She lifted her face to the treetops and shuddered as if to shake off the emotion. “I’ll be fine. How’s his wife going to react when she hears the news?”
“I’m glad that’s the sheriff’s job.”
“My grandfather knows Jim. Or knew him. I think Jim was his insurance broker too.” Terra dropped her chin and stared at the ground. “I hope we can wrap this up quickly, since Jim wasn’t a loner or a stranger by any stretch. He knew a lot of people.”
“Which could make this more difficult,” he said.
“We’re talking like we know he was murdered. I find it hard to believe.”
He’d spotted the bloody slash in the back of Jim’s shirt. It was clean rather than jagged, as one would expect of an injury that had come from trees or rocks. Jack scratched his jaw. This guy wasn’t dressed for a hike this far out. Jack wouldn’t get ahead of himself on it. He could be jumping to conclusions that came far too naturally to him after too many undercover hours spent with murderers and traffickers.
“So, um, you were FBI.” Terra crossed her arms.
Uh. Oh. He knew where this conversation would head if he didn’t redirect it.
He couldn’t read her eyes because she’d donned her sunglasses again. Jack got the feeling she was gazing off into the distance because she didn’t want to look at him. They were alone for a few minutes. No need to act special-agent tough, but she’d suddenly put the cast-iron composure in place. A protective measure? If so, he could understand that she was sensitive about the topic, so why bring it up? Then again, Terra might want answers about what had happened before. Answers he couldn’t give her.
“Yeah, I was FBI. Now, as you can see, I’m with the county sheriff’s office. Congratulations, by the way, on your new job. I always knew you’d come back.” Cringing inside, he wished he could take the words back. She could find a way to take them wrong.
Sure, he’d kept tabs on her like some stalking idiot. He’d walked away from what he could have had with her, for hersake.
“Thanks for the congrats. And you’re back too. Now look at the two of us.” She didn’t bother to cover up the sarcasm with even a half smile this time. “What happened to you, anyway?”
Which happening did she refer to? “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. FBI was your dream.”
Jack heard what she wasn’t saying, loud and clear—she thought he’d given her up for that dream.
“Now you’re here,” she said. “Something must have happened.”
Yep. Something had happened, all right, but he had other reasons for returning. “Aunt Nadine has dementia, so I came back to help her.”
She removed the sunglasses, and now he could see the crystal-blue sincerity in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jack.”
His aunt had raised him. She’d taken him in after his dad had failed him so completely. She was a much older sibling to his father, fifteen years his dad’s senior.
“It’s manageable. She’s doing well. The medicine is helping.”
Even if he’d been offered the sergeant or captain position, he would have remained an investigator so he could be more available to Aunt Nadine, though even this position was proving to take up too many hours.
“There was no one else.” Aunt Nadine had lost her granddaughter, Sarah. That painful loss was the proverbial white elephant in the room.
“I understand.” Compassion suffused her gaze. “I hope she knows what you’ve given up to stay here with her.”
He shrugged, grateful to see the coroner and his crew heading their way. Jack had been ready to give up the undercover work, but more than that, he hadn’t gotten over the fact that no matter how hard he tried he hadn’t been there in time to save a trafficked young woman. And if that wasn’t enough to eat him alive every day, the secret he kept would see to it.