“Chief Trey Jakes requests the presence of every graduate of the class of 1980 still living in the area at City Hall day after tomorrow at noon. They will be interrogated regarding the night of their high school graduation. Anyone who doesn’t appear will be brought into the precinct for questioning at a later date. As a reminder to all, there is a ten-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the person responsible for the murders of Dick Phillips, Paul Jackson and Betsy Jakes.”
Dallas’s fingers were flying over the keyboard as she typed. Then she finished and read it back to him. When he okayed it, she printed it out and handed it to Sam.
“The paper is still in the same place,” she said.
“I saw it,” Sam said, and settled the Stetson a little more firmly on his head as he left the room.
His stride was long, his steps sure as he left the precinct and headed down the street. He could have driven the three blocks, but it felt good to be walking somewhere.
Trey had filled him in on the details of all the murders, even the condition of his mother’s body when he’d found her. He was still reeling from the knowledge and imagining his brother’s horror.
He paused at a stop sign before he crossed a street, and saw the look of recognition on a driver’s face before he honked and waved.
Sam nodded and kept on walking.
A few minutes later he entered the newspaper office and recognized the man behind the desk.
“Afternoon, Mr. Sherman. I have a notice that Chief Jakes needs you to run in tomorrow’s paper.”
Glen Sherman frowned. “We’re about ready to put the paper to bed.”
“It’s important,” Sam said. “It concerns the murders.”
Sherman’s expression shifted. “Let me see it.”
Sam handed it over and watched the changing expressions on the editor’s face.
“Tell him I’ll run it on the front page. My headline didn’t amount to shit anyway.”
“Thank you,” Sam said.
“You’re Sam Jakes, aren’t you?” Sherman asked.
Sam nodded.
“I’m real sorry about Betsy. She was a friend. I heard your sister came out of surgery okay. How’s she doing?”
“So far, so good,” Sam said. “I’ll pass the message on to my brother, and thank you for the placement. Maybe it will rattle a few memories.”
Sherman grimaced. “Most likely skeletons,” he said. “They’re always around if people care to look, and ten thousand dollars makes for a lot of incentive.”
Sam was still thinking about that comment as he walked back to the precinct. Rattling skeletons. Maybe he could rattle some nerves tomorrow while they were at it.
* * *
That evening Sam was in the lobby of Cutter’s Steakhouse waiting on Trey and Dallas to come in from the farm.
Nearly everyone who entered did a double take, recognizing him as the hometown boy who had gone away to war and never come home.
Many of them spoke. A few of them just stared and passed him by. He felt their judgment and knew it was fair. He should have come when Betsy was still alive, not waited until it was time to bury her. There was nothing he could do to change what was, except to help his brother find who killed her.
He’d just received a text from Dallas telling him they were on the way when a family walked in. The man nodded cordially but without recognition before looking at him again.
“Sam Jakes?”
Sam stood and shook the banker’s hand. “Evening, Mr. Standish.”
“It’s been a long time. Our condolences on the loss of your mother. It’s a tragedy. A true tragedy,” Standish said.
“Yes, sir.”
“And how is your sister?” Mrs. Standish asked.
Sam remembered the wife’s face but not her name, and assumed the young girl with them was their daughter. “She’s holding her own.”
“That’s wonderful news. I’ll make it a point to visit her soon.”
“Thank you for the thought, but Trey has her under guard, with a no-visitation order. I’m sure you understand.”
Gloria sputtered a bit, as if shocked that she’d been refused in any way.
“Of course we do,” Standish said. “Her survival has put the killer on notice.”
Carly Standish had been politely quiet while the adults spoke, but she hadn’t missed a thing about Sam Jakes’ appearance. She thought he was good-looking for an older guy, except for the scars she could see on the back of his neck.
Sam caught her staring, which made her flush.
“I think our table is ready,” Standish said. “Ladies...”
They had no sooner walked away than the door opened again, and Marcus and T. J. Silver walked in.
Marcus Silver was about to walk past Sam when T.J. saw him and stopped.
“Sam Jakes, right?”
Sam nodded.
“Dad. It’s Trey’s older brother.”
Marcus’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”
“No problem,” Sam said. “It’s been a while since I’ve been home.”
T.J. frowned. “I’m so sorry about what happened to your mother and sister.”
“Thank you,” Sam said.
“Yes, our sympathies are with all the family,” Marcus added.
The door opened again, and this time it was finally Trey and Dallas who arrived.
“Sorry we’re late,” Trey said, and nodded toward the Silvers. “Marcus, T.J., it appears we all had the same idea tonight.”
“Yes, it does. Enjoy your meal,” Marcus said, and then headed for the hostess desk with his son.
“Everything okay?” Sam asked.
Trey shook his head. “The digital version of the newspaper is already up, and I’ve been getting phone calls like crazy. Everyone in town wants to come to the meeting day after tomorrow,” Trey said.
“What did you tell them?” Sam asked.
“I told them unless they had specific knowledge and information to share, it was only for the members of that class.”
“Good call,” Sam said.
“Let’s go eat, guys,” Dallas said. “Tomorrow is going to be crazy, but tonight we can just be family.”
There was a knot in Sam’s throat as they were being seated. Dallas’s innocent remark about just being family had gone straight to his heart. All these years while he was living on the edge of life, they had been completely immersed in it—joys, heartaches, rejections, accomplishments. Now, thinking about what he’d lost, Lainey Pickett was at the top of the list.
As they ordered their food, talking about what they had yet to face and what they hoped to uncover during the meeting, Sam was wondering what would happen if he tried to fit back in—if he should even try to fit back in—wondering if they would resent him after the way he’d kept them all at arm’s length.
* * *
Lainey was in bed with her laptop and a beer.
After