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"Your dad's still a cop?" |
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"No, he's retired now. When Gran died I came back here to live. He'd built this place since he couldn't bear to live in the old one. Ed was the sheriff by then. We stayed here about four years. Then he got the job in Lakeview, and we moved when I was sixteen." |
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The words came out of her mouth as if by rote. She told Chris the facts, but something was still missing. He waited awhile, and when D.J. had relaxed against him even more, the day's events and the alcohol dulling her senses, he spoke. |
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"So why do you hate this place, D.J.?" |
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She sighed, a fluttering breath filled with pain, and Chris hugged her closer. She rubbed her cheek against his chest and placed her hand on his thigh. When he glanced down at her face her eyes had closed, and she looked almost asleep. |
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"I was so excited to be coming home," she said, her voice low and tight with pain. "My father visited me maybe twice a year at Gran's, and even then I could tell he only came because she insisted. He could barely stand the sight of me. He'd look in my face and then flinch. I remember trying to hug him when I was little, but he pushed me away, and I stopped. But when he came to take me to live with him I had such hopes we could make things better." |
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Chris sat very still, afraid to interrupt her tale lest she cease the telling. |
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"We came here and things got worse. He worked as much as possible, to avoid looking at me, I suppose. When he was here he'd read the paper or, if it was deer-hunting season, he'd go out in the |
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