A frown of concern etched her brow. “She lives here on the ranch, but not in this house. Why? What is it?”
“Could you call her and have her come meet us here?”
“You’re scaring me, Detective … Was it LoSasso?”
“Yes, ma’am. We do have bad news.”
Alarm consumed Lillian’s face. “Is this about my son Tyler? He’s not hurt, is he?”
“No, ma’am. Tyler is fine as far as we know.” Stella threw a troubled look at Mattie. “This is rather unorthodox. Typically I’d speak with your daughter first, but I don’t mean to make things worse for you. This is about your son-in-law.”
“Nate? Has he been hurt? A car wreck?”
“I’m sorry, but he’s been found dead.”
Lillian’s eyes darted to Mattie and then back to Stella. “Dead? That can’t be.”
Stella held the woman’s gaze. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Mattie spoke up. “My sympathies, Mrs. Redman. Would it be easier on Kasey if we spoke to her here at your house, or would it be better to go over to hers?”
Shock still registering on her features, Lillian gave Mattie a sharp look. “It’s not going to be easier on her either way.”
Mattie nodded, feeling chastened. “You’re right. But we’d like to do what’s best for Kasey.”
Lillian pressed trembling fingers against her cheek. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t lash out at you. Should I wait until morning to tell her?”
“It’s best for us to notify her as soon as possible,” Stella said.
A crash in the next room startled Mattie. She whirled to face the doorway, placing her hand on her Glock.
“No, no, no, no, no!” A man’s voice, deep and rough, followed by a few expletives, came from the other room.
Lillian was already hurrying through the doorway. “Oh, Doyle!”
Mattie followed at her heels. A tall man dressed in pajamas stood behind a small metal folding table that lay on the floor, dirty dishes spread out on the carpet in front of it. With his left arm, he was reaching for a cane that leaned against a chair at his back.
Lillian rushed forward to retrieve his cane for him. “You need to call me to help you get up from your chair, dear heart.”
Mattie knelt to gather the dishes while glancing up to observe the man whom she assumed to be Doyle Redman. He took the cane with his left hand, his right arm hanging by his side, the hand slightly curled. She recalled Cole saying that Mr. Redman had lost the use of his speech and his arm.
Lillian took the dishes from Mattie, thanking her and moving off with them toward the kitchen. “I’ll put these in the sink and come right back.”
Mattie picked up the metal tray and sat it on its feet, while Doyle Redman stared at her with gray-blue eyes that were startling in their fierceness. He was a large man, big-boned but gaunt, perhaps from his illness. She held his gaze for a beat until Lillian reentered the room and he turned his eyes toward his wife.
“This is my husband, Doyle. Doyle, this is Mattie Cobb and Detective LoSasso.” Lillian’s eyes were reddened, her features tense and strained, holding it together as she completed what probably felt like a bizarre social ritual, given the circumstances of having just learned of her son-in-law’s death. “Doyle had a stroke that left him with expressive aphasia. He can’t say what he wants to, but he understands everything. You can speak to him like you would anyone.”
Mattie met Doyle’s gaze again. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Redman.”
He rested his cane against his leg to free up his hand and then poked his forefinger at her. “You …” He leaned back and beat the air with his finger as if thinking. Then he twiddled two fingers in a walking gesture, moving them through the air.
She thought she knew what he meant. “I run?”
He nodded, the left side of his mouth tipping upward in a half smile.
“Yes sir, I used to run track when I was in high school.”
He waved his forefinger close to his temple, as if to say he remembered.
“That’s why you look familiar,” Lillian said. “We used to watch you.”
“I remember Kasey from school, but I don’t remember your son.”
“Tyler. He’s two years younger than Kasey.” Lillian’s eyes filled, and she looked down at the floor. “I suppose I should call her now.”
“Yes, please do that, Mrs. Redman.” Though Stella’s features remained bland, Mattie could tell from her abrupt movement that the detective was getting antsy to move on to the reason they were here.
“Doyle, please sit back down, sweetheart.” Lillian pressed him into the recliner behind him. “I’ll just step into the kitchen to use the phone and be right back.”
Stella followed Lillian into the kitchen, leaving Mattie alone with Doyle. She stood awkwardly in front of him for a few seconds while he examined her with those gray-blue eyes that were almost iridescent in their intensity.
She cleared her throat, breaking eye contact to look around the room until her gaze lit on an armchair upholstered in navy velour fabric. “Is it all right if I sit?”
He waved his hand in the chair’s direction.
Once seated, Mattie didn’t know what to say. What conversation could she strike up with a man, speechless from the effects of a stroke, whose son-in-law had just been shot and killed? Her mind drew a blank.
She arranged her features into her neutral cop’s face as she settled in to wait, but movement on the far side of the room caught her eye. A young woman paused at the entry from a hallway. When she spotted Mattie, she looked startled, her sleepy gray-blue eyes—so much like Doyle’s—opening wide. Tall and slender, she was dressed in a blue cotton tee and silk boxer shorts that looked like pajamas, her short blond hair tousled as if she’d risen from bed.
“What happened, Dad?” she said. “I heard a crash.”
Doyle waved his hand in dismissal and then beckoned for her to come, patting the arm of his chair in an invitation to sit.
Mattie gestured toward the tray. “The tray fell over. That’s what you heard.”
The young woman—Mattie would guess in her late teens or early twenties—approached her father and stood by his chair, her brow furrowed with concern as she looked at Mattie. “What’s up?”
Mattie introduced herself. “And you are?”
“I’m Eve. Why are you here in the middle of the night?”
Lillian and Stella reentered the room. “Oh, Eve, you’re awake,” Lillian said before turning to Stella. “Eve is our youngest. She’s home from college for the summer.”
Eve directed her concern toward her mother. “What’s going on, Mom?”
Lillian looked like she might be yielding to the stress. A tear slipped down her cheek as she took a seat on the sofa. “They’ve brought bad news, dear. Here, come sit.”
Looking apprehensive, Eve settled onto the arm of her father’s chair. “What news?”
“It’s Nate, dear. He’s …” Looking confused, Lillian turned toward Stella. “I don’t know the details, but the detective said he’s been found dead.”
With her duty to observe family members in mind as they were each notified, Mattie thought the surprise that registered on both Doyle and Eve’s faces appeared genuine. Eve lifted her hand to her throat. “How?”
“Let’s wait until Kasey gets here,” Stella said. “Then I can tell you all at once.”
Sorrowful, Lillian looked at Mattie. “Kasey was here helping me until about an hour before you arrived. She said she’d just fallen asleep, but it will take her only a few minutes to get here.”
“How long had Kasey been with you this evening?” Stella asked.
“She helps me most afternoons. She usually comes around five to help with dinner and stays as long as I need her. Tonight Doyle has been particularly restless, so she didn’t get away until late.”