ran and the killer shot him in the head.â She shook her head. âCould be Hank did something stupid and pissed the killer off.â
âCould be you need something to eat,â Jake said, rubbing the back of her neck. âYou look done in. Want to grab a burger at Luluâs?âÂ
âSure.â She slipped the report into her desk drawer and locked it.
âA little paranoid, arenât you?â
She didnât look at him as she got her purse. âForce of habit. That way nothing goes missing and thereâs no time lost hunting for things that someone picked up and forgot to return.â
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. âJake, do you think itâs possible someone from Boston followed this guy here and decided to take justice into his own hands?â
Jake didnât immediately answer, and she didnât press as they walked to his Land Rover. He opened the door and she slid in.
âItâs possible.â He started the vehicle and pulled out onto Main Street. âBut why kill someone who might pay you half a million?â
âMaybe to spare your daughter having to testify in a courtroom. They can still sue the estate.â
Jake glanced at her. âSome fathers would do that.â
âYeah, some would.â She fixed her gaze out the passenger window. âAnd some wouldnât. Like mine.â 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 whoâd viewed her own life as worthless.
âYou know it wasnât you that your father abandoned, Rachel. Your mom made it impossible for anyone to stay around.â
âExcept for me.â Jesus, why not just send out invitations to the pity party? âLook, I donât want to talk about this.â She sat up taller, determined to shed the memories as she lost the slumping posture sheâd assumed as soon as she thought about the past.
âIâve never told you about the day your dad left, have I?â
Rachel felt the skin on her face tighten. âYou saw him leave?â It was one of Jakeâs habits, to reveal things by layer and degree. Sometimes she wondered if he made things up based on the situation.
âWasnât much to see. Iâd 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 heâd 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.â
There was nothing Rachel could add. They were talking about a ghost, a man sheâd never met. Her only image of him came from an old photograph sheâd found in her motherâs things.
The windshield wipers swished back and forth as they drove slowly down Main Street. On the edge of town they passed Prima Donnaâs, 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 wouldnât come.
âIâve grown to love this town,â Jake said, his thoughts paralleling hers.
âI know. Itâs a special place. Do you think Paradise will change it a lot?â
He sighed. âChange is inevitable.â
She grasped what he meant instantly. Bisonville and Criss County would change greatly. She took in the empty streets that had seen a bloody