you do. I’m not sure I can trust you.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“Then perhaps we should try to find a way to close the gap in trust.”
I didn’t have an answer to that, so I didn’t offer one.
With a sigh, she got to her feet. “Well, perhaps another time.”
She smiled at me with a knowing look. “Men think they rule the world, but they have no idea what women orchestrate behind the scenes. I find I’m tired of staying in the background and quietly maneuvering events to go my way. I think it’s time things changed.”
She walked up to me and looked me in the eyes. “Are you tired of your father controlling your life? Don’t you want to be free?”
I gasped. It wasn’t surprising she knew who I was—she’d made that quite clear on our last meeting, but last time she hadn’t been so open about it.
“In case I’ve been too subtle, Caroline, I know who you are. I know your father has offered a reward for your safe return. And I know you’re hiding from him. I just can’t figure out why, and neither can Bart.” Her brow lifted. “It’s driving him crazy, you know. I can see a time when he’ll want to know more, but for now, his attention is focused much closer to home. It’s on Louise Baker, to be precise. Use that to your advantage.”
She took a few steps toward the door before stopping and glancing over her shoulder. “Oh, and let me know what you want to do with Jerry’s clothes.”
With that, she opened the door and walked out.
For a moment I just stared at the door, half expecting her to come back and laugh at me or throw more truth bombs at me or . . . God only knew.
Then I sat down in a chair, trying to process what had just happened.
She’d brought Jerry’s things.
I walked over to the box and lifted the lid, tears filling my eyes when I saw the contents. There were a couple of framed photos. An old photo of a little girl with blond hair who looked like a preschooler. Then another of the same girl with a man and woman. The man was young—in his early twenties—but I still recognized Jerry. He’d had a daughter? He’d never mentioned her, and given that I was apparently his closest living contact, I suspected she had passed.
Underneath the photos were newspaper clippings of the shootout with Carson Purdy and Seth’s murder. Even Barb’s death and the shooting of her boyfriend. Jerry had seen a deputy sheriff murder Barb’s boyfriend and had kept it quiet for over a year, terrified what would happen to him if he told anyone what he saw. I knew he felt responsible for the deputy going free. It seemed odd that Emily had included them instead of seeing them as trash.
There were other papers, but I was running seriously late now and decided I could look at them later.
It was depressing to think that Jerry’s life had fit into a small cardboard box. A fresh batch of tears appeared and streamed down my face. A good man had died because of my snooping. Why was I still putting people at risk?
Because letting Bart get away with it didn’t feel right either. The man had to be stopped. But at what cost?
I left the box on the coffee table and headed downstairs. I’d been late before, but now I was seriously late for my regular meeting with the two middle school students who always came in half an hour before the official meeting. Since we’d missed most of our time together, I promised to give them more time after the younger kids arrived at three thirty.
Max gave me a questioning look from the bar, but I smiled, mouthing, It’s okay. He didn’t look like he believed me.
The little kids were wound up, not that I was surprised since it was summer vacation. The mothers kept glancing at me and talking in undertones that suggested they were discussing me and Wyatt. Probably because my shirtsleeves ended above my elbow, making my bruises visible to anyone looking for them. I was too busy thinking about Emily’s visit to care.
When the last kid left, Ruth held out a black T-shirt with the old Max’s Tavern logo.
“What happened to the new ones?” I asked as I took it, taking a peek at Max, who was behind the bar reading a book.
“Max and I reached a comprise. He’ll