Crossroads. Greater odds that would happen. She’ll be fine.”
“She has to be.” Tick looked up, the dark depths of his eyes completely serious. “Because I can live without being a father, Stan, but I can’t live without her.”
Tick’s words stayed with Stanton during the drive out to Mildred Kinney’s neat brick ranch on Highway 112.
I can’t live without her .
Stanton’s first instinct was to laugh off the statement, to point out Tick had managed the first thirty-five years of his life just fine without Caitlin Falconetti. Except that in the last five months, since Falconetti had come back to him, Tick had become someone different—still the intent law enforcement officer he’d always been, but somehow the constant simmering energy he’d always carried seemed more focused now.
Marrying Renee had not done that for Stanton. Neither had fourteen years of marriage.
Those few short months with Autry had, and it scared the hell out of him. He was starting to get an inkling of what Tick had meant— I can’t live without her. Tick could survive without Falconetti in his life, but it wasn’t really living. Stanton’s stomach squeezed. Is that what he’d been doing? Merely surviving without Autry?
He rubbed a hand over his face as Tick stopped the unmarked unit behind a run-down pickup. The rusted robin’s-egg blue Chevy leaned forlornly to one side, a sharp contrast to Mrs. Kinney’s manicured lawn and late-model Ford sedan.
“I think I went to high school with this guy.” Tick pushed the door open. “He’d have been a few years behind me, though.”
Unfolding from the car, Stanton glanced at the printout. “He was one of Autry’s first cases.”
“ The first.” Tick fell into step beside him on the concrete walkway lined by neatly squared-off boxwoods. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile. “Mrs. Kinney is in Mama’s Sunday School class. She had Mrs. Kinney on her prayer list for months and I got a complete rundown of everything. He robbed the Tank and Tummy at gunpoint. The gun wasn’t even loaded.”
Stanton chuckled. “He’s lucky Jeanette didn’t take it and beat him to death with it.”
The pathway rounded the house’s corner. A neat backyard stretched to the pecan grove butting the property. A slight man, random streaks of silver glinting in his black hair, knelt at the patio edge and tinkered with a weed trimmer.
Stanton and Tick stopped at the path’s end. Stanton cleared his throat. “Mr. Kinney?”
“Yeah?” Kinney glanced up, his eyes a dull blue in the bright sunlight. Surprised, Stanton realized he was far younger than he first appeared—late twenties, maybe thirty—but his face, even his body, seemed prematurely aged. Five years in prison would do that.
“I’m Sheriff Reed, this is Investigator Calvert—”
“I know who you are.” Kinney wiped his hands on a greasy rag and pushed to his feet. “What do you want?”
“We need to ask you a few questions.”
Kinney’s chin lifted to a defiant angle. “About?”
“Where were you the night before last?”
“Here.” Anger flashed in his eyes. “And yeah, my mother can verify that.”
“Talk to us about Autry Holton,” Tick said.
Kinney frowned. “What about her?”
“She was your defense attorney, right? You went to prison for five years. A lot of guys would be pissed.”
“Because I paid the price for what I did?” Kinney straightened, thin shoulders tight under his shirt. “I made the decision to rob that store and I deserved what punishment I got. Probably deserved more, but Ms. Holton got me the minimum. She did right by me and I don’t hold any grudge against her.”
“That was successful.” A cynical grin twisted Tick’s mouth. He swung the patrol car into a left on Old Lonesome Road. “Did you believe his whole ‘I don’t hold any grudge against her’ bit?”
“Hard to say.” Stanton turned his attention to the scenery outside—peanut fields, tall pines,
“She has to be.” Tick looked up, the dark depths of his eyes completely serious. “Because I can live without being a father, Stan, but I can’t live without her.”
Tick’s words stayed with Stanton during the drive out to Mildred Kinney’s neat brick ranch on Highway 112.
I can’t live without her .
Stanton’s first instinct was to laugh off the statement, to point out Tick had managed the first thirty-five years of his life just fine without Caitlin Falconetti. Except that in the last five months, since Falconetti had come back to him, Tick had become someone different—still the intent law enforcement officer he’d always been, but somehow the constant simmering energy he’d always carried seemed more focused now.
Marrying Renee had not done that for Stanton. Neither had fourteen years of marriage.
Those few short months with Autry had, and it scared the hell out of him. He was starting to get an inkling of what Tick had meant— I can’t live without her. Tick could survive without Falconetti in his life, but it wasn’t really living. Stanton’s stomach squeezed. Is that what he’d been doing? Merely surviving without Autry?
He rubbed a hand over his face as Tick stopped the unmarked unit behind a run-down pickup. The rusted robin’s-egg blue Chevy leaned forlornly to one side, a sharp contrast to Mrs. Kinney’s manicured lawn and late-model Ford sedan.
“I think I went to high school with this guy.” Tick pushed the door open. “He’d have been a few years behind me, though.”
Unfolding from the car, Stanton glanced at the printout. “He was one of Autry’s first cases.”
“ The first.” Tick fell into step beside him on the concrete walkway lined by neatly squared-off boxwoods. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile. “Mrs. Kinney is in Mama’s Sunday School class. She had Mrs. Kinney on her prayer list for months and I got a complete rundown of everything. He robbed the Tank and Tummy at gunpoint. The gun wasn’t even loaded.”
Stanton chuckled. “He’s lucky Jeanette didn’t take it and beat him to death with it.”
The pathway rounded the house’s corner. A neat backyard stretched to the pecan grove butting the property. A slight man, random streaks of silver glinting in his black hair, knelt at the patio edge and tinkered with a weed trimmer.
Stanton and Tick stopped at the path’s end. Stanton cleared his throat. “Mr. Kinney?”
“Yeah?” Kinney glanced up, his eyes a dull blue in the bright sunlight. Surprised, Stanton realized he was far younger than he first appeared—late twenties, maybe thirty—but his face, even his body, seemed prematurely aged. Five years in prison would do that.
“I’m Sheriff Reed, this is Investigator Calvert—”
“I know who you are.” Kinney wiped his hands on a greasy rag and pushed to his feet. “What do you want?”
“We need to ask you a few questions.”
Kinney’s chin lifted to a defiant angle. “About?”
“Where were you the night before last?”
“Here.” Anger flashed in his eyes. “And yeah, my mother can verify that.”
“Talk to us about Autry Holton,” Tick said.
Kinney frowned. “What about her?”
“She was your defense attorney, right? You went to prison for five years. A lot of guys would be pissed.”
“Because I paid the price for what I did?” Kinney straightened, thin shoulders tight under his shirt. “I made the decision to rob that store and I deserved what punishment I got. Probably deserved more, but Ms. Holton got me the minimum. She did right by me and I don’t hold any grudge against her.”
“That was successful.” A cynical grin twisted Tick’s mouth. He swung the patrol car into a left on Old Lonesome Road. “Did you believe his whole ‘I don’t hold any grudge against her’ bit?”
“Hard to say.” Stanton turned his attention to the scenery outside—peanut fields, tall pines,
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