17
“Mom, you’re making a mess.”
Evie’s voice pulled JJ back to the present, back to the little table outside the mall where she sat with her daughter and Rachel, holding an ice cream cone that dribbled onto her sore wrist and the cuff of her long-sleeved shirt.
“Damn!” JJ said, then looked at the girls apologetically.
“Don’t worry, Miss Tulley,” Rachel said, licking her cone carefully. “If I get secret ice cream, you can have a secret swear word.”
JJ smiled and dabbed at her sleeve with a pile of napkins. She’d actually gotten a special ice cream dispensation from Dorothy when she’d offered to take the girls to the Plattsville mall to distract them—especially Rachel—from the missing boy. But Rachel didn’t need to know that. “Thank you, sweetie. Sorry, my mind drifted off somewhere. Di
