“Ms. Robards, I’m Travis Devine with Homeland Security.”
“Yes, I know, Mr. Devine,” she said in a low voice. “Please sit.”
She finally looked at him — resignedly, Devine concluded.
“Would you like something hot to drink? It’s quite chilly today.”
“No thank you, I’m fine.” He settled into a wingchair opposite her. “And I’m very sorry for your loss.”
She twitched at his words, and closed her eyes for a moment. “We all thought Jenny was indomitable, a survivor. She had survived... much, until this ugly, ugly business.”
“She had a stellar career, and a brilliant future in serving her country.”
“That goddamned job cost my daughter her life,” she barked. Then she quickly let the regal mask slide back down over her features. “I’m sorry,” she said in a hushed voice.
“No reason to be.” He glanced around. “Is your husband here?”
“Vernon is in Thailand, at least I think so. Business,” she added with a touch of bitterness. “Apparently, for some people business and making money trumps all, even the murder of one’s stepdaughter.” She glanced at her lap and let her fingers intertwine as though she suddenly felt the need to hold on to herself. “It’s funny, Mr. Devine.”
“What is?”
“When I married Curt, he was already a war hero. This big strong marine that no enemy could defeat. And he was gone all the time, too. Not to make money, but to serve his country, like Jenny did. He survived that. And then he got into politics. Worked his way up and eventually ran for the Senate and won. And he was gone all the time, again, not for the money but to serve. And here’s the funny thing.” She paused and seemed to collect herself, running her fingers delicately along her expensive pearls. “The funny thing is, for the people left behind, the motivation doesn’t matter. The result is the same: one is alone.”
“I can see that.”
She looked around at the tastefully decorated room in the luxurious mansion in the pricey, sought-after neighborhood with beautiful views. “And in case you’re wondering, as so many have, no, the grass is not always greener.”
“I understand that Jenny was not in full agreement with the divorce?” he said quietly.
“She hated me for it, plain and simple.” Robards dropped her hand to her lap. “She and apparently everyone else thought I left Curt because of his illness. The fact was we had agreed to divorce a year before. But these things take time and he had an election coming up, so we made the mutual decision to wait. He won the race and we went our separate ways. Then he was diagnosed shortly thereafter and I became the thoughtless ex-wife.”
“I suppose you could have halted the divorce proceedings,” noted Devine.
“I’d already met Vernon and was engaged to him. We were waiting for the final decree to announce our impending wedding. And the truth was I had given Curt four decades of my life and three children. He had his twin careers. And me? I hadn’t even started to live my life yet. So I decided to move forward and do just that before it was too late. Curt was going to receive the best care regardless.” She glanced up. “I suppose you think me heartless, too?”
“While it may be tempting for many, judging others has never been a fascination of mine.”
She nodded. “Now, how can I help you?”
“When was the last time you saw or spoke to your daughter?”
“I saw her at an event at the Senate to honor Curt’s legacy about six months ago.”
“Was that also the last time you spoke to her?”
Her gaze fell to her lap. “No. She actually called me recently. She said she was heading to Putnam. She grew up there, along with our other two children. An ancestor of Curt’s, Hiram Silkwell, built the family home there. It’s quite Gothic, and I think extraordinarily ugly. Curt kept paying the taxes on it until he became ill. He couldn’t part with it, apparently. He was always a very nostalgic person, very much tied to the past in certain respects.”
“Did she say why she was going there?”
“She said she had some unfinished business.”
“What sort of business?” asked Devine sharply.
“She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”
Devine looked skeptically at her.
She caught this look and explained, “Our relationship had changed, Agent Devine. She was a grown woman who no longer needed or wanted my advice or counseling.”
“But she called you, even though you two were estranged. Must have been a reason.”
“If there was it eluded me.”
“Okay, any guess as to what she was referring to about the ‘unfinished business’?”
“None.”
“And your other children?”
“Dak and Alex. They still live in the family home.”
“Any idea why they want to live in an ugly, old Gothic house?”
“They apparently like it there. I lived there with the kids while Curt was in Congress. Neither one of us wanted the children to be here, in the limelight.”
“What do they do?”
“Alex is the youngest, and an artist. And an incredibly talented one who could make a fine living if she would ever get an agent. I’ve been told by old friends up there that she also teaches art in the public school on a part-time basis.” She paused and smiled, but it was accompanied by a sad, bittersweet expression.
She said, “Jenny was the golden child. Brilliant, enormously driven, lovely, she had it all. But Alex was no slouch, either. She was more beautiful than Jenny, and smart, too. Because of her late birthday she was always the youngest in her class. Then, because of her ability, she skipped an entire grade in elementary school. Not even Jenny managed to do that,” she added.
“And your son?”
“Dak has a tattoo parlor and some other business interests up there. He’s very entrepreneurial. I think he wants to make a zillion dollars to show he doesn’t need any of us. He was in the Army but got discharged.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Dak can tell you, if he wants.”
“Could Jenny have been going to see them?”
“It’s possible. I’ve tried to call both of them but they haven’t gotten back to me.”
“Were your kids close with one another?”
“They used to be. But life changes people, you know?”
“Yes, ma’am. But I guess Dak and Alex get along, if they live together.”
“It’s a big house,” she said simply. “Big enough to feel like one is living alone.”
“Where and when will the funeral take place?”
“There won’t be one. In her will Jenny stipulated that she wanted to be cremated and her ashes scattered over the ocean. No ceremony, no fuss.”
“I guess she was the sort to plan ahead?”
“I just wish she had managed to stay alive until long after I was dead and buried!”
“Well, she had no choice in the matter,” he pointed out.
Sniffling, Clare said, “Curt doesn’t even know she’s gone.”
Devine noted, “Maybe that’s for the best. When was the last time you saw Alex or Dak?”
“It’s been several years, actually. I suppose that qualifies as ‘estranged,’” she added, closing her eyes, her features laden with misery.
“Ever since your divorce?”
“I suppose the two are intertwined,” she said dully, opening her eyes and gazing off.
He rose. “Well, thank you for seeing me. If you think of anything else, please contact me.” He handed her his card, on which the fresh ink seemed to glow.
She reached across, took the card, and then gripped his hand with surprising strength. “Please find out who took her away from me, Mr. Devine. Please.”
He looked down at her. “I’ll do my best, ma’am. I can promise you that.”