Hidden Motive by Hannah Alexander Page A

money.”
    â€œI know you have personal grievances against him,” she said. “I’ve just never known why.”
    Craig looked at her for a moment in the dim light, then sighed and stepped over to the dormer window. He stood looking outside for a long moment. Sable had almost concluded the conversation had ended when he turned around.
    â€œDad’s running for state senator, you know.”
    â€œWhat does he have to do with Otis Boswell?”
    Craig shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and turned to stare out the window again. “Dad’s a good man.”
    She softened her voice. “I know he is. He’s always been a good neighbor, and he’ll be a great senator.”
    Craig hesitated again. “How…how loyal are you to Otis Boswell?”
    â€œI’m not.”
    â€œAre you going back to Oklahoma?”
    She relented slightly. “No, Craig. I want to come back here to live. With Grandpa gone, there’s nothing for me in Freemont.” Except arrest, maybe.
    Craig looked toward the stairs, then leaned closer to her. “We’ve been friends a long time, right?” There was a vulnerability in his deep voice that touched her.
    â€œOf course.”
    He paused and took a breath. “Remember when Jimmy Ray and I were in the car accident that killed Tom Hall?”
    â€œHow could I forget something like that? You were a senior in high school. I was in my first year at Columbia.”
    He grimaced, looking at the floor. “My blood alcohol was one point five.”
    â€œYou were drunk? ”
    â€œYes, but Tom swerved into my lane—all the way over. I didn’t want to hit him head-on, and I couldn’t pull off the road because it was on the bridge at Eagle Rock, remember?”
    â€œSo you traded lanes with him. I know all this. But, Craig, you were drunk?”
    â€œHe swerved back at the last second. That’s really what happened, Sable. It wasn’t my fault, but that didn’t matter. All the authorities focused on was the alcohol. I was eighteen. I could have been tried as an adult for manslaughter.”
    That would have been tragic. She knew it. Craig hadn’t been a bad kid, just restless at times.
    â€œDad was a judge then,” Craig said. “He pulled a lot of strings with his friends to keep me out of big trouble.”
    â€œSo you’re saying your father used his political influence to prevent you from being prosecuted?” She heard judgment in her words and voice, felt the hard knot that tightened in her stomach.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said. “You can’t imagine how sorry. I shouldn’t have been drinking, I know that. I’ll live with it the rest of my life, and believe me, it isn’t easy. But I do remember the circumstances of the wreck, and I didn’t cause it. You have to understand why Dad did what he did.”
    â€œI understand he didn’t trust the judicial system he’d sworn to uphold.” She hated the harshness in her voice. Hated that she was taking her pent-up bitterness out on Craig because of everything else that was happening.
    â€œHe didn’t want his son to go to prison.”
    â€œSo that makes it right?” Stop, Sable! Stop it.
    â€œDad doesn’t make a habit of it. If I’d been caught joyriding in a stolen car, or shoplifting, or driving under the influence, he’d have let me take my knocks, but this was different. You can see that, can’t you?”
    If it had happened to one of her brothers, no one would have pulled any strings for either of them. But she knew Craig was living with a lot of regret.
    â€œDad stuck his neck out,” Craig said. “He laid his whole career on the line for me. He almost lost it, thanks to Otis Boswell.”
    â€œWhat happened?” She resigned herself to hear the dirty details.
    â€œJimmy Ray’s father couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He went fishing