Free Unfinished Business by Jenna Bennett

himself—by giving me an awkward hug. I
hugged him back, my stomach—round and hard—between us. When he
stepped back, there were tears in my eyes, and I think they may
have been in his, too.
    He turned away without a word, bodyguard on
his heels. If Rafe showed up and tried to abduct David by
force—something he’d never, ever do—he might have a hard time
getting through the refrigerator.
    “Thank you,” Dix told the camp counselor,
while I was still clearing my throat. “We appreciate it.”
    She nodded. “Is he in danger?”
    “I don’t imagine so,” Dix said easily.
“We’re not concerned about David’s safety at this time. We’re
trying to track down his father, and thought David might know
something. That’s all. But I’m sure you always take
precautions.”
    She sniffed, offended at the suggestion that
they might not. “Of course.”
    “Will you call me if someone else shows up
asking for David?”
    The counselor said she would, obviously
taken in by Dix’s professional demeanor and business card, and on
that note, we took our leave.

Chapter Six
    “So that’s Rafael’s child,” Mother said when we were back in the
car and bumping our way along the rutted dirt track from the camp
up to the main road.
    From her tone of voice—flat—it was
impossible to guess what was behind the question. She had to be
thinking something, but I was damned—darned—if I knew what it
was.
    So I did the only thing I could do, and told
the truth. “Yes. That’s David. Rafe’s son.”
    “And Elspeth Caulfield’s,” Dix added.
    Mother glanced at him. “The woman who died
last fall.”
    “After shooting Marquita and Yvonne McCoy
and trying to kill me,” I said. “Yes.”
    Mother was silent for a few seconds. “Your
child will look like that,” she said.
    Again, there was no clue in her tone to what
she was thinking, so I didn’t know whether to bristle or not. I
wanted to bristle—because I assumed she was being critical—but I
forced myself to sound calm. “I’m sure he will. Or she. Whenever we
find out the gender.”
    Mother didn’t say anything.
    “For what it’s worth,” I added, “I think
David’s quite a handsome boy. He looks a lot like Rafe did at that
age.” Or so I assumed. I hadn’t had much to do with him until I
started high school at fourteen. And he was seventeen by then. But
David looks a lot like I imagine Rafe did when he was a boy. “Only
better fed with nicer clothes and fewer bruises.”
    Mother chose not to respond to that one. “He
seems like a nice boy,” she said instead, primly.
    “As far as I know he is. His parents are
nice people, who love him a lot. They live in a big house in West
Meade, and he goes to private school. And obviously he goes to
church, if he’s spending part of the summer at a church camp.”
    Mother nodded.
    “From everything I’ve seen, he’s a great
kid. I hope mine turns out as well.”
    Mother might have said something to that—I’m
not sure—but that’s when the phone rang. We’d just reached the main
road, and Dix turned the nose of the car back toward Nashville. I
fished the phone out of my bag and put it to my ear. “Hello?”
    “Ms.... Savannah,” Tamara Grimaldi said.
    “Detective.” My heart started beating
faster. It couldn’t be good news. If she’d found him, that’d be the
first words out of her mouth.
    “I hooked up with Spicer and Truman when
they came back to town. We’ve been driving around.”
    “OK,” I said.
    “We stopped by Gabe’s Bar, to take a look
around, once they opened.”
    “OK.”
    “Have you ever been here?”
    I hadn’t. Rafe is willing to expand my
horizons to a certain degree, but not to that one. “I know where it
is. And what it looks like.” A dive up on Trinity Lane, near the
interstate.
    “There’s an old shed at the back of the
parking lot. They keep drums of cooking oil and grease in it.”
    “I’ve seen it,” I said. “Driving by.” A
small structure even more