“You sure you don’t want something added to that coffee to warm you?” Mark said.
Billy Jo took in the view, the rocky shore below the small deck of the cabin where Mark Friessen lived. The dog he kept saying wasn’t his was curled up beside him.
She sat in an old camping chair, her sunglasses on, with a mug of coffee, very aware of the bottle of whiskey on the ground beside Mark after he had taken a splash in his. He was complex, difficult. She realized now that he was the only one here who understood how she felt.
“Nope, the coffee’s good,” she said. “You still haven’t told me what the chief said to you.”
She thought of Shay, who’d been so excited that just maybe, she’d get to see her sister. She didn’t think she’d ever forget the hate Shay had unleashed on her while being yanked out o
