Skin Dancer by Carolyn Haines Page A

ran and the killer shot him in the head.” She shook her head. “Could be Hank did something stupid and pissed the killer off.”
    â€œCould be you need something to eat,” Jake said, rubbing the back of her neck. “You look done in. Want to grab a burger at Lulu’s?” 
    â€œSure.” She slipped the report into her desk drawer and locked it.
    â€œA little paranoid, aren’t you?”
    She didn’t look at him as she got her purse. “Force of habit. That way nothing goes missing and there’s no time lost hunting for things that someone picked up and forgot to return.”
    The rain had begun to slack off when they opened the door of the courthouse. Rachel hunched into her coat. Though it was summer, the storm had brought with it cooler temperatures. “Jake, do you think it’s possible someone from Boston followed this guy here and decided to take justice into his own hands?”
    Jake didn’t immediately answer, and she didn’t press as they walked to his Land Rover. He opened the door and she slid in.
    â€œIt’s possible.” He started the vehicle and pulled out onto Main Street. “But why kill someone who might pay you half a million?”
    â€œMaybe to spare your daughter having to testify in a courtroom. They can still sue the estate.”
    Jake glanced at her. “Some fathers would do that.”
    â€œYeah, some would.” She fixed her gaze out the passenger window. “And some wouldn’t. Like mine.” She wanted to take the last two words back as soon as she spoke them. This was one of the reasons she found it difficult to be around Jake. He knew too much of her history. And sometimes, when she was tired and her guard was down, she slipped too close to being the teenager who’d viewed her own life as worthless.
    â€œYou know it wasn’t you that your father abandoned, Rachel. Your mom made it impossible for anyone to stay around.”
    â€œExcept for me.” Jesus, why not just send out invitations to the pity party? “Look, I don’t want to talk about this.” She sat up taller, determined to shed the memories as she lost the slumping posture she’d assumed as soon as she thought about the past.
    â€œI’ve never told you about the day your dad left, have I?”
    Rachel felt the skin on her face tighten. “You saw him leave?” It was one of Jake’s habits, to reveal things by layer and degree. Sometimes she wondered if he made things up based on the situation.
    â€œWasn’t much to see. I’d ridden my bike to the Little League game and stopped to say hi to your mom. Your dad threw a pillowcase full of clothes into the front seat of his truck and reversed out of the driveway. I figured he and your mom had had another fight and that he’d be back in a day or so. They fought pretty regular toward the end, and it was nothing to see him pack his things and light out for a bit.”
    There was nothing Rachel could add. They were talking about a ghost, a man she’d never met. Her only image of him came from an old photograph she’d found in her mother’s things.
    The windshield wipers swished back and forth as they drove slowly down Main Street. On the edge of town they passed Prima Donna’s, a modern glass and steel structure that looked out of place among buildings that bore the distinctive stamp of the old West. The studio/dojang was closed. The little tappers and ballerinas were cute, but Rachel liked to work out in the wee hours of the morning when sleep wouldn’t come.
    â€œI’ve grown to love this town,” Jake said, his thoughts paralleling hers.
    â€œI know. It’s a special place. Do you think Paradise will change it a lot?”
    He sighed. “Change is inevitable.”
    She grasped what he meant instantly. Bisonville and Criss County would change greatly. She took in the empty streets that had seen a bloody