"He didn't mention anything about this." Dylan ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely shaken. "But it explains why he's been so distracted the past couple days."
"Please don't mention it," I said. "I've put your family through enough."
The silence stretched between us again, but it felt less fraught than before. Just sad and final.
"I hope you find your father," Dylan said. "Take care of yourself, Bernadette."
He turned and walked back toward the distillery, his shoulders hunched against the cold. I watched him go, pinging with the sense of what could've been if circumstances had been different.
"You okay?"
I jumped slightly. Jett had appeared beside me, his expression concerned.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"That looked intense." He glanced toward the distillery entrance where Dylan had disappeared. "You miss him?"
I considered the question, searching for honest feelings beneath the guilt and regret. "Actually, no," I said, surprising myself. "I'm just sorry for causing so much trouble. For everyone."
Jett gave me a flat smile. "Come on. Let's get back to the bus where it's warm."
He guided me back toward the bus, his hand steady at my elbow.
December 4, Thursday
bottle rinse stationa machine or manual setup that rinses new bottles before filling
THE INDUSTRIALdryers rumbled like a heartbeat, throwing off waves of heat that made the laundry room the warmest spot in the entire campground. I sat on the folding table, my back pressed against the vibrating metal of the nearest machine, savoring the warmth that seeped through my jacket.
Octavia Guy leaned against the table beside me, looking distinctly out of place in her designer wool coat and leather boots. She'd called earlier asking to meet, saying she had something important to discuss. I'd suggested the laundry room, and to her credit, she hadn't complained.
"I owe you an apology," Octavia said. "I should've never encouraged you to put so much stock in that facial recognition analysis. The technology is promising, but it's far from foolproof."
"It's not your fault. You were trying to help."
"Still, I feel responsible for getting your hopes up about Boyd Biggs." She frowned. "Linda's been on my case about it all week. Says I'm too quick to jump to conclusions."
"Bizarrely, it turned out for the best." I shifted, angling myself to catch more heat. "If I hadn't suspected Boyd, I wouldn't have asked him for a DNA test. And if he hadn't arrived to give me those results in person, he wouldn't have been at the campground when Teddy Reeves attacked me."
She looked as if she didn't believe Boyd's timing had been altruistic, and I didn't mention his intention to leave the DNAresults—and a fat check—on my van windshield. Octavia let it slide.
"You've been through hell this year."
"Kentucky hasn't exactly rolled out the welcome mat."
"Have you considered uploading your DNA to one of the ancestry services? I know I mentioned it before, but given everything that's happened—"
"I'll think about it."
"You should do more than think about it. These databases are massive now. Even if your father hasn't submitted his DNA, you might find half-siblings, cousins, someone who could point you in the right direction."
"Maybe."
"What do you have to lose at this point?"
The question hung in the warm air between us. My dryer buzzed, signaling the cycle's end.
Octavia pushed off the table. "I should get back to the office before Linda sends out a search party. You know where to find me if you need anything." She left, her expensive boots clicking against the concrete floor.
