Dark Debts by Karen Hall Page B

that hadn’t been updated in decades. The lawn in front of the courthouse was dotted with silver historical markers and a large statue in honor of the Confederate war dead. She’d been gone long enough to find it all quaint.
    She spotted a small coffee shop, always the best place to go for information in a small town. A sign painted on the window read TILLIE’S GOOD FOOD COFFEE SHOP . Randa left her car unlocked and headed inside. Tillie was not doing a booming business. A few customers, mostly elderly ladies, were beating the dinner rush. As Randa passed them, they stared hard at her, their eyes squinting with the intense mistrust of strangers only rural Southerners can muster. Randa ignored them and made her way to the counter, where a pudgy waitress greeted her with a forced smile.
    â€œDo you need a menu?”
    â€œNo. Actually, I’m trying to find someone. I wondered if you could help me.”
    â€œI’ll try. Who is it?”
    â€œA man named Jack Landry. He grew up here and moved away. He’s in his late forties, probably blond . . .”
    â€œYeah, I know who he is.”
    Randa stopped, a bit surprised. “You do?”
    â€œHe eats here sometimes.” She lowered her voice. “Is he in some kinda trouble?” Her tone was not one of concern.
    â€œNo, no. Nothing like that.” Randa tried to hide her amazement. “Does he live around here?”
    â€œI think he lives in that boardinghouse out on Thirty-Six. That’s what I heard.”
    Randa was too stunned to know what to say. If Jack still lived here, why hadn’t Cam been able to find him? Had Cam lied about it? Why would he do that?
    â€œThe road that goes past the courthouse is Thirty-Six. Go east, it’s about half a mile.”
    Randa thanked the girl, who had already gone back to filling the napkin dispensers. As she turned and headed for the door, the early diners seemed to be glaring even harder. Evidently they’d overheard. Evidently the Landry reputation had not diminished with time.
    The boardinghouse was a run-down Victorian, sitting by itself out on one of the two-lane highways that ran into town. The place had obviously been a nice house at one time. Now it was badly in need of a paint job and a new roof. Randa parked her car on the side of the road. The wind had begun to pick up and the thunder was sounding closer.
    She took a moment to breathe deeply, bracing herself. She hadn’t expected to have to face him so soon. She wondered what he would look like. She’d only seen photos of him as a child. She’d been intrigued by him since the first time she and Cam had gone through the family albums. Jack stood out because he was cutting up in every photo—sticking his tongue out, rolling his eyes, making devil horns behind someone’s back. Looking at the photos, anyone would have picked Jack as the one who would wind up where Tallen had. Randa had made that observation aloud once, but Cam had disagreed. “That’s just it. Jack got it all out of his system.”
    Randa took another look at the dilapidated boardinghouse and told herself that Jack must have gotten a lot of things out of his system. She picked up the shopping bag containing the scrapbooks and headed for the front porch.
    There was an elderly woman sitting on the porch swing. She eyed Randa suspiciously as Randa made her way to the front door and knocked.
    â€œHe ain’t in.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œMr. Overby. He works during the day, at some bank over in Griffin. His wife is usually here, but she had to go to the store. I don’t think there’s any rooms available anyway, except that attic room, and nobody in their right mind wants that thing.”
    â€œWell, I wasn’t looking for a room, actually, I was looking for a boarder.”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œSomeone who lives here.”
    â€œI live here.”
    â€œNo, I mean . . . I was