“I miss my mother,” she said softly. “She was a hardworking woman who never gave up. She knew Jayne wasn’t right in the head, but she didn’t believe in coddling her . . . or giving her special treatment when she was younger. She set expectations and we were to meet them. If we didn’t, there were consequences.”

“Sounds like my kind of woman.”

“She would have liked you,” Ava said. “She didn’t take crap from anyone . . . including Jayne.”

“Smart.”

“I rarely saw a soft side of her.” A small pain started at the site of the scar. “Her chin was always up. Looking back, I think she had to fight for everything. Her job, her independence, us.”

“She raised you well.”

Ava looked out the window. The passing group was long gone. Her emotions had been triggered as if by a ball in a pinball machine. It bounced off raw grief, anger, tenderness, and guilt. This was why she didn’t like talking about her family: it was exhausting.

“Someday we’ll look for your father.”

The pinball vanished as all her emotions dried up. Her father was an empty dry well in her brain. A place she avoided. She didn’t know how to feel toward a man she’d never met, so she didn’t dwell on it. There was no point. How could she be angry at or disappointed in someone she knew nothing about?

Does he know Jayne and I exist?

The question was like a tiny rock dropped into the well. It hit the dusty dirt at the bottom and then . . . nothing.

“We’ll see,” she answered noncommittally. She didn’t know if she wanted to explore that pit of nothingness. Some things were best left alone. They spent a few minutes eating in comforting silence. There was no need to fill the air with useless conversation. She and Mason were both fans of avoiding empty conversations; they didn’t waste effort or breath on small talk.

His phone buzzed, and he reluctantly looked at it. Usually they had a no-phones rule during meals, but with the urgency of this case, it was suspended. “Text from Ray. Address of the psychiatrist. We’re to meet with him in an hour.” He took a large bite of burger. “Plenty of time to eat and get over there.” He set the phone back on the table, facedown. “Let’s pretend for a few more minutes that no one died yesterday, and you had an uneventful morning at yoga.”

“Agreed.” She smiled at him and welcomed the peace that enveloped her. It’d been that way from the first moment they met. When they were together, the air around them settled into a relaxing harmony. It was rare and precious, and something she wanted for the rest of her life.

13

Dr. Colum Beck’s office was in a small office building that’d seen better days. From the odd architecture, Mason guessed it’d been built in the late seventies. It was all angles and round windows. He and Ray bypassed the elevator and took the wide staircase three stories to the top floor. According to the directory in the small lobby, it housed several doctors’ offices, an architect’s, an accountant’s, and a remodeling agency. The building smelled like old dust. Poor insulation or design allowed the roar of the traffic on the highway out front to echo through the building. Dr. Beck’s name was on a plastic placard on the wall next to a glass door that Ray pulled open. Mason noticed he specialized in “psychiatry for children and young adults.”

The waiting room was empty. A tiny sign next to the inside door asked them to “press button and have a seat.” Ray pressed. Neither of them sat.

There was no television or music piped into the room and it felt ominously closed in to Mason. He wasn’t claustrophobic, but the silence and still air made the hairs on the back of his neck itch.

Ray picked up a magazine. This waiting room didn’t offer the usual magazines of gossip, sports, and home decor. Instead they were a mishmash of unfamiliar journals that appeared to be targeted to children and teens. The inner door opened and Dr. Beck stepped into the waiting room. He introduced himself and shook hands. He looked like an athlete, not a psychiatrist, and reminded Mason of the group of younger guys at his gym who played basketball every day. He was tall and lean with biceps that bulged out from under his short-sleeved shirt. Mason already knew he was thirty-six and had been practicing for eight years. Mason liked him immediately and bet that the doctor’s young patients did, too.

“Please take a seat in here.” Dr. Beck gestured them into his office and Mason felt as if he’d stepped out of a closet into a sunny day. The office was bright and open and had huge windows. The view was of the highway, but now Mason couldn’t hear the cars.

“Nice office,” said Ray. He sounded as stunned as Mason felt.

Dr. Beck grinned. “I know that waiting room is a bit glum. I felt this space made up for it when I was looking for a place to set up shop.”

“You heard about Justin Yoder.” Mason didn’t want to waste any time.

The doctor’s face sobered instantly. “I did. I was crushed. It’s not the first time I’ve had a patient pass, but it’s certainly the most violent.”

“Justin’s parents gave you permission to speak with us?” Ray confirmed.

“Yes, I don’t see any issues. I’ll try to tell you whatever you need.”

“Did this incident surprise you?” Mason asked.

“Absolutely. I’d never have guessed Justin would have shot those people and then himself. But there’s a lot of things about the workings of the human mind that we don’t understand.”