River Bodies (Northampton County #1)(45)

The guys raised their shot glasses to him, then tossed the whiskey back.

Hap lowered his voice. “The shipment went off without a hitch. It was the easiest transaction we’ve had in months, now that our little problem was removed, thanks to you.” He laid a stack of bills two inches thick on the table. He put John’s hand on top of the pile. “You earned it.” He slapped him on the shoulder and made his way back to the guys at the other end of the bar, joining them in another round.

John squeezed the wad of bills in his hand. He thought he might be sick.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The sparse patches of hair that had stuck up on Becca’s father’s head had fallen out. Pieces lay on the pillow. A few strands sprinkled the tops of his shoulders. His eyebrows, once dark and fierce, were thin and gray. The five-o’clock shadow, the scruff that most women had found attractive, according to her mother, had vanished completely. His skin was dry and blotchy and paper-thin. The crevices around his mouth and eyes made him appear to be a much older man of seventy or eighty rather than a man of sixty.

His hand, bent and misshapen, resting at his side, twitched. His fingers and wrist were nothing but bone. When she’d been a little girl, she’d feared his hands, big and strong, gripping her upper arms, scolding her for sneaking into the basement and playing with his fishing lures, fearing she could’ve been injured by their sharp hooks.

“Dad,” she said.

He opened his eyes for a second and closed them again.

The phone rang. She thought about answering it, but after two rings it stopped. Jackie must’ve picked it up, not wanting to disturb them.

“Dad,” she whispered. “I need to talk with you.”

He turned his head away. Jackie opened the door.

“Becca,” she said. “You have a phone call.”

The last person to call her here had been Parker. “I’ll be back,” she said to her father and rose from the chair to take the call on the kitchen phone, thinking maybe Parker could answer some of her questions. But she would have to be careful not to say too much to him, not to appear too interested. She wasn’t ready to divulge what she had seen by the river, not until she was sure she understood it herself.



“God, it’s good to hear your voice,” Matt said.

Becca was surprised to find Matt on the other end of the line. She plopped onto one of the kitchen chairs and dropped her head in her hand. She’d been hoping to speak with Parker, and not just because she wanted to ask Parker questions about his case, but because she just wanted it to be Parker.

“Why are you calling me on this number? Why didn’t you call my cell phone?” she asked, not meaning to sound surly. Romy trotted into the kitchen, pushed her nose against Becca’s leg. She reached down to pet her. Romy lay on the floor at Becca’s feet.

“I was afraid if I called your cell phone you wouldn’t have answered it.” He continued before she could reply. “Look, whatever you think I’m guilty of, you’re wrong. But whatever it is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry a thousand times. Please give me a chance to explain, to make it right. Please, come home.”

Becca covered her eyes. It was much more complicated than her simply going back to New Jersey and picking up her life where she’d left off. She’d seen John by the river. She was involved in something here. But how could she explain it to Matt when she wasn’t sure she understood it herself?

“I have to stay with my dad. I have to see this through,” she said and realized she meant it.

“Okay,” Matt said. “I get it. You need to be there with him.” His voice was soft, soothing. “Maybe I could come to you. I want to support you. I want to help you through this.”

A part of her wanted to say yes, come. She could use his strong arms around her. But in the end, his presence was just too big, his personality too consuming. He’d suck all the air out of the room with his smile, usurping all the oxygen, claiming whatever space she had left to breathe for himself. She’d wither under the weight of his beautiful eyes. She understood these things about him, these things she loved and hated equally.

“I need some time,” she said. “But I promise to call you and keep you updated on how things are going here. Because you’re right, we need to talk. And we will. Just let me get through this with him.”

“But you’re coming home, right? When this is over?”

“I’ll call you.” This was the longest she’d kept her distance from him, kept herself closed off from his pleas of forgiveness.

There was desperation in his voice she hadn’t heard before when he said, “I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“I’ll be in touch.” Becca hung up the phone. She turned and jumped, surprised at finding Jackie standing behind her. Romy had gotten to her feet, nudged Jackie’s hand until she petted her.

“Everything okay?” Jackie asked.

“Everything’s fine,” she said. “How’s Dad? Is he awake?”

“He’s knocked out. I’m betting he’ll sleep for a few hours.”

Becca nodded.

“It’s good he’s sleeping, you know,” Jackie said. “He’s resting, and that’s more than he’s been able to do in a very long time. The treatments.” She paused. “The chemo was killing him. He couldn’t sleep. He was sick all of the time. His feet and hands were covered in an itchy, painful rash. His mouth was full of blisters. He couldn’t eat or swallow.”