Page 63 of Lethal Game

Jason was right. The three-bedroom, two-bath home that had been filled with love, laughter, and the memories of a lifetime were completely gone. The rubble was a blight on the neighborhood now, with cautionary tape around the perimeter, and the lot would eventually have to be completely cleared.

"We moved in here when I was sixteen years old," she murmured as she gazed at the ashes of her life. My father had gotten a new job, and he said it was too good to pass up, so we moved from San Diego to here, and I had to start my junior year of high school in a new school—his school. That was the only thing that made it more bearable, although it was strange when I had to take his class. The kids were always trying to get me to ask him for inside info on what would be on the tests. But he just laughed and said I'd find out when everyone else did." She paused. "My mother used to have a garden in the back. That's probably gone, too, huh?"

"I think so," Jason said, giving her time to process what was in front of her.

"Even though I moved most of my stuff out of here when I got my place, my parents still had some of my childhood memorabilia, all the family photo albums, things we'll never be able to replace."

"It's possible your father removed some of those things when he left the house."

She turned her head to give him a hopeful look. "Do you think so?"

"He definitely took more than just clothes out of the house."

"I hope that's true, but at the end of the day, I just reallywant him back. I want my family together again. I don't believe he poisoned my mom. He couldn't have done that. What do you think?"

His blue eyes gave nothing away. She was getting used to his guarded look, which only became less guarded when they found themselves in each other's arms. That's when he showed his feelings in his eyes and in his kiss. Otherwise, he was a tough nut to crack. But he'd give her an honest answer, even if she didn't want one.

"We don't have enough information to know what your father did or why," he said. "But the truth will come out."

"Will it? It seems like my father has been living with his secrets for thirty years. That's a long time, more than my whole life. Why did his past catch up to him now?"

"I don't know, but he was probably taken by surprise."

"My mom wants me to have faith in him. I want to do that, too. I just don't want to be stupid."

"You are not stupid, Alisa. And as much as the past is on our minds, we need to look forward. Are you ready to talk to Henry?"

"Yes, but that forward step is going to take us right back to the past," she said with a sigh.

"If it does, hopefully, it will also bring us some answers."

Henry's house was only a few blocks away. When they turned the corner, a vehicle came racing around the corner so fast that Jason had to swerve not to hit them.

"What was that?" she asked breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder. The car was gone now.

"Nothing good," Jason muttered as he continued down the street.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to check out Henry's house before I take you inside." He pulled up in front of the home.

Henry's car was in the driveway and there were lights on inthe house, but even from the street, she could see that the front door was wide open.

Jason jumped out of the car and ran toward the door, removing his weapon from under his jacket as he did so. Then he disappeared into the house.

Her heart was beating fast as she waited for him to come back, to call for her, to tell her everything was okay. She cracked the window and heard a man's voice cry out in distress.

Throwing caution to the wind, she jumped out of the car and ran up the path. If Jason or Henry were in trouble, she wasn't going to sit in the car. When she stepped into the house, she heard someone howl in pain.

"Jason?" she yelled as she moved through the entry. She stopped abruptly at the archway to the living room, seeing Henry bleeding on the floor by the fireplace and Jason calling 911.

She ran toward Henry, dropping to her knees beside him. There was blood coming out of his chest, a massive amount of blood. She ripped off her sweater and pressed it against his wounds. "It's going to be okay, Henry," she said, looking into his face, which was barely recognizable from the bruising on his face. He'd been beaten badly. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

"I tried not to tell them, but the pain was too much," he said weakly.

"Tell them what?"

"Your father's location."

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