Cold Hearts by Sala Sharon

Author:Sala, Sharon [Sala, Sharon]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 2015-08-31T14:00:00+00:00

Trey pulled up to his mother’s house, then sat for a few moments gathering his thoughts. With the revelation about Paul’s murder and the letter from the safety deposit box, it was no longer possible to let his mother off the hook about answering questions. It was his opinion that her life was in danger. Whatever she remembered, no matter how vague, he needed to know, and he was counting on her being more receptive to answering his questions than having someone else interview her for him.

He picked up the video recorder as he got out of the cruiser, noticing as he headed toward the house that Trina was home. He frowned. She didn’t usually get off until 4:00 p.m. He hoped nothing had happened to their mom to prompt her early return.

He was on the porch and about to walk in when he remembered the security system and knocked instead.

A few moments later his mother opened the door, which triggered a bell-like sound. It wasn’t the alarm indicating a break-in but a warning to let her know the front door had been opened.

“So are you getting used to the security system?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m making pie,” she said as she headed back to the kitchen.

“Why is Trina home? Is she sick?”

Betsy picked up the rolling pin and continued to roll out the pie dough as she talked.

“As I understand it, she and Lee had a horrible fight and broke up. I don’t know what prompted it. I don’t know what to say to her other than I’m so sorry. She has to cry herself out. It’s sad. That’s all.”

Trey sighed. He knew all too well how it felt to be without the person you loved. Thank God he and Dallas were back together.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I like Lee. I wonder what happened.”

“It doesn’t really matter what happened when you’re grieving the loss,” she said. Then she deftly transferred the piecrust to the fruit-filled pie plate beside her and began crimping the edges of the crusts to keep the juices from bubbling over into the oven.

“I guess you’re right about that,” Trey said, gauging the expression on her face against why he’d come. “Are you nearly finished?” he asked.

She nodded. “After your last phone call, I suppose you’re here on official business.”

“Yes.”

She slid the pie into the oven, washed her hands and then sat down at the table. “Okay, I’m ready for questioning.”

Trey sighed. “Mom, it’s—”

She slapped the flat of her hand on the table.

“I know what it is. Just get it over with,” she snapped, shoving the gray curls away from her face.

He tried not to take her anger personally and turned on the recorder as he sat, identifying himself for the recording, stating the date and time and the name of the person being interviewed. Then he pulled out a notebook with questions he’d prepared earlier.

“What link do you have to Dick Phillips and Paul Jackson?”

Her right eye twitched, but her voice was calm when she answered, “We went to high school together.

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