“They mention anything else?” Mark asked.
“Authorities believe that it was a home invasion, possibly a burglary gone wrong.” Wilson’s inflections were slightly off, and I realized after a moment that he was mimicking the newscaster exactly. He’d memorized what they’d said.
“Alright. Meet us in the kitchen in five,” Mark ordered.
“If I’m finished,” Wilson replied.
I followed Mark out of the room, my feet practically dragging. I was so fucking worn out. I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d just had a baby or everything else that had happened, but I seriously just wanted to go back to the bedroom and lay down. The baby tilted her head back, completely awkward and uncoordinated, and I swallowed hard as I kissed her forehead.
I was doing a pretty fantastic job not thinking of anything beyond keeping her safe, but eventually, I knew that I was going to have to deal with the fact that her mother was dead. My best friend, who’d wanted her so badly, would never get to watch her grow up. She’d never get to dress her in all the frilly outfits she’d bought, or go for mother-daughter pedicures, or help her pick out her outfit for the first day of school, or all the other things Liv had told me she was excited for.
“Did you eat?” my mom asked as we walked into the kitchen.
“Yeah.” I let her pull the baby out of my arms.
I hoped that at some point I’d take to motherhood as well as my mom had. I don’t know if it had been the fact that she’d helped out with my cousin Will before any of us kids were born, or if she was just a natural, but she’d always seemed at ease with us. Like she knew exactly what to do, no matter the situation we found ourselves in.
“Round table,” Mark announced to the room. “We’ve got shit to go over. Where’s Cam?”
“He went outside to call Trix,” my mom replied, her cheek resting on the top of the baby’s head while she swayed from side to side. “He’ll be back in a minute.”
“You name that baby yet?” Eli asked as he sat down at the kitchen table.
“I still say you name her Cecilia,” Lu said as she hopped up on the island.
“Ooh, after you,” my mom pointed out, raising her eyebrows.
“That’s the idea,” I replied, my mouth twitching. “I’m not naming her that.”
“Why?” she said. “It’s a beautiful name. You can carry on the tradition.”
“Tradition?” Lu asked.
“Cecilia was named after me,” my mom said proudly.
“Not exactly,” I argued.
“I thought your name was Farrah?” Eli asked. “Shit, have I been callin’ you the wrong name?”
My dad chuckled.
“No, Farrah is my name,” my mom clarified. “But my dad and step-mom actually named me Cecilia. I was raised by my mom, and she named me Farrah.” She shrugged.
“See?” Lu said just as Cam came through the door.
“Everything all right?” my dad asked.
“Yep,” Cam replied. He made his way over and slung an arm over my shoulder.
“Wilson,” Mark called over his shoulder. “Get your ass in here.”
We waited.
“You know he ain’t comin’ in here until he’s damn well ready,” Forrest said with a grin, leaning his chair back on two legs. “You wanna get started, I’ll fill him in later.”
“He’s a serious pain in the ass,” Mark muttered.
“But he gets the job done,” Forrest replied.
“We need to lay out everythin’ we know and everythin’ we don’t know,” Mark said. He looked at me and paused. “You need to sit down before you fall down.”
“What?” I looked at him in confusion.
“You okay?” my mom asked. “He’s right. You look like you’re going to tip over.”
“I’m fine,” I replied.
Mark didn’t continue speaking, he just stood there staring patiently at me.
With a huff, I pulled away from my brother and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs.
“So,” Mark continued, “we know that the couple in the house were named Cane and Lavinia Warren—”
“Hold up,” my dad said, raising his hand in a stop signal. “Cane Warren?”
“That name mean somethin’ to you?” Mark asked.
My dad met my brother’s eyes across the room and my stomach sank.
“You could say that,” Dad said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “He’s the head of the Free America Militia. Shit, I’d forgotten those fuckers even existed.” I recognized the look in his eyes. Something was clicking into place, like he’d just put the final piece in a puzzle.
“You gonna fill the rest of the class in?” Mark asked.
My dad didn’t answer.
“Right,” Mark spat, clearly frustrated. “Okay, is there anything else you can tell me?”
“They’re a bunch of skinhead white supremacists,” my dad replied darkly. He looked at me. “I’m guessin’ he had no idea that you were part Mexican.”
“It never came up,” I said softly, the realization making my stomach churn.
What the fuck? What. The. Fuck? Cane was a white supremacist? I’d willingly eaten at his table and hung out with him and carried his baby. My mouth started to water as bile burned the back of my throat. Had Liv known? Had she married the guy knowing that he believed in some master race bullshit? The world spun.