Forty-sevenVisiting Ramsden and Candy Meadows was the first thing on the very long list of things he didn’t want to do, but Aristide found himself standing in front of their imposing paneled Californian oak front door waiting for his knock to be answered.
He had the urge to run away like a mischievous schoolboy when he heard footsteps approaching, but he clenched his jaw and held on.
“You!” Ramsden blocked the entryway, holding the door open only a quarter wide. “Haven’t we seen enough of each other to last a lifetime?” His voice was raspy and irritated.
So much for “No hard feelings.”
Aristide took an involuntary step back.
“I’ve got unanswered questions, Ramsden, and in the circumstances I think you and your daughter owe me—and the townspeople—some answers.”
The older man hesitated
