Free The Blood of Patriots by William W. Johnstone Page B

understand.
    After a few minutes he returned to the car, feeling strangely settled. But then the old John Ward returned, focused on the information he had picked up and disturbed at the way it fit with the rest of what was happening in Basalt.

C HAPTER E LEVEN
    Joanne opened the door. Disgust was apparent in every line of her face. “You’re late. Again.”
    Ward looked at his watch. “Yeah, a little. We’ll eat in the car. I’ll get her there on time.”
    â€œYou still don’t get it,” his former wife said. “You say you’ll be here, you should be here. Not ten or even five minutes later.”
    â€œIt couldn’t be helped,” he said. He saw Megan sitting in the kitchen.
    â€œShe called you—”
    â€œCrap. My phone was in the car. Look, we can stand here arguing or I can take Megan to school.”
    â€œShe’s eating right now—”
    â€œYeah, I see that.”
    â€œI’ll send her out when she’s done.”
    â€œJesus, Joanne. Let me come in and sit with her. Please.”
    Joanne thought for a moment. “We’re giving her good energy right now.”
    â€œYou’re what?”
    â€œShe’ll be out in a few minutes.” Joanne started to close the door.
    â€œWait!” Ward said, stepping partway in. “You heard what happened over at Scott Randolph’s?”
    â€œI’m an emergency veterinary volunteer with the fire department,” she said. “I received a call but I wasn’t needed.”
    â€œI was there last night after it happened,” Ward said. “I went back this morning to see if I could help find the bastards who did this. That’s why I was late.”
    â€œDid you do that for us, John, or for yourself?”
    â€œI just wanted to help,” Ward said.
    â€œHelp your daughter first,” Joanne said. “Prioritize.”
    She went to shut the door and Ward stepped back. The click sounded loud and final. He had to stop himself from slamming the frame with the heel of his hand. Good energy . What was this, freakin’ Tibet? Ward turned and kicked the air and walked back to the car and leaned against the hood with his arms tightly crossed. He felt like driving off, like running from the whole poisonous relationship. But he couldn’t leave Megan behind, however much Joanne tried to make every conflict seem like abandonment.
    Megan came out less than two minutes after her mother left. She was carrying a Green Earth backpack and eating a piece of whole wheat toast with a spread that looked like jam but was probably kelp. He smiled at her; she smiled crookedly back but quickly averted her eyes. He opened the car door for her. Joanne was not watching, as far as he could tell.
    â€œSorry I’m late,” he said.
    â€œMom explained. She said you’re trying to help Mr. Randolph.”
    â€œI want to help find the people who hurt him,” Ward told her.
    â€œAre you allowed to?” she asked as he settled into the driver’s seat.
    â€œI met the police chief last night,” he answered. “She—” He was going to say “ offered me a job ” but he didn’t want to get Megan’s hopes up. She wouldn’t understand the context.
    â€œShe what?”
    â€œWanted my professional opinion so I gave it to her,” he said.
    â€œYou man, you.” She grinned.
    He laughed. “Yeah, that’s your dad.”
    â€œDo you know the way to my school?”
    â€œHaven’t the faintest idea,” he said as he backed from the driveway.
    She smiled back and directed him through town to Basalt Middle School. She declined his offer to take the breakfast he’d bought for her lunch, saying she had her own.
    It was a quick trip and a quick good-bye. If Megan was upset with how the morning went, she hadn’t shown it much. It seemed—and he hoped he wasn’t reading anything into their brief