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      “You think it’s okay to bring a child to—”

      “I have a babysitter lined up.”

      Travis looked as if he wanted to say more, but he resisted.

      “I’ll make her a peanut-butter sandwich,” Elena said.

      “Great. I’ll go change clothes.”

      Ten minutes later Eric was in the car with MacKenzie snug in her car seat with a sandwich and his iPhone, where she was watching cartoons. She was quiet for a long time, leaving Eric far too alone with his thoughts.

      He couldn’t stomach even the thought of anyone hurting his little girl. Though Ralston’s threat had been issued years ago, when Eric was a green convict, Eric recalled every word as if it were an hour ago.

      You better not rat me out, Riggs, or your life won’t be worth the ink on your fancy law degree. You may leave here. You may think you’re safe. But vengeance will come when you least expect it.

      At that point everything about prison had scared Eric. He still didn’t know where he’d come up with the courage to try to stop a fight. But when Ralston and the other man had squared off, each of them brandishing a homemade weapon, Eric had been naive enough to try to calm them down.

      Stepping between them just as the second man struck hadn’t been his sharpest move. Ralston’s vicious countermove had cut Eric stem to stern.

      Reflexively, he rubbed his chest again. The scar still throbbed when he was nervous.

      I don’t care what happens to me. That was what Eric had retorted, because at the time, he’d thought death might be preferable to the hell of prison.

      No? What about that cute little girl of yours? What’s her name? MacKenzie? When I get done with her, there won’t be enough left to identify at the morgue.

      Eric’s gut twisted as he recalled Ralston’s threat. He’d wanted to tell Ralston to back off, that if he touched one hair on his daughter’s head, Eric would kill him. Painfully.

      But the words hadn’t come. It had been all he could do not to puke.

      Ruthlessly, Eric shoved the memory aside and focused on the upcoming meeting. This shouldn’t be a big deal. He would listen to Philomene’s story, then politely tell Bree that he was sorry, but his decision stood. Then he’d buy MacKenzie an ice cream and come back home. MacKenzie would probably go to sleep during the drive home. She loved riding in the car.

      “Daddy, when are we gonna get there?”

      “We’re more than halfway there. Are you tired of your cartoons?”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “You can look out the window. We’re going to a new place you’ve never been before. Tuckerville.” What a name. He could only imagine what kind of backwater wasteland Tuckerville was. Why a woman of Bree’s obvious intelligence and sophistication chose to live there was a mystery. He couldn’t imagine wanting to live so far from any big city, so far from shopping and fine restaurants and...good haircuts. That was one thing he’d really missed in prison—getting a decent haircut. Sometimes it was the small things.

      “It’s dark out there,” MacKenzie said. “I can’t see anything.”

      “Look off to the right. There’s a radio tower. See those red lights?” They were driving through farm and ranch land. Not much to see at night. “When we listen to the radio, that’s where the sound comes from.”

      “Oh.”

      At least MacKenzie was talking again. When he’d first gotten out of prison, he could barely get two words out of her. But more than two months later, she was starting to open up a little. The foster home she’d lived in during his incarceration had been a pretty bad place, though no one knew how bad until Travis had realized the foster parents were selling MacKenzie’s clothes and toys on eBay.

      “Now look up at the sky.”

      He heard MacKenzie give a little gasp of surprise, and he smiled. It was a clear winter night, and they were far enough away from the city now that the sky was blanketed with stars. When Eric was a kid, he’d loved the stars, even though he hadn’t been able to see all that many in the city. He’d checked out book after book on astronomy and had even thought he might make that his life’s work. He remembered dragging Travis up onto the roof of their apartment building and pointing out the constellations—the Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt, Cassiopeia’s Chair.

      “There’s so many stars,” MacKenzie said softly, almost to herself, a tinge of awe in her voice.

      “Some weekend we’ll go camping, and we’ll get a telescope and look at the stars and the moon and the planets. Would you like that?”

      “Uh-huh,” she said almost absently, her head leaning against the window as she took in the blanket of diamonds overhead. She remained quiet for the next thirty minutes, just looking at the night sky. It warmed his heart to think maybe she’d inherited his love for studying the heavens.

      “Are we almost there?”

      “Almost. Suzy says ten more minutes.” Suzy was the name they’d given the female voice on his car’s GPS.

      MacKenzie sighed.

      “What flavor ice cream do you want?”

      “Pineapple,” she said decisively.

      “They might not have pineapple ice cream. We’ll just have to see. Did you finish your sandwich?”

      She held up what was left of the half sandwich Elena had made for her. She’d eaten a few bites, at least. At her foster home, MacKenzie had developed the unfortunate habit of hoarding food. She seldom ate very much, choosing instead to save her food for later. No matter how many times Eric reassured her that she could eat as much as she wanted, she obviously was still fearful about going hungry.

      “I’m going to have dinner at the diner before my ice cream,” he said. “How about you?”

      “Do they have grilled cheese?”

      “I imagine so. Maybe soup, too.” She loved soup, and it wasn’t something she could hoard.

      The momentous decision of what to choose for dinner occupied her until they crossed the city limits of the great metropolis of Tuckerville.

      It was a little bigger than he’d expected, with a quaint main street boasting old-fashioned streetlights, a theater showing last year’s movies, an antiques mall and a quilt shop. Most everything except the theater was closed, the sidewalks deserted. Then he spotted the Home Cookin’ Café, right where Bree had said it would be, at the corner of Main and Maple.

      The café was like something out of an old movie, all chrome and rounded corners and an Art Deco neon sign advertising Shakes, Malts and Sodas. He wondered if it was the real thing or someone’s retro fantasy.

      He pulled into the small parking lot, which was nearly full. Clearly the place was doing a brisk business.

      MacKenzie was more than ready СКАЧАТЬ