Free Family Ties (Flesh & Blood Trilogy Book 2) by Christina Morgan

as guilty as they come. His confession was just icing on the cake. If you’re looking for some cause to champion, choose another one. Your father is a lost cause. He’s in prison where he belongs. Now, if you don’t mind…”
    Realizing I would get nothing more out of the retired detective, I nodded my head politely and excused myself from the building.
    On the way home, I called Harper and asked her to find the witness statement, see if she could track him or her down, and reach out to them to see if they were willing to speak to me. Something was starting to feel all wrong. In my cursory review of the attorney’s file and my all-too-brief conversation with the investigating detective, one thing was becoming alarmingly clear. My father’s spontaneous confession was likely the only reason he was behind bars.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 7
     
     
    Harper tracked down the witness, one Alma Jean Glover, and talked her into speaking with me. Harper texted me the address for a restaurant in Dry Ridge, about fifty miles south of Lexington off I-75. It took me all of an hour to get to Beans Café & Bakery on Broadway Street, thanks to construction in the southbound lanes. I had never been to Dry Ridge, let alone Beans, but I was glad Harper had picked this place to meet Ms. Glover. As soon as I entered, the delicious smell of freshly-baked pastries and donuts enveloped me. Almost as good as a Yankee Candle store.
    I sat down at a table near the entrance, told the hostess I was waiting for someone, and asked her to bring me a coffee with creamer and sugar. She returned after just a few minutes with a white ceramic cup filled with piping hot coffee, just as I’d ordered it.
    I didn’t have to wait long. I had no idea what Mrs. Glover looked like, but somehow, I knew her the instant she walked in. She was a squat, round woman with thick-rimmed glasses, which rested on pudgy cheeks. She waddled through the door, huffing and puffing as if every step was a journey. I knew it was her by the way she looked around the small restaurant. When her squinty eyes landed on me, she smiled and waved tentatively. I wiggled my fingers at her and then motioned for her to join me.
    She ambled over to the table. “You must be Libby.”
    I stood and extended my hand. “Yes, ma’am. And you must be Mrs. Glover.”
    She swatted my words out of the air with a pudgy hand. “Pffft. Call me Alma. No need for formalities.”
    I gestured toward the empty chair across from me. “Please, have a seat.”
    She slung her large black purse over the back of the chair and then plopped down in the seat.
    “Would you care for some coffee?” I asked politely.
    “I’d love some, thank you.”
    I waved at the waitress, who hurried over to our table and asked if she could get us something else.
    “Coffee,” said Alma. “Black, please.”
    The waitress nodded and left us alone at the table.
    “So, your assistant said you wanted to speak with me about Randall Terrance McLanahan.”
    “Yes,” I said. “He’s my father.”
    Alma’s eyes went wide as pancakes. “Oh, I see. Well, what can I possibly do for you, Libby?”
    “Well, you see, I’m just curious about what you saw that night at the truck stop. Do you mind talking to me about that?”
    “No, but I hardly see how this is going to help you, Libby. I’m sorry to say this, but your father is a monster. Now, that’s no reflection on you and I don’t hold the sins of the father against the child. Who would? But what exactly do you want from me?”
    “I’m just trying to make sense of it all,” I said, hanging my head a little lower.
    “It’s been twenty years,” Alma said matter-of-factly. “Why now?”
    I had to think fast. I couldn’t tell this woman my father had hired me to prove his innocence. She would likely not help me then. “I just need closure.”
    “Ah,” she said, leaning back in her chair and resting her hands on top of her big belly. “That I understand. So