Perfect Night (Mason Creek)

“What about the bar?”

I shrugged. “That was Dad’s dream. His slice of Mason Creek. I’m thinking about selling it.”

“Can I offer you some advice?”

“Everyone else has.”

“Don’t give it up yet. Let someone run it and give yourself time to figure things out. That’s the nice thing about Montana. It’s not the hustle and bustle of the big city. It’s slow, steady, thoughtful.”

He made some sense. “I have another reason to stay.” I sighed. “I want to prove my father was murdered.” Once again, I held my breath, afraid he’d let me down like everyone else.

“Walk me through it.”

I was grateful for his absolute trust that I wasn’t crazy. “Ever since Mom died, Dad would never leave the house without telling me.”

When I was young, I’d been home from school, sick with a fever. I’d taken a nap and it’s believed that Mom drove to the store to get a prescription for me. On the way, her car was struck by an out-of-towner speeding through a red light. I woke, feverish, calling for her. I’d been so sick; I’d passed out while trying to get to the phone to call Mom or Dad. My father found me on the floor halfway to the phone after being notified about the accident. Her car had been engulfed in flames, and no one knew if I’d been in the car or not. I didn’t have to share the details with Aiden. He would have heard. I got to the point.

“We had a fight that night. More like he and my fiancé did. I’d been so disgusted by the pair of them, I’d gone to my room. I thought about talking to Dad and smoothing things over, but I decided to wait until morning.” Guilt turned on the water works while I retold the story. “Morning came but he was gone. I remember thinking ‘was he that mad at me?’ until the sheriff came and told me.”

“Who found him?” he asked.

“His assistant manager at the bar, Jack. He went in early because a truck was coming with a delivery. He found Dad face up behind the bar. He was cold by then, and Jack called for help. The sheriff was the first to arrive at the scene right after Jack.”

“Any signs of struggle? Broken bottles? Anything missing?”

“No. Doc said there were no visible wounds beside a goose egg on the back of his head. It was assumed he had a heart attack.”

“Did you get an autopsy?”

“No. Sheriff said it wasn’t necessary given there was nothing to suggest any crime was committed. So I would have to pay, and it was expensive. I’d been a mess trying to navigate everything else, and I didn’t know what to do. I had so many things to worry about. The bar, putting a funeral together, keeping up with my classes I just…”

“It’s okay. I’m not judging you, Emma. Just gathering facts.”

Though I was afraid to hear the answer, I asked anyway. “Was I wrong?”

“There’s no right or wrong answer here. You did what you thought was best given the circumstances. Besides, we can still do an autopsy if need be.”

I stepped back in surprise. “Really. Even after—” I waved it away unable to complete my sentence.

“Even after,” he said, kindly. “Can I ask, what the argument was about?”

“You don’t think Evan had anything to do with it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think anything. Just gathering information to help me determine his state of mind.”

I closed my eyes, hating that our last words weren’t good ones.

“Emma, no matter what happened, your father knew you loved him.”

I covered my mouth as I began to cry again. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”

“Don’t be.” He pulled tissues from his pocket. “I meant to give you these when I came out.”

Grateful, I took them and dabbed at my eyes. “I’ll never get to take my words back.”

“We all say dumb things at times. I’m certain he knew that.”

“Evan was being a dick, but so was Dad. I was caught in the middle. I told them if they didn’t stop, I would leave them both.”

He laughed, surprising me. “Your dad was always protective of you.”

My laugh was without humor. “He was. He scared every boy away.”

“That’s not true. He put the fear of God in them, so they didn’t treat you badly.”

In the mist of sorrow, I could hold onto that. “He did, and I loved him for it. But how did you know?”

“Maybe one day, I’ll tell you.” He grinned, then the smile was gone. “Is there any reason your father would have left without telling you?”

I’d thought about that a lot. “The only thing I could think of was that Evan was there. Maybe he assumed I wouldn’t be alone, but that doesn’t make sense. He’d made Evan sleep in the back room downstairs since we weren’t married yet. He told him no daughter of his would be sleeping in sin. That was part of their dislike for each other. Evan thought Dad’s rules were archaic. His word.”