Page 49 of Lone Wolf

Why are you here?

“I want to find the lady who killed your father.”

Her eyes welled. With her forehead furrowed, she pounded her palm harder on the syllable, talking the word to life with her entire body: Why?

“So she can’t hurt you again.”

Her head pulled back ever so slightly. She looked confused.

Such a bright kid, lobbing one question after another to get her bearings despite everything she’d been through.

Were you there to hurt my dad?

“No. I heard a crash inside. The door was unlocked.”

A nurse passed by the doorway, and through some shared awareness they paused their conversation. Evan noted that no police officer had walked by to check the room since his arrival.

Jayla’s motions drew his attention once more: Why did you have a gun?

“I always carry a gun.”

To hurt people?

“When they deserve it.”

When do they deserve it?

“When they try to kill a young woman.”

Like me. Raised eyebrows, head tilted forward. A question.

“Yes.”

A tear rolled over the brink of one eye and tracked down her cheek. She made no move to wipe it. She nodded. Then: Will you get her? The lady who killed Dad? Who wants to kill me?

“Yes. But I need your help.”

Pointer finger to her mouth, then pulling it out and away, then bunched fingers tapping the center of her chest: Tell me.

“Did your father have any enemies?”

A vehement head shake.

“Did he owe any money?”

No. That wasn’t Dad. Dad was pay-your-credit-cards-on-time. Dad was get-your-taxes-right. Dad was work-hard-and-tell-the-truth.

“Anything unusual happening in his life? Any changes?”

Work was … Fingertips to her temples, rocking the hands slightly.

“I don’t know what that means.”

She made fists and pounded her thighs with frustration. Then: She took my voice. I don’t have a voice. I’m a singer and I don’t have a voice.

“I know,” Evan said. “But I need an answer right now. ‘Work was…’ Can you spell the last word?”

She grabbed a cell phone hidden in the sheets, typed on it, and thrust the screen to face him: STRESSFUL.