Page 17

“Must be valuable,” Buck notes.

Actually, it isn’t. You can get a decent one of those recorders for less than a hundred bucks. Not really worth the fuss Merrick makes over it, so I can’t help but think there must be another reason he can’t let it go.

I take a drink of my beer while keeping an eye on the mayor, when I catch Dana darting by and heading for the kitchen. Something clearly upset her.

Setting down my glass, I round the bar and have a brief stare-down with Len, who quickly concedes with a nod before stepping out of my way.

I find her shrugging into her coat on her way out the back door.

“Everything okay?”

She jumps about a foot in the air before swinging around and snarls, “Would you stop doing that?”

“What?”

“Sneaking up on me. Scaring me half to death.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to see if you’re okay.”

I tilt my head to the side and take in the shiny eyes and the red spots high on her cheeks, all of which she’s trying to hide by turning away.

“I’m fine, I just need some air,” she states, pulling open the door.

I step out after her.

“Yeah, me too. I’ll come with you.”

She turns to look at me.

“I’m actually craving silence.”

“I’ll be quiet,” I return, resolutely grabbing hold of her hand as we walk down the alley.

Dana

* * *

Of all the moments he could’ve picked to hand me Mom’s letter, he had to do it in the pub, in front of almost the entire town.

“She asked me to give this to you in case…”

Pops never finished the sentence, and he didn’t need to. It only confirms my mother knew something was seriously wrong before any of us did.

I snatched the letter from his hand and beelined it out of the bar to be alone.

But, of course, I’m not alone. I’m holding the hand of the man who seems to have a knack for turning up at my most vulnerable moments, and I’m not sure whether I should be pissed or grateful. I find myself vacillating between the two, but can’t make myself to be disgruntled enough to pull my hand free from his warm hold. The envelope my father gave me is crumpled in the other, which is shoved down my coat pocket.

We walk down Main Street toward the park, in silent agreement on our destination, the bandstand on the edge of the river. He sits beside me on the steps facing the water, the clear night allowing the moon’s light to reflect off the surface.

We still haven’t spoken a word when I pull the envelope from my pocket.

“Pops gave me a letter from Mom just now,” I break the silence.

“In the pub?” he questions.

“Yep.”

“His timing is slightly off,” Rick astutely concludes.