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“Easy,” he murmured.

The low, menacing growl cut off mid-thrum. Kodi shifted back to Wes’s side of the seat, still alert but no longer poised to lunge.

“I came to town to find Morgan,” the man said. “My daughter. But her house is empty. She hasn’t been there in weeks. I talked to a few people at her place of employment who said she’s on indefinite leave but I couldn’t get any other details out of them. I was about to go to the cops, then I see the kids, my grandchildren, walking home one day after school. To an entirely different house than the one where my daughter is supposed to be living.”

He swallowed hard. “So I’ve been trying to keep an eye on them without directly approaching them. I don’t want to scare anybody or . . . or violate my daughter’s wishes. I just need to know she’s okay.”

Wes let the silence stretch. Ed Walker didn’t rush to fill it. He just sat there in his truck, hands fixed at ten and two on the steering wheel and his alert gaze scanning their surroundings.

Definitely trained.

“You on the job?” Wes asked.

“Was,” Ed said. “Thirty years. Retired now.”

Wes eased a fraction. Not enough to unclip Kodi’s leash or let his guard down completely, but enough to shift from confrontation to consideration.

“Then you know exactly how this looks,” he said.

“Yeah. Not good.” The man pursed his lips. “I didn’t know what else to do except watch while I try to figure out what’s going on. I don’t have Morgan’s number. She changed it. And she’s blocked me on her social media. I don’t have any other way to reach her.”

Why not? Wes frowned. He didn’t like any of this.

“What happened?” Wes asked. “Why did your own daughter cut you off like that?”

“My fault. Completely my fault,” Ed said. The despair in his voice spoke volumes.

“I am the kind of guy who always thinks he knows what’s best for everyone. It’s a terrible character flaw. When Morgan pushed back, I said things I shouldn’t have. And I pushed back even harder.”

Ed heaved a sigh that seemed to shake the whole vehicle. “I thought I was protecting them from any pain. I was too stubborn and bullheaded to see that I was only causing more.”

His mouth twisted with self-disgust. “Eventually, I gave her no choice. She left. Took the kids. Cut contact. It’s been six months and she hasn’t reached out once.”

He looked down at his hands, knuckles pale on the steering wheel. “I’m trying to fix it before it’s too late. But I can’t fix anything if I can’t find my daughter.”

Something in his voice, stripped of bravado, hit Wes hard.

Before it’s too late.

The phrase echoed in the quiet cab.

For a heartbeat, Wes saw a different scene layered over this one. Hannah on her parents’ porch all those years ago, snow swirling in the glow of the porch light, her eyes swimming with tears.

I thought we were building a future, Wes. I love you.

And his own voice, cold and distant and so sure he was doing the right thing. I can’t do this with you right now. I can’t be what you need.

He had convinced himself he knew best. That leaving was the clean, safe, merciful thing for her.

Ed shifted slightly and the ghost images from the past dissolved.

“When you know you’re in the wrong,” the other man said, “don’t ever take too long to admit it or you might completely miss your chance.”

The words slid under Wes’s ribs like another knife wound.

“We’re not talking about me,” he said, his voice edged in ice.

“No,” Ed agreed. “We’re talking about men who screw up and then let their pride stand in the way of making things right.”