“I sure do. I suggested it, actually.”
I cocked my head at her. “Why?”
“Well, you’ve heard about what’s happening.”
“Sure. The murders.”
“Sheriff Sloan thinks Easton can help. And I want to offer as much support to him as possible. I figure he can get more work done here than he can in that little office of his.”
“Maybe,” I muttered. “Or maybe he’s better off alone there.”
Susan laughed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“You seem a little annoyed.”
I sighed, sitting down across from her. “Your son is a real asshole, that’s all.”
My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe I had just said that, but Susan only laughed harder.
“He is a stubborn boy, that’s for sure. What happened?”
“He closed the office and is finished working with me.”
“Really?” She seemed mildly surprised. “He had said you’ve been a huge asset to him.”
I nodded. “I thought so. We were going over the case together one second, and the next he’s telling me we’re done working together and to just forget it.”
Susan made a small sound and nodded her head thoughtfully. “I can’t say that I’m surprised.”
“You can’t? I sure was.”
“You know,” she said slowly, “when Easton was a little boy, he had this friend named Michael. Mike came from a bad home—parents were drunks, he moved around a lot. For whatever reason, Easton figured all this out.”
“How old was he?”
“Nine or ten.”
“That’s really young to see something like that.”
“I know. He’s always had an incredible read on people, even well beyond his years when he was young.”
“So what did he do?”
“Well,” she said, continuing, “one day he came home and begged me to let Michael sleep over. I said okay, sure. The next night Easton came to me and begged me to let Michael stay over again. I said okay one more time since it wasn’t unusual for kids to stay over twice in a row.”
“I can see where this is going,” I said softly.
Susan smiled. “I knew something was up when he asked the third time. I sat him down and said, ‘Easton, why are you trying to get Michael to stay over so much?’ I’ll never forget what he said.”
I sipped my coffee. “What?”
“He said, ‘Because, Mom, Mike’s house is awful and he doesn’t want to live there anymore. Maybe he won’t say so, but he’s happier here. I thought maybe he could live with us.’”
“Wow.” I was genuinely surprised.
She nodded, smiling fondly at the memory. “I asked him, ‘Where is Mike going to stay?’ He said, ‘My room.’ I asked, ‘What will he eat?’ He said, ‘My food.’ I was completely astounded.”
“So what happened?”
“Mike went home that night, and his mom ended up beating him severely for not telling her where he was. After that, his mom got arrested and his dad got sober.”
I let that story sink in for a second. It did seem like Easton, to some degree. He had been very willing to help Mrs. Suarez, and although he put on a show of being a jaded private eye most of the time, I did get glimpses of someone more generous underneath that exterior.
“Wow,” I said softly. “That must have been hard for a kid to take.”
“It really was. I remember him finally understanding what had happened to Mike, and although he never said it out loud, I could tell that he blamed himself.”
“That wasn’t his fault. He even tried, as best a little kid could at least.”
She smiled sadly. “I know. But you have to understand something about Easton.” She sipped her coffee and looked out across the kitchen. “He wants to help save everyone, and every failure is personal. At a certain point, he learned that it was easier to make very few connections than it was to constantly fail to fix absolutely everything.”
“But how could he make everyone perfect?”
She looked back at me, smiling. “He can’t. He’s stubborn as hell, though. That all has a lot to do with why he and I don’t get along.”
“Why is that?”
She shook her head. “A long, stupid story. We’re both as stubborn as the other one in the end.”
“I understand,” I said, although I wished she would go on.
“Anyway,” she said, sipping her coffee again and stretching, “I think that’s enough about him.”
I wanted to press her. What did that whole story have to do with me and him? Did she think that he was trying to protect me by not letting me get involved with his investigation? I wanted to know so much more, to get her perspective on him when he was a little kid, but I knew more questions would seem suspicious.