“Mothers generally do,” my mom agrees. I ignore the possible jab.
Darlene places the frame on the coffee table. “She was convinced Donald looked for victims combing the back roads.”
The smile on my mother’s face thinned to a hard line. “I suppose it’s possible,” she says. “That would make a nice photo for the book, if you would allow me to make a copy.”
“Sure,” Darlene tells her.
I let them finish up, only listening to half of the conversation. I have no idea how my mother and I have such different levels of tolerance for gore. She needs every detail—I’d rather hear nothing at all. I’m further surprised when we leave and the two women hug for a long moment, like long-lost friends and not strangers.
I excuse myself and head out the front door to stand on the hot porch. A group of kids play soccer in the street with a partially deflated ball. They don’t seem to care. When the door opens behind me I expect to see my mother, but it’s Nick and he has a grim expression on his face.
“That’s a lot of information,” he says, leaning against the porch rail. “You do this all the time?”
“Never.” He raises his eyebrows. “This is the first time I’ve done any research with her. I’m not sure how she does it.”
“Me neither.” He picks up his camera and takes a few shots of the house and street. “I feel like there’s something between us—an elephant or something.”
“You mean the pier?”
“You were upset.”
“I was, but it doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
His large, tanned hands clench the rail. “I’m a good listener.”
“Thanks, but…I was just being dramatic.” He doesn’t look convinced. “Fine. I had a break up. A bad one.”
“Ah, okay.” His jaw tightens. “That’s why I don’t date.”
I’d heard this about the others, of course. Whit, Justin, and Pete. “No?”
“I’m not good with heartache. Not after my mom died.”
“Oh,” I say, not knowing what else to say, other than, “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. It was a long time ago. I was in elementary school but after that I just…” He gives me a tight grin. “It’s easier not making attachments.”
I consider my next comment but go for it anyway. “I heard a rumor. About you and your friends.”
His lips quirk up. “Did you now?”
“That none of you date much.”
“Anita?” I shook my head and that brought a spark of curiosity in his eye. “Well whoever told you that was right. The girls around here…things get complicated. We all have goals. Places to see outside of Ocean Beach.”
“And the girls here?”
“A lot of them want to settle and pop out babies.”
“Yeah, no thanks,” I say. “I mean, if that’s what they want, but for me? No.”
“So, we made a pact in the 9th grade.”
The Pact.
“What kind of pact?”
“No serious relationships.” He looks at the kids in the street. “And always wear a condom.”