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I placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder. “Trust me,” I said with a small smile. “You aren’t missing much.”
She turned to me with red-rimmed eyes. “Aren’t I, though? I’ve spent my whole life wondering about him, imagining how it would be when I finally got to meet him face to face, but now we’ll never get the chance to form a real relationship.”
The revelation slammed down on me like a falling stack of bricks. “Kelley, was Harold…?”
“My dad,” she finished, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crumpled tissue. “He dated my mom way back when. By the time she found out she was pregnant with me, they’d already broken up and he’d moved away.”
I hugged her hard. “I’m so, so sorry.”
She tried to smile, failed. “I guess I wasn’t meant to have a dad. I also guess there’s no reason for me to stick around here anymore. I never should have come. That police officer says my dad was murdered. What if it was my fault somehow?”
“Oh no, sweetie. It definitely wasn’t your fault,” I assured her, but Kelley was not easily assured.
“Think about it,” she said, knitting her brows together in frustration. “I show up in town, and a month later he’s dead. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“Of course it’s a coincidence. A horrible one, but definitely not your fault. You aren’t responsible for your parents’ decisions, and you’re definitely not responsible for Harold’s death.”
She blinked up at me. “Do you mean it?”
I bobbed my head vigorously. “Yes, absolutely.”
Finally Kelley chanced a small smile. “Thanks.”
“If you’ve got some time, I can tell you some stories about him.”
Her smile grew wide and bright. “Really?”
“Yeah. It’s not like we’re open for business. Let’s grab ourselves a snack and settle in for a chat.”
“I’ll make us a couple of pumpkin spice lattes,” Kelley volunteered.
“And I’ll get the snacks!” I headed to the walk-in cooler and grabbed some “fresh-made” banana bread to thaw. When I came back out, Kelley motioned for me to take a seat while she finished up with the drinks.
“You know,” she told me when she came to join me in the lone booth. “My mom told me I was crazy for coming here. For trying to get to know him. I probably should have listened. At least then I’d still be able to imagine what he was like, what he might be doing. Rather than knowing for a fact he was dead.”
And so began a very uncomfortable conversation, indeed.
>
Well, at least it was for me.
11
I pressed my lips in a firm line and nodded as Kelley shared a small glimpse into her family history. The whole purpose of this conversation was for me to help her get to know her late father better, but what if she actually knew more than she realized? What if Kelley had some special glimpse into Harold’s life that helped pinpoint his killer?
She’d certainly been paying better attention to his comings and goings than I ever had.
But my young coworker was also already so distraught over his passing, it seemed wrong to push her for information when that could possibly make things worse for her.
And yet if someone didn’t find out who actually killed Harold—and soon—I could end up taking the blame. Thinking of it in this way made my path obvious.
I cleared my throat and cast my eyes toward the table. “Did things end on bad terms with your mother and father?” I asked, seeing no other option but to nudge her gently and hope for the best.
Kelley sighed and reached for one of the pieces of banana nut bread, then realizing it was still ice cold, placed it back on the plate and wrapped both hands around her to-go cup. “Mom said if she never saw him again it would still be too soon,” she murmured.
“That bad, huh?”
Kelley leaned back against the booth and let her head rest against the worn vinyl cushioning. “Yup.”
