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Her father sighed. “Saige, you and Alex aren’t the police. What you’re doing could be dangerous, especially if what you’re saying is true. Because if it is true, then your abductor is still out there.”
She jerked her head up and stared at her father as chills raced up and down her spine.
“We’ll be careful, and Alex will be around.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do this. You know that, right?”
“I know...I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry”—he kissed her forehead—“for wanting your memories back. I feel sick to my stomach that I might have pushed to have the wrong man convicted.” He tilted her face up to his. “Promise me, Saige. As soon as you have solid evidence that your abductor wasn’t Quinten, you will call me. I’ve played golf with the governor a few times.”
Saige gasped. “You mean that?”
“If it turns out that you’re right, and Quinten is innocent, then yes. But you still have to keep in mind that he was also convicted of murdering the five college girls. The girls’ DNA was on the table that you were strapped to. This isn’t just about you. It’s about those girls as well.”
“I’m not sure how, but I’m certainly going to try to untangle the secrets still buried.”
“God, it’s no wonder I have grey hair,” her father groaned, and pulled her in for one last hug.
“Dad?”
“Leave it, Saige.”
She wanted to ask more, but her father looked as though he had enough, and not just with her questions and talk of the past.
“I love you, Dad.”
He smiled at her confession. “It always makes my heart feel lighter hearing those words. I love you, too.” He kissed her forehead again, and let her go.
Her dad stood on shaky legs and gave her one more glance before he slowly walked out of the dining room. Saige was left to get herself under control. Not only did she have things to tell Alex, she also wanted answers about the comment he made toward her stepmother.
He made it in anger, but why, if it wasn’t true?
Day 9
2:00pm
* * *
The sun beat down on Alex and Saige as they walked along Main Street. The wooden buildings had been looked after over the years, and despite how much he hated the town, he had to admit it had a southern charm to it. Sidewalks bloomed with color from all the flowers that ran along the wooden porches; even the steps down to the street from each store had flower planters.
Of course, the town kept quiet about the Peterson family because who would want to visit Port Jude when a convicted murderer had lived there?
Alex had hated it then and he still did. His family was ostracized and snubbed. Ridiculed. Even now as he put one foot in front of the other, he felt the stares following him.
Glancing across the street, Alex paused and frowned, his hand going to Saige to keep her close. Outside of the barbershop, the same four wooden rockers sat in front of the window. The same four old men still rocked in them.
“You know what I’m thinking,” he whispered. “If anyone knows anything, it’s going to be those four guys over there.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe they’re still going.”
“Um,” Saige gave a noncommittal murmur. “Let’s go and talk to Agnes in the pharmacy first.”
Alex frowned when Saige gave the old men one last glance before walking off, leaving him standing on the street.
“If it isn’t Alexander Peterson,” a female drawled in front of him.
Alex glanced at the woman and smirked. “Tracy Adams.”
She grinned. “You remember me, huh?”
