“Of course she does,” Ness replied evenly. “And of course that doesn’t matter. You’re her father. Worrying is what you do.”

I came to a stop just outside the kitchen door. The light was on inside, but the hallway was dark—better to mask my presence.

“I’ve missed this,” Ness commented after a long silence.

“Coffee you didn’t have to make yourself?” Bales asked gruffly.

“Worrying about them,” came the reply. “Knowing enough to know what we should be worrying about.”

There was a long pause. “Cady’s the one who chose to leave.”

“The one who didn’t even tell you she was pregnant,” Ness said. “I know.” She paused. “Would it have made a difference if she’d told you?”

I came to you, Cady had told her father. Do you remember that? Do you remember me begging you to help us find Ash? I would have done anything to get him back, and you wouldn’t even pick up a phone.

I missed Bales’s reply to his housekeeper’s question—if he’d answered it at all. There was almost a minute of silence before he spoke again. “You never blamed me.”

“Blame doesn’t change things, Bales Bennett. You, of all people, should know that by now.”

There was another pause, and I heard the light clink of a coffee mug being set down. “Mac came back to town,” Bales commented. “For the search.”

“For you,” Ness corrected.

“Not for me.”

There was something in the old man’s tone when he said those words. I needed Jude here to translate.

“Did you tell Mac—”

“No.” Bales clipped the word. “And you won’t, either, Ness Ashby.”

Tell him what? I wondered. My weight shifted from one foot to the other, and the floor creaked beneath me. Did they hear that? The sound of a chair scraping against the kitchen tile made a breath catch in my throat.

I went to retreat, but Ness’s voice held me back. “Thirty-plus years, Bales Bennett, and you’re still telling me what to do.”

“Thirty-plus years,” Bales replied, his voice rough and hoarse and oddly quiet, “and you still don’t listen.”

I felt suddenly like this wasn’t something I should be eavesdropping on.

This—whatever this was—was private.

I backed away—from the door, from listening—but as I edged toward the exit, a final piece of their conversation made its way to my ears.

“Cady won’t thank you for bringing Mac into this, Bales.”

“Since Ash, Cady doesn’t thank me for much.”

Chapter 15

I spent the night outside, sleeping propped up against the base of a tree, Saskia and Silver curled by my sides for warmth. I woke the next morning to the sound of a low, warm chuckle. At first, I thought I’d been spotted, but then I tracked the laughter to its source.