hometown to? Or what sort of information about her Cranston Langdon might be able to access?
Nobody. The guy was clearly crazy. He had to have known that attacking his own wife was only going to deepen his troubles. Apparently he either didn’t care, or wasn’t capable of caring. Hell, if people feared consequences, there’d never be a murder.
Sorely troubled, he sat a while longer, watching pedestrians stride along the sidewalks, everything looking so damn normal he couldn’t believe how much had changed by the insertion of one wounded woman into his life.
Nothing looked the same anymore. Nothing. All because of Nora.
And dammit, he had to do something more to keep an eye on her than rely on the loose cordon Gage was instituting. A whole lot more. But just what? How could he insert himself further into her life? She’d warmed to him a bit over the past twenty-four hours, but he doubted she wanted him camped on her doorstep.
And then there was Fred Loftis. He’d have to find a way around that man or be forbidden to set foot on his property.
He paused in midthought, as it struck him that he seemed like an odd choice for Fred to have sent after Nora. They weren’t friends. Far from it. Fred could have asked anyone from his church.
So why the hell send the chief of police? The more Jake thought about it, the more disturbed he was by what had initially seemed to be nothing but a neighbor’s request.
What the hell was Fred Loftis up to? Did he know something about that long-ago night and what Nora had done? What he had done? Had asking Jake been intended to cause more pain?
Or was it Fred’s way of reminding his daughter that she was a sinner?
Damn! He wanted to pound the steering wheel. He wished like hell he could read minds.
But he couldn’t. And he was beginning to have a horrifying feeling that Nora might be tangled in more than one spider’s web.
He had to figure out something. Anything. And soon.
* * *
Nora sent a few text messages to friends back in Minneapolis, assuring them she was okay but was careful to avoid telling them where she had gone. Denver was the closest she had come to telling them her plans when she left, but she imagined none of them suspected she was here. After all, she’d made no secret of where she had come from, and no secret of her problems with her father. She doubted any of them would think she had come home.
She could hardly believe it herself. What was she doing here in this house, a house that still echoed with angry words spoken so long ago, when her father had insisted her mother had killed herself because Nora had gone away to college to live a sinful life? Him shouting those damning words, and her shouting back that if anything had made her mother suicidal, it had been life with a harsh, judgmental man who wouldn’t even allow her a single thought or act of her own.
A man, she thought bitterly now, who had gotten a dishwasher when he no longer had a woman to clean up after him. A dishwasher! Her mother had asked for one once, when she often had tons of dishes to do after contributing to a church supper, when her hands had become arthritic and the job had begun to pain her, and the answer had been, “Idle hands...”
Yeah, idle hands. Her mother’s hands had never been idle, even when they got so bad she could no longer do her crewelwork or her knitting. Nora had stepped in as much as possible with the chores, but the desire to escape that house had overwhelmed her, too. College had been her way out. There had been none for her mother.
Maybe her father was right. Maybe her leaving had taken away her mother’s last support. Maybe she had left Gretchen Loftis feeling hopeless. Certainly, her mom had been left without anyone to buffer her against her dad.
Nora, at least, had often provided him another object for his endless sermons and criticisms. With Nora gone, Gretchen must have born the full brunt.
God! She couldn’t afford to think that way. She had to
Nobody. The guy was clearly crazy. He had to have known that attacking his own wife was only going to deepen his troubles. Apparently he either didn’t care, or wasn’t capable of caring. Hell, if people feared consequences, there’d never be a murder.
Sorely troubled, he sat a while longer, watching pedestrians stride along the sidewalks, everything looking so damn normal he couldn’t believe how much had changed by the insertion of one wounded woman into his life.
Nothing looked the same anymore. Nothing. All because of Nora.
And dammit, he had to do something more to keep an eye on her than rely on the loose cordon Gage was instituting. A whole lot more. But just what? How could he insert himself further into her life? She’d warmed to him a bit over the past twenty-four hours, but he doubted she wanted him camped on her doorstep.
And then there was Fred Loftis. He’d have to find a way around that man or be forbidden to set foot on his property.
He paused in midthought, as it struck him that he seemed like an odd choice for Fred to have sent after Nora. They weren’t friends. Far from it. Fred could have asked anyone from his church.
So why the hell send the chief of police? The more Jake thought about it, the more disturbed he was by what had initially seemed to be nothing but a neighbor’s request.
What the hell was Fred Loftis up to? Did he know something about that long-ago night and what Nora had done? What he had done? Had asking Jake been intended to cause more pain?
Or was it Fred’s way of reminding his daughter that she was a sinner?
Damn! He wanted to pound the steering wheel. He wished like hell he could read minds.
But he couldn’t. And he was beginning to have a horrifying feeling that Nora might be tangled in more than one spider’s web.
He had to figure out something. Anything. And soon.
* * *
Nora sent a few text messages to friends back in Minneapolis, assuring them she was okay but was careful to avoid telling them where she had gone. Denver was the closest she had come to telling them her plans when she left, but she imagined none of them suspected she was here. After all, she’d made no secret of where she had come from, and no secret of her problems with her father. She doubted any of them would think she had come home.
She could hardly believe it herself. What was she doing here in this house, a house that still echoed with angry words spoken so long ago, when her father had insisted her mother had killed herself because Nora had gone away to college to live a sinful life? Him shouting those damning words, and her shouting back that if anything had made her mother suicidal, it had been life with a harsh, judgmental man who wouldn’t even allow her a single thought or act of her own.
A man, she thought bitterly now, who had gotten a dishwasher when he no longer had a woman to clean up after him. A dishwasher! Her mother had asked for one once, when she often had tons of dishes to do after contributing to a church supper, when her hands had become arthritic and the job had begun to pain her, and the answer had been, “Idle hands...”
Yeah, idle hands. Her mother’s hands had never been idle, even when they got so bad she could no longer do her crewelwork or her knitting. Nora had stepped in as much as possible with the chores, but the desire to escape that house had overwhelmed her, too. College had been her way out. There had been none for her mother.
Maybe her father was right. Maybe her leaving had taken away her mother’s last support. Maybe she had left Gretchen Loftis feeling hopeless. Certainly, her mom had been left without anyone to buffer her against her dad.
Nora, at least, had often provided him another object for his endless sermons and criticisms. With Nora gone, Gretchen must have born the full brunt.
God! She couldn’t afford to think that way. She had to
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