Page 92 of Trace of Doubt
“It’s just you and me now.” The heartfelt intimacy moved me to blink back the tears.
“Mom told you she’s moving to Phoenix?”
“She’s not coming back.” Dad held Aria at arm’s length. “She felt it was better not to have an emotional goodbye with either of us.”
“Granddad, that’s cruel. What about her clothes and stuff?”
Aria had told the truth about Marissa. How horrible.
“She’ll send for her things. I’ll tell you more in the car.” Dadglanced up at me as though he’d forgotten Denton and I were in the room. “We need to get on the road.”
“Clay,” Denton said, “you’re facing a long drive. Why don’t you and Aria stay here tonight and get a fresh start in the morning?”
“Can’t take advantage of you, especially with the circumstances. You looked after Aria, and you’re not in good shape.”
“Dad, I’ll go to my cabin if—”
“No way.” Denton shook his head. “Randy’s parked at his drinking hole, talking crazy.”
Dad focused on Denton, and I understood how looking at me created bitter memories. “The man who’s made threats and caused so much trouble?”
“We think this is a separate issue. He was a local police officer who got fired for a variety of reasons. He blames Shelby and me, and he’s already spent a little jail time for acting stupid. The FBI and local law enforcement haven’t discounted a connection, but he won’t show up here and risk crossing a federal officer. Why not stay at my cabin for supper and rest up before the drive back?”
Exhaustion etched deeper on Dad’s face. Thank goodness Aria didn’t utter a sound. “Not sure what is best.”
“Isn’t the bakery closed on Sundays?”
Dad nodded. “We’d be a big imposition.”
“Not really. Shelby gave me her mother’s recipe for chicken and dumplings. I’ve got the fixings for a salad, and we have a pecan pie from the bakery.”
Dad rubbed his face. The stress of losing Mom, Aria’s escape, and Marissa’s announcement clearly bombarded his head and his heart. And then there was me, his younger daughter, newly released from prison. If only I could put my arms around him.
“Supper is tempting me.” Dad scratched the back of his neck... like always when he was indecisive.
His response staggered my emotions. When he’d arrived, I assumed he’d stand on the porch, ask for Aria, and the two would be gone in a matter of thirty seconds.
“Aria and Shelby can share my bed,” Denton said. “You can have the guest bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Dad raised his brows. “I’ll help with the food and take the couch. You need to stretch out so your leg will heal.”
“My mamaw would slap me sideways for being inhospitable. In fact, so would my mother.”
“That’s my condition, and I cook breakfast.”
“My job,” I said.
A heavy, pin-drop pause sent me scrambling for an escape.
“You and I can cook breakfast together.” His raspy voice and watery eyes told me how difficult it was to make his offer of reconciliation.
I swallowed my gratitude. “I accept.”
Within an hour, the four of us crowded around Denton’s table. Strange and yet wonderful to be surrounded by Dad, Aria, and Denton, enjoying way too much of the chicken and dumplings from my childhood. Dad struggled with his words and mannerisms. We all did, but we’d taken a giant step forward. Conversations, thanks to Denton, were easy topics.
Midway through our second helping, my phone on the kitchen counter summoned me. Not the burner. I captured Denton’s attention. It rang a second time. He left the table and gazed at the caller’s number.
“Best answer it.” He handed me the phone.
