“Terrible. Like I said, let’s deal with this as quickly as possible, so that they can move on with their lives. I’m sure that’s what they want.” Hal closed the file. “Thanks, Jake. Keep me in the loop.”

Jake walked back to his office, his face burning. Why did he feel like he was somehow in the wrong for putting together a case against these teenagers? These criminals, he corrected himself. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he’d been told on, and in a way he had, with June Jeffries’s father calling the chief to complain. Once again, the entitlement of these kids, and their parents, blew him away. Instead of being concerned that his daughter might be involved in a crime, the father was upset that the police had even spoken to her.

It was clear to Jake that Hal wanted no part of the case. He may have been worried about how it would look to his golf buddies and their kids, but Jake knew there were plenty of people in Hart County who would resent the idea of a bunch of rich kids destroying a home and getting away with it. Not for the first time, Jake thought that Hal might be ready for retirement. He seemed out of touch. But if Jake was able to push the case forward on his own, and get a big win, it could be huge for his career. Maybe even a flagship case, if he decided to run for DA down the road. Jake shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. Without Hal’s support, it would be very difficult to bring serious charges. But it was certainly an idea.

That evening, Jake pulled up a barstool at the counter of Alejandro’s Diner, threw his jacket over the back of the seat, and arranged his newspaper and his cell phone in front of him. He didn’t need to look at the menu—he ate here two or three nights a week, and he rotated through a few favorite dishes.

The girl behind the counter—the owner’s daughter whom Jake had noticed at the high school—poured him a glass of water.

“So, what’s it going to be?” She closed her eyes as if trying to divine the future. “Steak salad, side of black beans, no red onion?” She opened one eye and glanced at him. “Nope, I’ve got it. Chicken tortilla soup, green salad. Am I right?”

Jake laughed. “Soup it is. I love your dad’s chicken soup.”

“I know. It’s really good. I like it with habanero sauce—you should try that. It was my mom’s recipe. It always makes me think of her.”

Jake realized that he had never seen Al’s wife in the restaurant. He hadn’t thought to wonder about it. “Oh,” he said awkwardly. “Well, it’s a great recipe.”