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“What part?”
“A suburb of Denver.”
“That’s where your grandmother lived?” She’d told him, the first time they’d met, that she, like him, had lived with her grandmother.
Now he knew why.
She nodded.
“You want to watch an episode of The Andy Griffith Show?”
She blinked and looked at him as though he’d suggested they eat chocolate for breakfast. And then she smiled a real smile. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
Opening the drawer next to her, she pulled out a couple of remote controls and within minutes they were engrossed in a world where good always won out over evil, kids were safe and you just knew that everything was going to be okay.
* * *
MARK HEBER WASN’T the only person who knew about the fire. He was just the only person in her adult life whom she’d told.
It didn’t really mean anything. He understood fire. And he only knew that a house had gone up in flames. Not where the house had been.
He had no knowledge of the circumstances....
She wasn’t even sure Will Parsons knew the whole story. Sheriff Richards could find out the official version—if he had a mind to. Maybe he already had.
But from what little Gran had told her, and the things she’d overheard, she knew the official version had been adjusted.
Okay, fudged. Mostly for her sake.
If a man committed murder and then suicide, insurance wouldn’t pay. If he simply died in a fire with the
rest of his family, it would.
And if the man was a firefighter, one of their own, if he’d risked his life over and over for the good of the town, if he’d only made one mistake in his life, then the powers that be—which in this case meant the firefighter’s best friend, who also happened to be the fire marshal—could fudge a report.... Which meant, in turn, that the man could get away with murder.
Her father’s best friend had stopped in to visit Gran several years later...to ease his conscience and make sure his lies had done good—not harm. He’d come to check on Addy.
And she’d overheard more than she should have.
She’d been twelve at the time.
Gran had been right to cut her off from Shelter Valley so completely. She’d been back for a week and she was already falling apart.
Or she would be if she allowed herself to dwell on the past. If she gave in to the self-pity that Gran had taught her to avoid. As a child she’d had every reason to feel sorry for herself.
But if she’d done so, she would never have found the focus to finish law school. Never have been able to contribute to society as she did, making her life worth living.
As it was, Addy left for classes Monday morning, determined to take life head-on and win. She had a job to do. A job she wanted to do. If someone was out to frame Will Parsons, Addy was going to do everything she could to help Greg Richards find the evidence he needed to arrest the creep.
She wasn’t in Shelter Valley on vacation. She wouldn’t visit any of the places she’d been with her parents, wouldn’t drive by the school she’d attended with her brother, or see the park where they used to play. She’d attend her classes. Stick her nose in every nook and cranny on campus—she’d never spent time there as a child. Most of the research could be done from her duplex. And when she needed groceries or anything else, she’d shop in Phoenix—or at the new big-box store outside of town.
She wouldn’t develop relationships with anyone. Not even the casual kind. She wasn’t here to stay. And had no intention of ever coming back.
Couldn’t have anything calling her back.
Her mind firmly set, Addy sat through an introductory botany class and a first-year biology class, watching students, analyzing teacher response, and then headed to the campus bookstore with a wad of cash to purchase textbooks she’d sell back just as soon as she could.
The place was a zoo—long lineups of students with not as many books in hand as she’d expected. Montford provided students the opportunity to purchase most of their classroom materials in ebook form and, by the look of things, a good many of them were doing so. Not sure about the buy-back policy on ebooks, she was opting for print copies.
