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When she’d finished, Jack laughed. “Yeah, he gave me that story, and I’ll bet the other two car washes had the same cracks but that was the one he wanted rid of.”
Sounded like Jack wasn’t playing Johnson’s games anymore either. “Look, I know you owe the old man, but something is wrong with this situation. I’m not saying that Ray Johnson killed Lucy Cagle. I’m not even saying the missing brother did, but there’s something here. Something ugly, and it’s got Lucy Cagle written all over it.”
“In your opinion, do the police have enough to bring charges?”
Finley didn’t have to think about that one. “Not yet. At least not unless Houser has something he’s not telling us about.”
She trusted Houser ... didn’t she?
He had followed her father ... seen him go to Johnson’s office, and he’d warned her. Houser could have kept that to himself. Finley appreciated the heads-up. She desperately needed to get a handle on what her father was hiding, damn it. He should have called her back by now.
“Nudge him,” Jack suggested, meaning Houser. “Work your charm on him. The guy likes you. He’ll show his hand, if he’s hiding one.”
Where Jack got the idea she had some sort of charm with the male of the species befuddled her. It was so not true. Particularly when it came to cops, Houser included.
“Look”—it was time she gave up the part she’d been holding back—“we may have a problem with my father.”
“What do you mean?”
Finley braked to a stop at a red traffic signal. “You already know Lucy was going to my father for research on missing children in the system.”
“And he told you it was nothing,” Jack reminded her, as if she could have forgotten.
The light changed, and Finley shifted her foot from the brake to the accelerator. She took a breath and then said the rest. “I think he might be leaving out parts. Yesterday Houser followed him, and he stopped at Johnson’s office.My father stopped at Johnson’s office.Johnson wasn’t there, so he came right back out and left.”
When Jack didn’t immediately respond, Finley swallowed the rock lodged in her throat and asked, “Why would he go to Johnson if he was telling me the whole truth?”
“Okay, kid, listen to me. Sometimes we don’t tell the things we worry will make us look a certain way, even if it is only a look and nothing more. Especially when it comes to the people close to us. We’re terrified it will change their perception of us.”
“He’s hiding something, Jack.” Fear twisted in her belly. “I just don’t know how bad it is yet.”
“Bart would not hurt anyone. He definitely wouldn’t kill anyone,” Jack reminded her.
“But there are plenty of bad things that don’t include murder, Jack. We both know that.”
Finley had done more than her share of bad things ... she just hadn’t killed anyone—at least not directly.
Who was she to judge her father?
No. That was wrong. She wasn’t judging her father. She was fucking terrified for him.
A beep told her she had another call coming in.
Houser.
“Gotta go, Jack. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Finley didn’t wait for him to respond. She switched to the incoming call.
“Hey.” She held her breath, hoping he didn’t have worse news to pass along. Particularly if it involved her father.
“He’s agreed to meet with you.”
Her heart bumped into a faster pace. She didn’t have to ask who. She understood he meant Carson Dempsey. “When?”
“Three today, at his house. I know it’s short notice, but this is his offer.”
She glanced at the digital clock on the dash. She had fifteen minutes. Her foot instinctively pressed harder on the accelerator. “I’ll be there.”
