Page 116 of Into the Fire


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“Not yet.”

“You know, there’s more to life than work.”

“Says the man who views cold case files as recreational reading.”

“Ha-ha. Why aren’t you out with Davis? It’s date night.”

“We’re waiting another week, just in case a new lead does surface and we have to work together. We want to keep our personal and professional lives separate.” And now that she was done discussing that topic, an offensive play was in order. “Why aren’tyouout on a date?”

“Haven’t met anyone who’s piqued my interest.”

“If you socialized more you might.”

“I’m not into the Friday night bar scene, and there aren’t any eligible women at church who appeal to me.”

Bri arched her eyebrows.

Instead of blowing her off with a flippant remark, as usual, he’d given a serious answer. And was there a hint of wistfulness in his voice?

Was Jack the loner finally beginning to show some interest in dating?

She closed her laptop screen halfway and gave the conversation her full attention. “If you want to spice up your social life, there are reputable dating apps out there.”

“That feels too artificial. If it’s meant to be, someone will come along. Look how you met Davis. You want to ride together to church on Sunday?”

In other words, subject closed. And if she pushed, Jack would clam up like he always did when anyone poked too hard into his private affairs. Sisters included.

“Sure.”

Once they decided on a service and his ETA at her place, Jack signed off without returning to the subject of his lackluster social life.

Nevertheless, it was still on her mind.

What was up with her brother?

Did Cara know?

She put in a call to her sister.

Cara answered on the first ring, alarm raising her pitch. “Bri? What’s wrong?”

Well, crud. She’d upset Cara. A pox on Jack for telling her about the shooting.

“Nothing. Calm down. Can’t a girl call her sister?”

“Yeah. Sure. But you never call on Friday night.”

“I do have an ulterior motive.” She relayed her conversation with Jack. “Do you have any idea what’s going on with him? He seemed ... I don’t know. Lost, I guess. And lonely.”

“He gets like that in October.”

“Since when?”

“For the past three or four years, I guess.”

“Why?”

“No idea.”

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