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Susan shifted her stance, gripping the leather strap of her purse so tightly that her knuckles whitened. “There’s no easy way to say it but to just say it.”
Jenna frowned. “What’re you talking about?”
“I knew your father.”
Jenna sat straighter. “Excuse me?”
“He and I knew each other. I met him while I was covering the courthouse.”
“Okay.”
She dropped her voice and adjusted a gold watch on her wrist. “I cared for him.”
Jenna stepped back from the bed. Memories of her mother standing in the window, crying, flashed. “You had an affair with him?”
A frown stained the edges of an otherwise smooth forehead. “You make it sound cheap.”
“No. But let’s call it what it was.”
“I loved your father. And I know he loved me. I met you once when you were about four.”
“Really?” She should have been shocked or angered by this revelation, but the curiosity for her past overwhelmed all other emotions. “Where?”
“You were at the high school football game. Your older sister was cheering and your father took you to the game.”
“My mother wasn’t there.”
“I never saw her.” She shifted and managed a smile. “You were a cute little thing. Looked like a mini version of your sister.”
“My aunt said that once.”
“You’ve not seen pictures?”
“I just have one. It was taken of the four of us. My aunt said they were all destroyed.”
Susan reached in her designer leather purse and pulled out a picture. “I’ve been thinking about giving this to you since I first saw you.”
“You didn’t dig into my past. You recognized me.”
“I saw your sister and your father in you. And I knew your name was Jennifer, of course. Jenna, Jennifer, not a huge leap.”
Jenna struggled to assimilate what she was hearing. “Why didn’t you say anything to me before the interview? Why tell the world who I was?”
“I’m desperate for a story so I can keep my job. I didn’t stop to think until later. I should have talked to you first.”
“Why not expose your own connection?”
“I’m a coward.”
Jenna studied her a beat. Her father’s affair explained why her own mother had been crying. Maybe even why Sara had been fighting with her father.
Susan held out the picture. “Take it. It’s the least I can give you.”
She accepted the picture and stared down at the face of a man, her father, standing with two girls. The older girl, Sara, appeared to be about fifteen and the younger one, Jennifer, four. Sara wore a cheering outfit and she did as well.
As if in explanation, Susan said, “You loved the idea of cheering like your sister. I believe it was your mother who made the outfit for you.”
Staring into these faces triggered a surge of sadness and joy and longing. “You took the picture?”
“Yes. That day at the game.”
Jenna traced the face of her sister. Her parents’ marriage, the affair, even their connection should have been on top of her list of questions. Instead, all she could ask was, “Why did he do it? Why did Ronnie kill my family and take me?”
Susan raised a manicured finger and brushed a single strand of hair back in place. “I don’t know. I wish to hell I did, but I don’t know. Have you read the police records?”
“Not yet.”
“Ronnie worked at the high school around the time your sister arrived there as a freshman. By all accounts, no one ever saw the two together. No one understood the depth of his obsession with your sister. She was out of his league and he knew it.”
“He did all this to punish her?”
“That was the theory.”
Jenna’s emotions swirled around her and she had to struggle to keep them silent. She had no idea if Susan was telling her the truth or lying to get her story. The picture she held in her hand might be precious but it could have been taken by anyone. Her defenses rose.
“Can I keep this?” Jenna asked.
“Of course. I brought it for you.”
“Thanks.” She glanced down again at the picture. More emotions of loss and longing swirled.
“Sure. Sure. I’m here for you.” Susan lifted her hand as if to touch Jenna’s hand.
Jenna drew back, straightening. They weren’t friends or comrades. All she knew was that she might have a shared connection to her family. “Thanks.”
Jenna’s phone buzzed. It was her bride. Ready to see her picture. “I’ve got to go. Thank you.”
Susan laid her hand on Jenna’s arm stopping her. “You can trust me. I’m your friend.”
Jenna hesitated, searched the older woman’s eyes, full of sadness. Was she a talented liar or telling the truth? Jenna pulled her arm away and hurried out of the house not sure if Susan had reached out a helping hand or pulled the strings like a puppeteer.
When Rick walked into KC’s bar, it was close to midnight and the place was still crammed full of customers. There were two female singers on the small stage. One of the women, a redhead dressed in jeans and a tank top, played a guitar and the other, a blonde, played the violin. The customers crowded around the stage, swaying time to the music.
He glanced toward the bar and didn’t see KC but his backup bartender instead. Rick made his way through the crowds toward the back office, where KC no doubt was getting a head start on the night’s receipts.
Down a narrow hallway, he spotted the light coming from the door that was ajar. He knocked.
“Go away,” KC grumbled.
Rick smiled and pushed open the door to see KC hunched over a state-of-the art computer. He sported half-glasses and a blue Hawaiian shirt that accentuated his balding head and broad shoulders. “KC.”
The older man turned and his frown softened whe
n he saw Rick. After all the years KC and Buddy had been partners, KC was like family. He snatched off his glasses and rose, crossing the small office in one step. He extended his hand to Rick. “What the hell brings you out? Tell me you’re chasing a woman.”
“Nope, not a woman.”
KC shook his head. “You’re a monk. You need to live a little.”
“I could say the same for you.” He glanced around the office and the wall of cubbies filled with neatly stacked papers. “I hear from Georgia that you work all the time.”
“Don’t feel like work,” KC said. “I like slinging drinks and not chasing bad guys.” He studied Rick with a paternal glare that reminded Rick of his own father. “So what brings you to my neck of the woods?”
“A question about an old case.”
He nodded. “Don’t tell me, Jenna Thompson.”
“You saw the news report.”
“Who hasn’t?”
“When she showed up here, did you have any hint about her past?”
“Nope. Not a one. The last time I saw Jennifer Elliot Thompson was almost twenty-five years ago. She was just five. When Jenna showed up here, she never once mentioned her past.”
“You worked her case with Buddy?”
A scowl deepened the lines of his face. “Everyone worked her case. An entire family was killed and a little girl missing. We were all scrambling to find her. No one figured we’d find her alive.”
“What can you tell me about the case?”
“Open and shut. We found the killer. Dead of an overdose. End of story. We were all glad she was alive.”
“Why’d he do it? Ronnie. Why’d he kill the family?”
“Best we could figure was that he had a thing for Jenna’s older sister. I’ve spent the better part of the last couple of days trying to remember the case but can’t seem to jog too much loose. Have you pulled my case files?”
“I’ve requested them.”
“The files will tell you more than this old memory of mine. Buddy, being Buddy, kept great notes.” KC cocked his head. “So why the interest in the case?”
“I didn’t like being blindsided by the reporter’s question.”
“That happens. Not a call to dig into twenty-five-year-old case files.”
