Chapter Sixteen
The case was over.
He sat in the cold outside, picturing the file, now sealed and likely shoved into that storage unit with so many other cold and closed cases. It left him with a sick feeling.
He listened to the dog’s nails scraping on the wooden deck as he sat in a folding camp chair that had seen better days. The sun was coming up, and the silence of the morning was usually something he welcomed, but not today.
“Here, looks like you could use this. Black in the morning, right?”
He took in the coffee that appeared beside him in an old mug. It was steaming, offered by a slender hand. There were her freckles, her determined blue eyes.
“Yeah, thanks,” he said.
Billy Jo strode across his deck, a blanket pulled over her shoulders, also holding a mug of coffee. She walke
