“What about your dad?” Beck asked.
She pictured the framed photograph of a handsome man in uniform that had always hung in their home. Another one had hung in her mother’s room.
“He was in the military and was killed in a training accident while serving overseas. I was too young to remember him at all, but my mother always talked about what a good man he was.”
“And your mother didn’t marry again, in all that time?”
“Never. She didn’t even date, though she was beautiful and I’m sure plenty of men asked her out. She always said she would have time to date again after I graduated from high school. I wish she had been given that time.”
He sipped at his coffee and said nothing and she realized she had revealed more about herself to Beck than many of her good friends of longstanding ever learned about her.
“What about you? Do you come from a big family?”
“I have a couple of older sisters and a younger brother. My parents are still alive, still living in the home where I was raised in Los Angeles.”
“What do they think about you moving out to the wilds of Wyoming to live in a log cabin and make furniture?”
He looked rueful. “They love me. I think they’re mostly happy I found a relatively safe place to land after... after my wife died.”
June wished she hadn’t pushed their conversation in that direction, but now that he had brought up his wife, she didn’t see how to avoid the topic.
“I looked you up online the other day, wanting to see some of your other work. I hope that doesn’t sound too stalker-ish.”
He shrugged. “I’ve looked you up, too. Isn’t that what people do these days when they meet anyone new?”
What had he read about her? Probably that article that had been written a few years ago in her alumni magazine. Adam had been thrilled at the exposure for Move Inc, but June had mostly been embarrassed about the attention.
“I read about what happened to your wife. I’m sorry, Beckett. How tragic.”
His features seemed to grow even harsher than usual, his expression more shuttered. “It was a tough time, but it was fiveyears ago. I like to think I’m finally starting to find my way to the other side.”
“One of the articles I read online said the woman who ran down your wife was arrested and convicted of voluntary manslaughter.”
His jaw tightened. “They couldn’t prove Kathleen Morton was out for revenge after I convicted her son.”
“But you believe otherwise.”
“How could I not? After her son’s conviction, she told me outside the courtroom that she would find a way to make me pay.”
What a heavy burden he must carry. She couldn’t imagine the pain of believing someone he loved had died because of his actions.
Whenever she started to feel sorry for herself because of a health diagnosis she didn’t want, she needed to remind herself that everyone struggled with something.
In that moment, she realized her bitterness and anger toward Beckett over what had happened to Robin had somehow dissipated.
It wasn’t right, no. Her friend deserved justice and a sexual predator should have been put away to protect other women. But it wasn’t fair to blame Beck for that. He had been doing his job the best he saw fit.
The same job that had taken so very much from him.
“This is a pretty grim topic of conversation over coffee on a beautiful summer day,” he said, lifting his cup again. “Why don’t you show me what else you’ve found in the journals?”
She also couldn’t blame him for wanting to change the subject.
“What do you know about an unpublished manuscript Carson may have written?”
He stared at her, looking shocked. “Nothing at all. That would be amazing, if it were true. An additional Carson Wells manuscript to add to his canon would thrill his readers.”
“It might be nothing,” she warned. “I’m only up to the diary he was keeping around the timePurgatory Rivercame out, but he’s already planning the next book he wants to write and it bears no resemblance at all to his second published book,Beneath the Dusty Sky.”
