boy, but he couldn’t just ignore the things his own wife said.”
“He threw me out.”
“And he’s wanted to make it right. I can’t count the times he wanted to call you, or write you. He even asked me once if I’d drive to New York with him. He said there were things to say, and not all things should be trusted to paper.”
“Wanting is not the same as doing.”
“That’s true.”
I thought of the blank page I’d found on my father’s desk. “What stopped him?”
“Pride. And your stepmother.”
“Janice.” The name came with difficulty.
“She’s a decent woman, Adam. A loving mother. Good for your father. In spite of everything, I still believe that, just as she believes what she saw that night. I can promise that these five years have not been easy on her, either. It’s not like she had a choice. We all act on what we believe.”
“You want me to forgive him?” I asked.
“I want you to give him a chance.”
“His loyalty should be to me.”
Dolf sighed. “You’re not his only family, Adam.”
“I was his first.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Your mother was beautiful and he adored her. But things changed when she died. You changed most of all.”
“I had my reasons.”
A sudden brightness moved into Dolf’s eyes. The manner of her death hit us all hard. “He loved your mother, Adam. Marrying again was not something he did lightly. Gray Wilson’s death put him in a difficult place. He had to choose between believing you and believing his wife. Do you think that could be easy or anything but dangerous? Try to see it like that.”
“There’s no conflict today. What about now?”
“Now is… complicated. There’s the timing. The things Grace said.”
“What about you, then? Is today complicated for you?”
Dolf turned in his seat. He faced me with blunt features and a level gaze. “I believe what Grace told me, but I know you, too. So, while I don’t know what, exactly, to believe, I do think that this will all be sorted out in time.” He looked away. “Sinners usually pay for their sins.”
I studied his raw face, the chapped lips and the drooping eyes that ill-concealed the grief. “You honestly believe that?” I asked.
He looked up at the humming lights, so that a bright, gray sheen seemed to cover his eyes. His voice drifted, and was pale as smoke.
“I do,” he said. “I absolutely do.”
CHAPTER 7
Ten minutes later, the cops materialized in the door. Robin appeared subdued, while the other cop made small, eager movements. Tall and round-shouldered, he was somewhere north of fifty, in faded jeans and a red jacket. Brown hair spread thinly over a narrow forehead and sharp nose. A badge hung on his belt and small, round glasses flashed over washed-out eyes.
“Can we talk outside?” Robin asked.
Dolf sat up straighter, but said nothing. I got up and followed them out. Jamie was nowhere to be seen. The other cop held out a hand. “I’m Detective Grantham,” he said. We shook hands. “I work for the sheriff, so don’t let the clothes fool you.”
His smile broadened, but I knew better than to trust it. No smile could be real tonight. “Adam Chase,” I said.
His face went flat. “I know who you are, Mr. Chase—I’ve read the file—and I will make every effort to keep that knowledge from coloring my objectivity.”
I kept my calm, but it took some effort. No one knew a thing about me in New York. I’d grown used to it. “Are you capable of that?” I asked.
“I never knew the boy that was killed. I know he was liked, that he was football hero and all that; that he had a lot of family around here. I know that they made a lot of noise about rich men’s justice. But that was all before my time. You’re just like anybody else to me, Mr. Chase. No preconceptions.”
He gestured at Robin. “Now, Detective Alexander has told me about your relationship to the victim. None of us likes to see cases like this, but
“He threw me out.”
“And he’s wanted to make it right. I can’t count the times he wanted to call you, or write you. He even asked me once if I’d drive to New York with him. He said there were things to say, and not all things should be trusted to paper.”
“Wanting is not the same as doing.”
“That’s true.”
I thought of the blank page I’d found on my father’s desk. “What stopped him?”
“Pride. And your stepmother.”
“Janice.” The name came with difficulty.
“She’s a decent woman, Adam. A loving mother. Good for your father. In spite of everything, I still believe that, just as she believes what she saw that night. I can promise that these five years have not been easy on her, either. It’s not like she had a choice. We all act on what we believe.”
“You want me to forgive him?” I asked.
“I want you to give him a chance.”
“His loyalty should be to me.”
Dolf sighed. “You’re not his only family, Adam.”
“I was his first.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Your mother was beautiful and he adored her. But things changed when she died. You changed most of all.”
“I had my reasons.”
A sudden brightness moved into Dolf’s eyes. The manner of her death hit us all hard. “He loved your mother, Adam. Marrying again was not something he did lightly. Gray Wilson’s death put him in a difficult place. He had to choose between believing you and believing his wife. Do you think that could be easy or anything but dangerous? Try to see it like that.”
“There’s no conflict today. What about now?”
“Now is… complicated. There’s the timing. The things Grace said.”
“What about you, then? Is today complicated for you?”
Dolf turned in his seat. He faced me with blunt features and a level gaze. “I believe what Grace told me, but I know you, too. So, while I don’t know what, exactly, to believe, I do think that this will all be sorted out in time.” He looked away. “Sinners usually pay for their sins.”
I studied his raw face, the chapped lips and the drooping eyes that ill-concealed the grief. “You honestly believe that?” I asked.
He looked up at the humming lights, so that a bright, gray sheen seemed to cover his eyes. His voice drifted, and was pale as smoke.
“I do,” he said. “I absolutely do.”
CHAPTER 7
Ten minutes later, the cops materialized in the door. Robin appeared subdued, while the other cop made small, eager movements. Tall and round-shouldered, he was somewhere north of fifty, in faded jeans and a red jacket. Brown hair spread thinly over a narrow forehead and sharp nose. A badge hung on his belt and small, round glasses flashed over washed-out eyes.
“Can we talk outside?” Robin asked.
Dolf sat up straighter, but said nothing. I got up and followed them out. Jamie was nowhere to be seen. The other cop held out a hand. “I’m Detective Grantham,” he said. We shook hands. “I work for the sheriff, so don’t let the clothes fool you.”
His smile broadened, but I knew better than to trust it. No smile could be real tonight. “Adam Chase,” I said.
His face went flat. “I know who you are, Mr. Chase—I’ve read the file—and I will make every effort to keep that knowledge from coloring my objectivity.”
I kept my calm, but it took some effort. No one knew a thing about me in New York. I’d grown used to it. “Are you capable of that?” I asked.
“I never knew the boy that was killed. I know he was liked, that he was football hero and all that; that he had a lot of family around here. I know that they made a lot of noise about rich men’s justice. But that was all before my time. You’re just like anybody else to me, Mr. Chase. No preconceptions.”
He gestured at Robin. “Now, Detective Alexander has told me about your relationship to the victim. None of us likes to see cases like this, but
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