Cord handed Shallie a coffee and several sheets he’d printed out on Kevin Fletcher, corrupt Chicago cop. She sat down and read them quickly. Fletcher had been charged with racketeering, drug dealing, organizing a hit, and was on the verge of being tried when his “friends and accomplices,” as Eddie had called them, delivered a hit of their own. No one was charged in that murder.

As Eddie had also said, there were no references in these articles to Christine or any other family. Including her.

Shallie studied the photo—and the man did look vaguely familiar. She could easily believe he was her father.

“I’m sorry,” Cord said. “Life can be hard.”

She understood. “You obviously had a difficult background yourself.”

“Well, mine improved as soon as my grandparents got involved. I’m really grateful to them for everything. My mother—I can barely call her that—probably wouldn’t have noticed if I’d simply disappeared from my crib.”

Shallie raised her eyebrows. “Wow, there sure are a lot of screwed-up families out there.”

“And many that aren’t. Look at Tina and Mitch and their kids, for one. The Lewises for another. I happen to believe that you can recover from your past. You and I have—and Carly’s on her way.”

“That kind of recovery demands some responsibility from us, don’t you think?”

“Definitely. I don’t want to sound preachy, but I believe we owe gratitude to the forces—human or institutional or spiritual, whatever—that helped save us. We have to pass on to others what we’ve learned and received ourselves.”

“I agree, but I’m not sure how.”

“You’ve already done it for Carly. For Russ. For me. You’ve made a difference to all of us.”

“And you’ve made the same kind of difference to me.” In more ways than you realize.

“Listen,” he said quietly. “If you want to talk about this, about everything you just found out, if you want to yell about it, cry… I’m here.”

“Thank you, Cord. And if you want to talk to me about…Julie, please remember I’m here for you, too.”

“We’ll talk soon.”

“And get together soon. If you know what I mean.” She hugged him tightly.

“Oh, yeah.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THAT EVENING AT BAILEY’S, Cord enjoyed the enthusiastic way everyone got involved in the Great Dog-Naming Event. Other than Shallie and Carly, they were all having local beer; Shallie had her usual Washington State Chardonnay and Carly drank sparkling water.

Various names had already been brought up and discarded. Brynne suggested a few, all vetoed, and finally said, “Call her Baby.” At which Cord—predictably—rolled his eyes.

“What about something Western? Like Cowgirl,” he said.

“Cow for short?” Brynne asked in a saccharine voice. Cord rolled his eyes again.

“How about… Sweetie Pie?” Tina said. Now they all rolled their eyes.