“We’re friends.”
“Uh-huh.” He smiled with an air of superiority. “Do you think I’ll be as tall as he is when I finish growing?” He glanced toward the framed photograph on his bureau. “How tall was Grandpa Sperry?”
On his thirteenth birthday, Jade had officially given him his grandfather’s Medal of Honor and the picture she had always treasured. From the time he was still small enough to sit in her lap, she had told Graham the story of her father’s valor in the Korean conflict. She had never told him his grandfather’s death was a suicide.
“He was six feet two inches, I believe.”
“So I’ll be at least that tall.”
“Probably.” She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Just don’t be in such a hurry to get there, okay? Good night.”
“G’night. Mom?”
“Hmm?” She turned at the door and looked back at him.
“Was my dad tall?”
Thinking of her three attackers, she answered huskily, “Above average.”
Graham nodded with satisfaction, then reached up to switch off the lamp above his bed. “G’night.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jade was working at her desk when Neal came in, unannounced, without even knocking. Loner hadn’t alerted her that anyone was outside. Graham was fishing in a nearby creek and had taken the dog with him for company.
Neal smiled at her as though they had parted on the best of terms. “Hi, Jade.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought my daddy to see you.”
“About what?”
“I wouldn’t want to spoil his surprise.”
Any surprise the Patchetts had cooked up would be nasty. “I don’t want to see him.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
He used a folding chair to prop open the door of the portable building before stepping outside. When he returned, he was carrying Ivan in his arms. He deposited him on the sofa. Jade stood stiffly beside her desk. Neal took the chair away from the door and sat down. Confident and cocky, he rested his ankle on his opposite knee.
“What do you want to see me about?” she asked Ivan.
“No inquiries after my health?” he mocked. “No pleasantries? No shooting the breeze first?”
“No.” She folded her arms across her midriff—a gesture of impatience. “If you’ve got something to say, say it. If not, leave.”
“That’s not the way I deal with folks.”
“That’s the way I deal with you.”
He fondled the smooth, arced handle of his cane. “I’ve seen pictures of your boy. He’s a real good-lookin’ kid.”
She remembered Ivan’s trait of staring people down from beneath his heavy eyebrows. He was using that method of intimidation on her now. It was hard to maintain a facade of indifference, especially since he was speaking of Graham. His evil personality was heightened by his physical deformity.
Keeping her tone cool and level, she replied, “I think he is.”
“He favors you. At least from a distance. I’d like to see him up close.”