Jase dropped his gaze and moved his hand as if trying to back off from the question.
“I…well…it just happened. It wasn’t deliberate. I think she misinterpreted some of the stories Maxie told her from when we used to live here.” He cleared his throat. “You remember Maxie, don’t you? Maxine Hokinson, Swede Hokinson’s daughter, my mother’s oldest sister? She’s the one who subbed at your friend Sarah Bridges’s house that summer their regular housekeeper got swarmed by Africanized bees. Anyway, you don’t need to get involved—just call me if Lolly shows up on your doorstep, and I’ll come fetch her.”
“All right.” What else could she say? She was way out of her depth.
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go now. It’s getting late, and I don’t want to be gone from the old house too long, in case Lolly shows up there.”
Laurel stood up to walk him out. “I’m sure you’ll find her soon.”
She was sure of no such thing, but at least she hoped so. A fifteen-year-old could land herself in a lot of trouble in an unfamiliar town, no matter how small. The Retriever had reported that a group of rowdy teenagers had been gathering in the parking lot of old Bosque Bend High School every night this summer and disturbing residents nearby. Art Sawyer had accompanied the story with a blistering editorial about underage drinking and promised more to come as the investigation continued.
Lord only knows how Art always got the inside scoop. Probably because his wife was a Hruska and her cousin’s nephew was the new chief of police. That’s how things worked in Bosque Bend. The old families, the ones that had been anchored there for generations, all knew each other, and—good, bad, or indifferent—the news got around.
Laurel unlocked the big front door, then held the screen open with one hand while offering the other to Jase in farewell. He enveloped it in his own for a single warm second and smiled at her—that dazzling, absolutely devastating smile that people saw so rarely, the smile that had sealed her to him for all eternity when she was just fifteen.
“Thank you, Laurel. You’re kinder to me than I deserve.”
Her heart thumped so loudly that he should have been able to hear it. She watched as he crossed the lawn to the long driveway on the south side of the house, waved once, and opened the door of his car—a big black Cadillac, just like Daddy used to drive.
*
Accustomed to Dallas’s big-city traffic, Jase made his way through Bosque Bend’s rush hour without even noticing it.
Where the hell was Lolly? Girl Child was quite a handful, but she’d never pulled a stunt like this before. A shiver shot through him as he glanced at the rapidly setting sun.
Relax, Jase. Everything’s going to be all right. Lolly’s a smart kid. She can take care of herself. In fact, she’s probably sitting on the front porch of the old house right now, waiting for you to come pick her up. Where else could she be? You needn’t have bothered Laurel by barging in on her like that.
He changed lanes, moving to the left.
Laurel…instead of working himself into a panic about Lolly, he’d think about Reverend Ed’s daughter, like he always did when his life started going down the crapper. She was the only girl he’d ever loved, and remembering her kindness—her goodness—gave him peace and strength.
But this time, picturing Laurel Harlow in his mind’s eye made him feel even worse. His fingers tightened on the leather-covered steering wheel. Sixteen years to learn better, and he’d still made a complete ass out of himself when he tried to talk to her—but he’d never imagined she’d be orphaned and divorced, all alone in that big, cavernous house.
His mouth twisted. He should have figured out something was going on when Information told him the Harlow number was unlisted. That was quite a change from the old days, when half the boys in Bosque Bend were on the horn to Reverend Ed—or at least the “at-risk” half.
But how could anyone be stupid enough to let Laurel Harlow get away? Driving into town earlier this afternoon, he’d thought that ol’ Dave was one man who went to bed happy each night. As a teenager, Laurel had been sexy as hell—tall, with a full-breasted woman’s body, soft gray eyes fringed with long black lashes, her lips sweet and tender—the princess of Bosque Bend. Now, in full womanhood, she was in her glory.
He stomped on his brake as a traffic signal that hadn’t been there sixteen years ago went from amber to red in front of him. Time to switch on his headlights. The last of the radiant sunset had finally sunk below the horizon.
He’d better get a move on. His old neighborhood had always held a particularly prominent position on the Bosque Bend police blotter, and he didn’t want Lolly out there alone after dark.
The signal turned green. He hit the accelerator and shot forward.