My Sister's Grave (Tracy Crosswhite, #1)(23)

“Too many to count. Every day of the summer.”

“I remember the day you got the flat tire.”

“We were going to the mountains to put up that rope swing,” he said. “Sarah bought me the tube and helped me fix the tire.”

“I remember, she used her own money,” Tracy said. She turned from the window. “I’m surprised you came back here to live.”

“So was I.”

“You said it was a long story.”

“Long. Not interesting. Coffee?”

“No thanks. I’m trying to cut back.”

“I thought coffee was a prerequisite for being a cop.”

“That’s donuts. What do lawyers eat?”

“Each other.”

They sat at the round table beneath the window. A law book wedged in the sash held up the lower pane, allowing fresh air into the office.

“It’s good to see you, Tracy. You look great, by the way.”

“I think you better get some new contacts. I look like hell, but thanks for being kind.” His comment made her even more self-conscious about her appearance. Not having intended to stay another night, she hadn’t brought much to wear. Before leaving Seattle, she’d thrown jeans, boots, a blouse, and her corduroy jacket into her car to change into after Sarah’s service. She’d slipped the same clothes on in the morning. Before leaving her motel room, she had stood at the mirror contemplating pulling her hair into a ponytail but decided it only accentuated her crow’s-feet. She had left her hair down. “So, why did you come back?” she asked.

“Oh, it was a combination of things. I’d burned out practicing at a big law firm in Boston. Every day just became a grind, you know? And I’d made enough money and thought I wanted to try something different. Seemed my wife had the same idea; she was trying a different man.”

Tracy grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so was I.” Dan shrugged. “When I suggested I was going to quit law, she suggested we quit each other. She’d been sleeping with one of my partners for more than a year. She’d grown accustomed to the country club lifestyle and was afraid of losing it.”

Dan was either over the pain or hid it well. Tracy knew that some pain never fully resolved. You just suppressed it beneath a fa?ade of normalcy. “How long were you married?”

“Twelve years.”

“Do you have kids?”

“No.”

She sat back. “So why Cedar Grove? Why not someplace . . . I don’t know.”

He gave her a resigned smile. “I thought about moving to San Francisco and looked into Seattle. Then Dad died and Mom got sick, and someone needed to take care of her. So I came home figuring it a temporary situation. After a month, I decided I’d die of boredom if I didn’t do something so I hung out a shingle. I do mostly wills, estate planning, a few DUIs, anything that walks in the door that is boring and can pay a $1500 retainer.”

“And your mom?”

“She died a little over six months ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I miss her, but we had time to get to know one another in a way we never had before. I’m grateful for that.”

“I envy you.”

His brow furrowed. “Why would you say that?”

“My mom and I never really had much of a relationship after Sarah disappeared, and then after my father . . .” She let it drift and Dan didn’t press her, which made her wonder how much he knew.

“That must have been a terrible time for you.”

“Yeah, it was,” she said. “It was awful.”

“I hope yesterday brought some closure.”

“Some,” she said.

Dan stood. “You sure I can’t get you any coffee?”

She suppressed a smile, seeing him again as the young boy who didn’t like heavy conversations and would quickly change the subject. “Really, I’m fine. So tell me what type of law did you practice?”

Dan sat again and folded his hands in his lap. “I started out doing antitrust work and realized it is truly possible to die of boredom. Then a partner brought me in on a white-collar criminal-defense case, and I found that I really liked it. And, if I say so myself, I was pretty good in court.” He still had a boyish grin.

“I’ll bet juries loved you.”

“Love’s a strong word,” he said. “Worshipped, maybe.” He laughed and she heard the boy in that too. “I defended the CEO of a big corporation, and when I got a defense verdict, every attorney in my firm who had a client who’d gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar or a relative who’d drunk too much at the company Christmas party came to me. That evolved into larger white-collar criminal-defense cases, and before I knew it, I’d developed a good practice.” He tilted his head, as if studying her. “Okay, your turn. Homicide detective? Wow. What happened to teaching?”

She waved him off. “You don’t want to hear about that.”

“Hey, come on, now. What about that good for the goose thing? Wasn’t your dream to become a teacher at Cedar Grove High and raise your kids here?”

“Don’t make fun.”

He scoffed. “Hey, I live here now. And that’s what you always said, you were going to teach, and you and Sarah were going to live next door to each other.”