tone and crossed to the patio door, then flung it open. Crisp, early February air swirled through the rooms. The little dog burst outside into the yard. She faced her mother and nearly gasped aloud. Never before had she seen her so…so unkempt. No makeup, her hair in total disarray, and in the same outfit she’d worn to the funeral. Had she slept in those clothes?

      “Will you please leave now?”

      Maybe she should. She certainly didn’t know what to say. Every instinct she had urged her to do as her mother requested, but СКАЧАТЬ