Page 135 of Come Back to Me

Cody

Tee

The DVD leaning against my door has me frowning.

“The hell?” I mutter to myself when I read the title from afar.Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I pick it up and am even more bewildered by the sound of…shards?

Opening the case, I find the DVD busted into a thousand pieces.

That’s when I remember Butch’s letter.

Me mentioning that I didn’t like Westerns, but that I liked Robert Redford.

My mouth tightens, but though I stalk over to the trash can and I drop it in there, it doesn’t stay there long.

An hour later, I swipe it out.

Thirty minutes later, I dump it back in.

Four hours later, the DVD case is in a box.

With his letters.

The ones I can’t throw out.

With the blue chalcedony.

And the Taihang Mountain Thuja incense cones that were propped outside my door yesterday.

“He’s such a jerkface.”

Cody

Two days later

“I’m sorry, marshal. But we’d have called you if Amy Nygard had returned to campus.”

More tired than ever, I rub my eyes. “I checked out the address on her file, but she hasn’t lived there for a year.”

Our Lady of Sorrows’ principal grimaces as she pours coffee for us both. She doesn’t answer until she places a cup on a saucer in front of me. I’m not ashamed to admit that I guzzle it down.

“My predecessor was lax. I should have sent out updated requests for student information, but I’ve been dealing with the aftermath of two decades of incompetence and hadn’t gotten around to that yet. My sincerest apologies, marshal.”

Staring at my boots, I wave a hand. “I’m worried for her.”

“I must confess, I am too. I did a deep-dive into her files, and she’s been nothing but a grade A student since she came here. It’s a tragedy that all of this will come to an end in her final year of school.”

“How trustworthy is James Fairweather?”

“About as trustworthy as his family’s product line. I’ve had four sets of their snow tires fitted since December—they didn’t last the season.”

“Could he be lying?” It’s wishful thinking. I know it is. But Amy’s Paulie’s sister. I can’t let him down.

She stares at me over her coffee cup. “Do you know Amy Nygard?”

I don’t stiffen, though I can sense her curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you care more about her than Fairweather, and in close communities, the biggest bank accounts tend to cause more of a ruckus.”

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