Perfect Night (Mason Creek #4) - Terri E. Laine Page 0,5

any facts yet.

“I believe you wouldn’t have slipped out of a house full of people to come ask me for my help for no reason.”

I choked on a sob again. To have someone listen without judgment was such a relief. My friends listened, but I saw their doubt even in their solidarity with me.

He hugged me again and ushered me to the porch. “Do you want a beer?” he asked.

“Please.”

The door squeaked when he opened it to slip inside. I took a seat under the covered porch and looked out at the snowcapped mountains in the distance wondering if there was a more beautiful place on Earth. He returned and handed me a beer, taking a seat next to me.

“Why’d you come back?’ I asked.

“This,” he said, raising his beer toward the view I’d been admiring. “Growing up, I couldn’t wait to leave. Then I left. There is a lot to see and experience, but none of it was better than home.”

“Even with the gossip?” I joked.

“Even the gossip. I can’t speak for everywhere. But in cities like LA, nobody cares about anyone else. Your car breaks down. No one stops and if they do, you have to worry they have some agenda that wouldn’t be good for you. I tried to make a difference. No matter how many crimes I solved, how many criminals I put in jail, there was always another bad guy, another murder, rape, or theft to solve. I was losing my soul there.”

“Not much happens around here. Won’t you get bored?”

“Maybe. But at least I won’t feel like I’m dying a little every day.”

I thought about that. “I have no reason to stay. I stayed for Dad and now he’s gone.”

“What about the bar?”

I shrugged. “That was Dad’s dream. His slice of Mason Creek. I’m thinking about selling it.”

“Can I offer you some advice?”

“Everyone else has.”

“Don’t give it up yet. Let someone run it and give yourself time to figure things out. That’s the nice thing about Montana. It’s not the hustle and bustle of the big city. It’s slow, steady, thoughtful.”

He made some sense. “I have another reason to stay.” I sighed. “I want to prove my father was murdered.” Once again, I held my breath, afraid he’d let me down like everyone else.

“Walk me through it.”

I was grateful for his absolute trust that I wasn’t crazy. “Ever since Mom died, Dad would never leave the house without telling me.”

When I was young, I’d been home from school, sick with a fever. I’d taken a nap and it’s believed that Mom drove to the store to get a prescription for me. On the way, her car was struck by an out-of-towner speeding through a red light. I woke, feverish, calling for her. I’d been so sick; I’d passed out while trying to get to the phone to call Mom or Dad. My father found me on the floor halfway to the phone after being notified about the accident. Her car had been engulfed in flames, and no one knew if I’d been in the car or not. I didn’t have to share the details with Aiden. He would have heard. I got to the point.

“We had a fight that night. More like he and my fiancé did. I’d been so disgusted by the pair of them, I’d gone to my room. I thought about talking to Dad and smoothing things over, but I decided to wait until morning.” Guilt turned on the water works while I retold the story. “Morning came but he was gone. I remember thinking ‘was he that mad at me?’ until the sheriff came and told me.”

“Who found him?” he asked.

“His assistant manager at the bar, Jack. He went in early because a truck was coming with a delivery. He found Dad face up behind the bar. He was cold by then, and Jack called for help. The sheriff was the first to arrive at the scene right after Jack.”

“Any signs of struggle? Broken bottles? Anything missing?”

“No. Doc said there were no visible wounds beside a goose egg on the back of his head. It was assumed he had a heart attack.”

“Did you get an autopsy?”

“No. Sheriff said it wasn’t necessary given there was nothing to suggest any crime was committed. So I would have to pay, and it was expensive. I’d been a mess trying to navigate everything else, and I didn’t know what to do. I had so many things to worry about. The bar, putting a funeral