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the screen.
    Eyes narrowed, he listened to every word of the report. When it ended he found a third station running the story. And a fourth.
    He flipped channel after channel until he saw no more. He punched off the TV.
    The rage simmered in his stomach, building to a full boil. He shoved off the bed and strode around the small room, fingers pressed to his temples.
    What had Jerry done? Now there’d be more cops than ever around Rayne and Shaley O’Connor.
    That afternoon he’d walked out of jail to the inheritance left by his grandmother. The sale of her small Phoenix home had netted Franklin a profit around $50,000. He’d only withdrawn a few hundred to stay in this cheap place for one night. He had plans for the rest of the money.
    After the bank he’d gone to the DMV to renew his expired driver’s license.
    He flung himself on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He’d waited years to get to Rayne and Shaley O’Connor. Now, thanks to Jerry, it would be harder than ever. But he’d do it.
    Denver. That’s where he’d be headed tomorrow. St. Joseph’s Hospital in Denver.

9
    I stared at Mom, my brain going numb. She’d heard my conversation with Brittany? My throat convulsed. “Mom—”
    â€œIt’s okay. I had to know.”
    I pushed to my feet and crossed to her side. “But—”
    â€œYou really expected to deal with this alone, Shaley?”
    â€œNo. But I just … I would have told you later.”
    â€œThe detective asked you what Jerry had whispered to you just before he died. You told him, ‘Nothing important.’ ”
    â€œI couldn’t say the real words then.” I slipped a hand over my eyes. How to explain what I’d felt at that moment? For years I’d begged for answers about my dad, and there I was, supposed to blurt out terrible words about him to some detective I’d never seen before in my life? “I knew it would upset you and … I don’t know, the words just balled up inside me. I couldn’t talk about it then.”
    Mom’s eyes clouded. I bit my lip, wishing she’d say something— anything . If she hadn’t been doped up on pain medication, she wouldn’t be taking this so quietly. “So … do you think Jerry was telling the truth?” I asked.
    Mom stared beyond me, brow knitting, as if she peered into a bitter past. “Why would he say something like that if he didn’t know your father?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œA person’s last words are important. With his last dying breath, he chose to say that to you.”
    I ran a finger along the bed cover, feeling its fine ridges. Mom was saying what my gut had been telling me. I couldn’t even figure how I felt about that. Part of me wanted Jerry’s words to be a lie. How could I cling to the hope of any goodness in my father if he’d sent Jerry to our tour? But if it was true, at least my father was out there somewhere, and he knew I was his daughter. Mom had always claimed he didn’t. Maybe there was a good explanation for what he’d done. Maybe he didn’t know Jerry was so messed up in the head …
    Mom’s eyes slipped shut.
    I touched her shoulder. “Are you in pain?”
    â€œNot as long as I don’t move.” She tried to smile. She focused on me, her eyes glazed. “Tomorrow you have to call the detective who interviewed you after Jerry was shot and tell him this.”
    Detective Myner, the short, gray-haired man with the hard-worn face. Could that really have been just eight hours ago?
    My vision blurred. “You always told me my dad doesn’t know about me.”
    â€œI … didn’t think he did.”
    â€œDo you think he’d want to hurt us?”
    All these years of begging her to tell me about my father. Had she kept quiet because she knew he hated her? That he was nothing but a lowdown, murderous