“Not a bad idea,” Hank said.
Jack didn’t respond.
“He giving Jane any trouble?”
Jack thought of Jane’s veiled look, Lauren’s quick, uncertain glance.
If he bothers you, you let me know.
Why? So you and my dad can discuss my lousy judgment in men? I don’t need that kind of help.
“You could ask her yourself,” he suggested.Leave me out of it.
“It might have escaped your notice,” Hank said, his drawl thickening, “you being a big-city detective and all, but my daughter and I aren’t exactly what you’d call close.”
“I noticed. I just don’t understand why. Seeing as how you’re so easy to get along with,” Jack added dryly.
A snort of laughter escaped Hank before his face relapsed into its usual gloomy lines. “I should have put in more time at home when she was growing up.”
Jack shifted, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. He didn’t think Hank was the type to stand around jawing about hisfeelings. But you never could tell. “You can’t change what’s past.”
He was pretty sure the shrink had said that. Something like that anyway.
“She always seemed to be doing okay. Never any trouble, that girl. Not untilhecame sniffing around.”
Jack reached for the hose again to avoid answering. Maybe Jane had been a model daughter before Tillett. Or maybe Hank was kidding himself. In Jack’s experience, you didn’t see what you didn’t want to see.
Look at the way Jack had fucked up his marriage. He’d known Renee wasn’t happy. The signs were all there. Work... Well, they’d both always worked too many hours. And the sex had been good, at least until the very end. But there had been plenty of clues, if he’d been willing to see them—the calls she didn’t take, the simmering silences, the snide comments in front of their friends. He’d chosen to ignore them, and that was on him.
He’d never suspected his wife was fucking his partner, though.Don’t shit where you eat. And that was on them.
His hand flexed on the sponge. He could still feel the phantom throb of his knuckles where they’d connected with Frank’s jaw. Still remember the impact in his chest, betrayal blooming like blood from a gunshot wound.
He stared down at the sponge, dripping over the hood. He was going over and over the same spot, scrubbing at an invisible stain.
The inside phone rang, jerking at his attention.
Hank straightened from his post against the rail. “I got it.”
When Jack started this job, the one cop in a one-cop town, unanswered calls to the department were forwarded either to his cell phone or to his backup—Hank, if Hank was around, or the dispatcher in the county sheriff’s office. But there were three of them now. Jack had been talking to Nick O’Neal, head of the volunteer firefighters, about developing a coordinated emergency response, police, fire, medical. But that would demand a hell of a lot more sophisticated system than they had now.
Hank came out, his face creased in heavy lines. “That was Grady Real Estate. Somebody busted the air conditioner over at the bakery. Repairman’s saying it’s vandalism.”
Jack went still, his skin tightening.Lauren. “Everything else okay?”
“Fine. But Grady wants a police report so he can file an insurance claim.”
“Right.” Jack drew a careful breath.Don’t overreact. Vandalism was a common problem on the island, where big vacation homes sat empty half the year. “You want to take it?”
Since you’re so concerned about her ex. Jane was Hank’s daughter. It was her bakery. Nothing to do with Jack at all.
Was Lauren there?
“She won’t want me,” Hank said gruffly. “Luke’s on duty.”
“He’s on a call.” The Crowleys’ dog, barking again, disturbing the renters next door. Nothing that required much time. But maybe Luke’s absence would give Hank the excuse he needed to go.
Hank’s face set. “So he can handle it on his way back.”
