Page 118 of Long Gone

“When news broke?” I asked. “When was that?”

“The day after he went missing. J.R. asked if the police had supplied a search warrant to search Hugo’s office. When I said no, he told me he was sending someone to Jackson Creek within the hour and I was to meet them there.”

“And you did?” I asked in disbelief.

So my father hadn’t cleaned out Hugo Burton’s office personally. He’d just let the big bad wolf in.

“I’d learned that J.R. Simmons was a scary man, and he seemed even scarier toward the end. I was afraid to piss him off, so I agreed.”

“You helped him interfere with a police investigation, Dad,” I said in disgust.

“I know, but…” He drew a shaky breath. “I was afraid.”

I was in shock that my father had gotten involved with the notorious J.R. Simmons, but then again, a decade ago, J.R. Simmons had simply been known as a savvy businessman. I could understand why the attention and opportunity would have flattered him.

“So what happened when you met J.R. Simmons’s man?”

He looked down, his cheeks turning pink. “When I pulled up, he was already in the parking lot. He got out and took multiple boxes out of the car. I asked him what he planned to do with them, but he just gave me a dark look. I didn’t ask any more questions. I took him inside and let him into Hugo’s office.”

“That was wrong on so many levels, Dad.”

“I know,” he moaned, placing his face in his hands. “I know,” he repeated more quietly. “It still haunts me. Taking everything from Hugo’s wife and kids.”

My brows pinched together. “Wait. What does that mean?”

“He cleaned out everything except the family photos…but everything else. The only thing left was a desktop computer.”

“Why would he leave a computer?”

He looked sheepish. “I think he switched it out.”

“You didn’t watch what he took?”

“No, he told me to go, and he was the sort of guy you’d do better not to mess with. So I left for a while, and when I came back, I noticed the keyboard on the computer looked different. When I mentioned it to J.R.’s guy, he told me to stop asking questions. I thought about it for a long time afterward, and that’s when I realized he must’ve switched out the computer.”

“What happened after that?”

“After they found Hugo’s car, the police arrived with a search warrant. They questioned where the files had gone, and of course, I couldn’t say that J.R.’s guy had taken them. I told them I didn’t know.”

“You lied to the sheriff detective, Dad. That’s bad.”

He looked like he was going to be sick. “I know.”

“And Floyd, the office manager, thinks you took the stuff from Hugo’s office.”

His eyes widened. “You talked to him?”

“Yeah. I’m guessing he didn’t tell the police it was you?”

“No, but Floyd has always been pretty loyal.”

We were silent for a moment before I asked, “Why did J.R. Simmons want Hugo’s files?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly.

“Did you ask Simmons about it?”

“No,” he said in a rush. “I only spoke to him once after that. I’d emailed to inform him that I could no longer act as his attorney. He called to tell me that I was a disappointment, not that he was surprised, but insisted he’d send me a check for twenty dollars every month to keep me on retainer.”

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