Page 65 of Jack

“Sir.”

“How’s your father?”

She seemed to pale at that. “Um. Last I checked, fine.”

Jack frowned, but he turned to the sheriff. “Why ‘of course not’?”

“Ty Bowman is in critical care at the Waconia hospital. Was found in his car, shot in the head, last night. I personally brought his mother to the hospital.”

“Holy cats,” Harper said quietly.

What she said. He turned back to Jenna. “Now can we put a BOLO out on Penelope?”

“Is there any reason to think that she might be in danger?”

He stared at her. “Gunshot to the head?”

“Twenty-four hours after she was picked up. I don’t see the connection, Jack.”

He stared at her, back at Harper.

The sheriff lifted a hand. “Yes. We can put a BOLO out for her. Do you have a picture and a description?”

“I’ve got one,” Harper said and pulled up her phone, handing it to Jenna.

Ten minutes later, they walked out of the station into the blue-skied, frigid day.

Jack couldn’t stop himself. “What’s with the chill between you and Jenna?”

Harper looked at him. “Really?” She reached for the door handle of his Geo. “Jenna is the reason my parents are divorced. She completely wrecked my life.”

* * *

Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask.

But what was the man going to do when she made a statement like that, let it fall between them like an unpulled grenade?

Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?

She looked out the window as Jack drove them to Waconia, some thirty miles down the road. He made no comment.

“I didn’t realize you were friends,” she said.Whoops.

“We’re not, really. She and Doyle went out for a little while, in college. I saw them on campus at the U a few times. She was pursuing a law degree.”

Oh. She shook her head against her stupid overactive imagination. And really, she had no claim on the man, despite what her heart said.

“How old were you when your parents got divorced?”

“Twelve, but they had years of separations before that. First one was when I was eight.”

“That’s young.”

“Third grade. I still remember watching out my attic window as he drove away.” She sighed. “That time, it was my fault.”

He glanced at her. “It’s never the fault of an eight-year-old child, Harper.”

She said nothing, the words roping inside her.