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born Sara Garrett. Her parents were Lee and Alice Garrett.”
    “Wait.” Jacko pinched the bridge of his nose. “She was married? Jackman was her married name ?” He’d had no idea she’d been married. She never talked about it at all. Of course she rarely talked to him about anything, particularly those last years when her brain had gone up in smoke. “This Jackman—was he…was he my father?”
    Was it going to be this easy?
    Felicity looked at him. “You didn’t know she was married?”
    “Hell no. My mom could barely lurch from day to day there at the end and I was in and out of foster homes. She never spoke about her past. Like I said, I have no idea who her parents were. They can’t have been good parents if she was such a mess.”
    “When were you born, Jacko, and where?” Felicity was frowning at the screen, waiting.
    “I was born March 6, 1980, in Cross, Texas.” The most miserable hole in the state. If Texas ever needed an enema, Cross is where they’d give it.
    She was silent for a couple of minutes as she worked furiously, then sat back. One last command and she pulled up data on her screen.
    “Sara Garrett married Robert Jackman in 1977, and he died in 1978, so no, he couldn’t have been your father. She never divorced and kept the name.” Felicity looked at him soberly. “Jacko…your grandfather died very recently. Six months ago, actually.”
    Whoa. He’d had a grandfather alive all this time? “Jesus.”
    “His wife, your grandmother, died fifteen years earlier. From what I can see, your grandfather was a respected member of the community. Certainly no legal issues. Grandmother, too. Your mom, on the other hand…” she hesitated.
    “Was in and out of jail,” Jacko said bleakly. “For possession and solicitation. In and out of rehab. I know. I was taken away from her a bunch of times and put in foster homes. She’d do a little time, get out on good behavior, get me back, start collecting child support checks and go right back to chasing the next high. I learned long ago there was no saving her. I guess I always thought she came from bad genes herself.”
    “Not necessarily.” Felicity frowned at the screen. “It’s hard to tell. Official data won’t give info on private behavior. Your grandfather might have been abusive, who knows? Yet he seemed to be well respected. He was given a few civic awards. Hmm. He must have had some money, too. There were a series of park benches donated in his wife’s name the year after she died. He had a huge ranch, though land lots have been sold off the last fifteen years.” She met Jacko’s eyes. “He died leaving everything to his daughter, ‘whereabouts unknown.’ Jacko, you’re her only heir, that ranch is yours.”
    She turned the screen around so he could see the address and phone numbers of a law firm. She pressed a key and a secure printer started whirring. “That’s the law office that handled Lee Garrett’s affairs, I’m printing the info now.”
    Jacko pulled the sheets and clutched them in his hand. He had an excellent memory and normally he wouldn’t need to keep the written info, but he was still reeling from the fact that he’d had a grandfather all along and hadn’t known it.
    He scanned the printouts but they were a blur. He couldn’t seem to take in any of the info. He leaned in. “Do—do you have images for him?”
    “Yeah.” She did that finger-blurring thing again, then sat back. The monitor showed a carousel of photographs and Jacko stared. They were mainly informal snapshots, some formal portraits, some cuttings from newspapers. Lee Garrett smiling into the lens, growing more unsmiling as he aged. Being handed some kind of award. With a hunting rifle, in hunting gear, one booted foot on the neck of a six-point buck. Standing next to a big Christmas tree. Several shots at restaurants. He’d been a member of the Rotary Club and there were lots of photos at Rotary dinners.
    Jacko took in all the details