There was a long moment of pure tension, stretched to the snapping point, and then Cord asked, “Convince us of what?”

She took her time answering. “I’ll get to that,” she said, sitting up very straight now, still stroking Trooper. “After we eat.”

Eli leaned forward, his face solemn. “No more games,” he said. “You’re the spitting image of Reba Shannon. What’s your connection to her?”

The kid hesitated, then opened her mouth to answer—or dish out more guff—but Molly came through the swinging door with an eloquent crash, carrying a tray. The mugs rattled when she plunked it down hard in the middle of the table, and coffee splashed around in the carafe.

“The burgers will be ready in a few minutes,” she announced with a sniff.

And then she was gone again, snit and all.

“What was that about?” the girl asked.

J.P. was pouring coffee with a slight smile on his face. “Molly hates a mystery,” he said lightly. “She’ll be in a fine fuss until she knows what’s going on, right down to the last detail. Chapter and verse.”

The girl helped herself to one of the mugs and added plenty of sugar and thick cream before lifting it to her mouth.

“What is going on?” Eli tried again. He might have intimidated a lot of teenagers with his official status, his dark scruff of a beard and his practiced glare, but this one merely sipped coffee and smiled with her eyes.

She must have downed half that first cup before lowering it and saying softly, “Reba Shannon was my mom.”

Was.

The reminder packed a punch. Reba, a vital force, was gone.

“Oh, don’t worry that I’m scamming you. I actually have a birth certificate.” She flinched. “I can show it to you later, okay, Mr. Sheriff?”

It still seemed impossible… Except that, no, it wasn’t. Reba’s death was hard enough to believe and, in some ways, to accept. But she had a kid? Seventeen or eighteen? He wasn’t going to think about the potential implications of that. Implications not just for him but for all three of them. That kind of reflection would have to wait…

“We won’t worry about it now,” Eli said. “But back to Reba…”

The girl must have read something in their faces. “You knew, then? That she died?” she asked.

“Yes,” Cord answered at some length, his voice so hoarse it hurt. “We knew.”

Accusations sparked in the amber eyes. “I don’t remember seeing any of you at the funeral.”

Cord’s own eyes scalded, and he couldn’t look at either J.P. or Eli. Didn’t dare.

“It was too late by the time we found out,” Eli said.

“Would you have shown up, any of you, if you’d known earlier?” It was a challenge; she knew the answer.

Unfortunately, she was right.

The ensuing silence blocked out even the bull-bellow roar of the storm.

“Probably not,” Cord said.

The girl bristled again, bit her lower lip.