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“I had you before your age,” she added. I watch her brain process that, and then her lips form another straight line because I’ve pointed out something obvious. She had her own husband, house and child by the time she was my age. She did what she wanted, separate from her parents. “Go talk to him. He’ll be glad to see you. Neither of us wants to make this hard on you. You’ve had enough difficulty to last a lifetime.”
“It’s true that I’ve had more difficulty than most, but we all need to move forward. That includes you, and that includes Dad. As long as he’s letting these wounds fester, trying to figure out whether Jonathan Bridger had something to do with me being taken, he won’t be able to move forward.”
I don’t wait for my mother to reply. I kiss her on the cheek and walk to the den. The door is cracked, but I knock anyway.
“What is it, Darla?”
I open the door. “It’s me, Daddy.”
He looks up, his eyes wide. “Carly.”
“Yes. I came home.”
He’s behind his desk and his eyes fill with hope and determination at the sight of me. “Thank God you came to your senses.”
I resist an eye roll. I’m here to work things out, not make things worse.
I walk inside his office and take a seat in front of the table. “I think we need to talk.”
He firmly nods, his jaw set in his familiar stubborn tilt. “Absolutely, we do. No more Austin Bridger.”
I shake my head. “Daddy, Austin is a good man. I’ve said this to you before. He’s not his father. And neither are Miles and Chance.”
“Do I need to remind you what happened just this morning?”
Was it just this morning? It’s been a crazy, long day.
“Hardly. I haven’t been able to get the image out of my mind.”
“Good men don’t normally have dead bodies on their property.”
“The body was there for a long time, Daddy.”
No one knew for sure how long ago the man died, but I overheard the coroner share an estimate of at least two months. “We don’t even know if the man died in that spot, or if he was left on the Bridger property. It was found in a creek, so it could’ve come from anywhere, especially with those heavy spring rains we had. I know you remember all the flooded basements the town dealt with.”
Dad harrumphs. As mayor, he certainly remembers all the chaos too much water brought to our small town.
At least he doesn’t deny my words. My father may be angry and tense, but he’s an intelligent man.
“The beaver dam is what kept him underwater all this time.” A little shiver runs through me at the memory. “If you hadn’t forced them to break it up, the body may never have been found. I’m sure the sheriff shared all this with you.”
He looks down at his hands and nods. They are facts, not opinions, and I was the one who found the body, who knows as much, if not more, than him.
“Chance is going to go talk to the sheriff tomorrow,” I add.
He looks up at me. “And the other two?”
“Unofficially, the death clearly predates their arrival at the ranch. The sheriff sees no reason to talk to them.”
Dad’s eyes flare. “He doesn’t? Bryant grilled you and Dr. Davis for what seemed like hours.”
“Because we found the body,” I say. “They wanted information. They didn’t think we had anything to do with it. Never once did they imply they thought we did anything wrong.”
Dad shakes his head and looks down at some documents spread across his desk.
“I’m willing to stay home, Daddy,” I tell him. “But my time here will be finite. Only until you and I work out our differences.”
“You know what’s necessary if that’s what you want.”
