The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the lonely stretch of highway where Rory stood, her eyes fixed on a point in the distance only she could see. A gentle breeze rustled through the nearby trees, carrying with it the scent of pine and wild sage.
To any passerby, it might have seemed like just another beautiful Wyoming afternoon. But for Rory, this place was haunted by memories and unanswered questions.
This was where it had happened. Where her mother’s life had ended and her sister’s had…what? Disappeared? Been stolen away? Even after all these years, Rory still didn’t know.
She came here sometimes, when the weight of not knowing became too much to bear. Standing here, she could almost feel the echoes of that night—the screech of tires, the shattering of glass, the deafening silence that followed. She hadn’t been in the car when it happened, but she’d imagined it so many times that the idea of it felt almost like a memory.
The crunch of gravel announced another presence, pulling Rory from her reverie. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
“Thought I might find you here,” Evan said softly, coming to stand beside her.
Rory nodded, not trusting her voice just yet. They stood in companionable silence for a moment, both gazing out at the road that had changed everything.
“How are the Stricklands doing?” Rory asked finally, her voice rough with unshed tears.
Evan sighed. “As well as can be expected. Jacob’s shaken up, but he’ll recover. Jenna’s trying to convince him they should go on a vacation, take some time away from the ranch. I have my doubts she’ll convince the stubborn old man, but she’s doing her best.”
Rory nodded. “And Morrow?”
“He’s been transferred to a secure psychiatric facility for evaluation. The DA’s office is still deciding how to proceed, given the…unique circumstances of the case.”
“Unique,” Rory echoed with a bitter laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
Evan turned to face her, his expression serious. “Rory, what Morrow did was unforgivable. But you gave him a chance at redemption. That’s more than most people would have done.”
Rory shook her head. “I just did my job.”
“No,” Evan said. “You did more than that. You saw the humanity in him, even after everything he’d done. That’s…that’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you.”
There was something in his voice that made Rory look up, meeting his gaze. What she saw there made her heart skip a beat.
“Evan,” she started, but he held up a hand.
“I know, I know. This probably isn’t the time or place, but—”
“But you’ve had a crush on me since high school, is that it?”
He stared at her, blinking rapidly. “Uh…yeah, I guess.” He blushed, scratching at the back of his neck. “How’d you know?”
“Reading people is part of the job. Plus, I’ve known you forever. You haven’t exactly been subtle.”
He cleared his throat and glanced away, looking tongue-tied.
“For what it’s worth,” Rory said gently, “I care about you too. I’m just not sure I’m ready for…for anything more right now.”
A shadow passed over Evan’s face—then it was gone. “I get it. You’ve got a lot on your plate.”
They lapsed into silence again, both lost in thought. After a while, Evan spoke again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “About what happened here?”
Rory hesitated. She didn’t like talking about that night, not even with those closest to her. But something about the moment—the fading sunlight, the quiet understanding in Evan’s eyes—made her want to open up.
“I keep wondering what happened to Ramona,” she said. “Was she…was she taken? Did she somehow survive and wander off? And if so, how is it possible she hasn’t turned up? I’ve gone over it a thousand times in my head, and I still can’t make sense of it.”
Evan listened quietly, letting her get it all out.
“And my dad,” Rory continued, the words coming faster now. “He just…checked out after it happened. As if Mom and Ramona weren’t the only ones we lost that night.”
“Have you talked to him recently?” Evan asked carefully.
Rory shook her head. “Not in years. Not since…”
She trailed off. Her parents had gotten divorced when she was only twelve, and she had a vague recollection of her father showing up at the house one night, drunk out of his wits, shouting about alimony and how Rory’s mother wasn’t going to get a “single damned cent”—she remembered that phrase in particular.
Years later, she’d seen him at the funeral. He’d been sober then, to Rory’s surprise and relief, but he’d slipped out as soon as the service was over—probably sneaking off to drown his sorrows.
Or celebrate. It was a terrible thought, but maybe that was the kind of man he was. Rory couldn’t say—she hardly even knew him.
“Maybe,” Evan said gently, “it’s time to reach out. Not for him, but for you. Sometimes, facing the past is the only way to move forward.”
Rory was quiet for a long moment, considering his words. “I wouldn’t even know where to find him.”
“You might try Rocky Auto.”
Rory stared at her partner. “Did you look him up? Have you been keeping tabs on my family?”
Evan shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I had my truck worked on there about a month ago, and I thought one of the mechanics looked familiar. So I looked him up.”
Rory sighed. “You’re not going to leave me any excuses, are you?”
“Hey.” He smiled gently. “It’s your choice. I’m not trying to tell you what to do.”
She nodded. “It wouldn’t matter anyway, I suppose. I already know what I have to do.”
***
Rory’s truck rumbled to a stop in front of Rocky Auto, the faded sign creaking slightly in the afternoon breeze. The once-bright letters were now chipped and weathered, much like the relationship she was about to confront.
She sat for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white, her heart pounding an erratic rhythm against her ribs.
Am I really going to do this? she thought.
It had been years since she’d last seen her father. What would he look like now? Was he still the man who used to push her in the tire swing by the river, laughing as she squealed with delight? Would he even recognize her, the little girl now grown into a woman with lines of her own etched by time and hardship?
Taking a deep breath that did little to calm her nerves, Rory stepped out of the truck. The familiar sounds and smells of an auto shop immediately enveloped her—the rhythmic clang of tools against metal, the hiss of pneumatic equipment, the sharp, acrid scent of oil and grease that seemed to permeate everything. It reminded her of summers long ago, watching her father work on the tractor, his strong hands sure and capable before the bottle had stolen their steadiness.
She scanned the open garage bays, searching for a familiar face among the mechanics bent over engines and peering under lifted vehicles. The noise was almost overwhelming—the screech of metal, the roar of an engine being tested, the staccato beat of an air wrench.
“Can I help you?” a young mechanic asked, approaching her as he wiped his grease-stained hands on an equally dirty rag. His face was open, friendly.
“I’m looking for Raymond Wood,” Rory said, surprised at how steady her voice sounded despite the fact that everything inside her was trembling.
The mechanic pointed toward the back of the shop, past a line of cars in various states of repair. “Should be in the office. Last door on the left.”
Rory nodded her thanks and made her way through the organized chaos of the shop floor. She sidestepped puddles of oil, ducked under a partially dismantled engine suspended from a chain, and avoided the sparks flying from a welding job in the corner. With each step, her apprehension grew.
She paused at the office door, her hand raised to knock, when doubt suddenly overwhelmed her like a tidal wave.
What was she doing here? This man had walked out of her life years ago. He’d chosen the bottle over his family time and time again. Maybe this was a mistake, reopening old wounds that had never truly healed.
Maybe it would be better just to leave. If he wanted to make things right, he could reach out to her. Communication was a two-way street, after all, and his silence said a lot.
Still, she hesitated. I’ve come this far, she thought. Am I really going to walk away without even seeing him? No matter what he’s done, he’s still my father. Nothing can change that.
Steeling herself, she raised her fist to knock. Before she could do so, however, she was distracted by the sound of someone calling her name.
“Rory?”
She turned slowly, as if moving through molasses. There he was—Raymond Wood, older now, his hair more gray than the rich brown she remembered. Deep lines creased his face, telling stories of hardship and regret. But his eyes—they were the same startling blue she saw every time she looked in the mirror.
He stared at her, wide-eyed with surprise, a wrench forgotten in his hand.
“Hi, Dad,” Rory said, her voice nearly lost in the cacophony of the shop.
Raymond stepped toward her, perhaps intending to wrap her in his arms, then hesitated, as if unsure of his welcome. He set the wrench down on a nearby toolbox with a metallic clunk. “I, uh… it’s good to see you. What brings you by?”
The words sounded tentative. He was just as uncertain about how to do this as she was.
Rory had prepared a whole story about needing brake work. But now, reading the hope and fear warring in her father’s eyes, the lie stuck in her throat.
“I… I wanted to see you,” she admitted, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. “It’s been a long time.”
Raymond nodded, a flicker of something—hope? relief? —crossing his weathered face. “It has.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Rory looked down at the floor, unsure where to go from here. There was no script to follow, no plan. She felt like she was feeling her way through a dark room.
“Listen,” Raymond said, “it’s pretty noisy in here. Hard to hear yourself think, let alone have a conversation. There’s a park just down the street. Maybe we could talk there?”
Rory nodded. Raymond nodded back, looking relieved.
“Come on,” he said. “It’s just this way.”
Rory followed her father out of the shop, ignoring the curious glances of the other workers. Then, they were walking side by side down the cracked sidewalk. The silence between them was deafening, filled with years of unspoken words and regrets. Their footsteps seemed unnaturally loud, the syncopated rhythm of two people trying to find their way back to each other.
The park was small, just a patch of green in the middle of town, but it was quiet. A few ancient oak trees provided shade, their red, brown, and gold leaves rustling gently in the breeze. Rory and her father sat on a bench, the peeling green paint a testament to the passage of time.
The silence stretched between them. Rory found herself studying her father’s profile while he stared off into the distance, noting the new creases around his eyes, the slight stoop to his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.
Finally she broke the silence, the question that had burned in her for years finally spilling out. “Why did you leave?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly. “After the funeral. You just…disappeared.”
Raymond’s shoulders slumped, as if the weight of his past sins was physically pressing down on him. “I thought…I figured you wouldn’t want to see me. After everything I’d put you and your mother and sister through. I was ashamed, Rory. Of who I was, of what I’d done.”
He took a deep breath before continuing, his eyes fixed on a distant point. “That day—the day of the accident—it was like a bucket of ice water to the face. A wake-up call. I haven’t had a drink since then. Not one drop.”
Rory stared at him, a mix of emotions swirling inside her like a tornado. Disbelief, hope, anger, relief—they all warred for dominance. “You’ve been sober all this time?”
Raymond nodded, finally meeting her gaze. The pain in his eyes was raw, unfiltered. “It doesn’t make up for the years I wasted, for the pain I caused. But I’m trying to be a better man. The man you and your mother and sister deserved all along.”
Rory didn’t know what to say. Part of her wanted to believe him, to embrace this changed version of her father. But another part, the part that remembered the shouting, the broken promises, the nights spent wondering if he’d come home at all—that part held her back.
He left you, a voice in her head whispered. You, Mom, Ramona. He left you guys to fend for yourselves. If he hadn’t done that, he might’ve been in that car that night, and maybe…
“I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness,” Raymond continued, his voice thick with emotion. “But I want you to know how sorry I am for everything. And if there’s any way I can make amends…”
Rory was quiet for a long moment, processing his words. She watched a pair of squirrels chase each other up a nearby tree. Then, almost without meaning to, she found herself speaking.
“I’m going to start looking into Ramona’s disappearance again,” she said, the words hanging in the air between them.
Raymond’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his weathered hands clenching reflexively. “After all this time? What changed?”
Rory shrugged, trying to put her feelings into words. “I’ve spent years running from it, trying to pretend it didn’t happen. Throwing myself into work, into other cases. But I can’t anymore. I need to know the truth, whatever it is. Even if it’s…even if it’s not what we hope for.”
To her surprise, Raymond nodded, a look of understanding crossing his face. “I get that. The not knowing…it eats at you. And I…I want to help, if you’ll let me.”
Rory looked at him, really looked at him. She saw the regret etched deep in the lines around his eyes, the hope flickering tentatively in their blue depths, the sincere offer of support in the set of his jaw. She couldn’t forget what he’d done, not yet. The wounds were too deep, the history too painful for that.
But maybe…maybe it was a step in the right direction.
“Okay,” she said softly, the word feeling like a monumental step. “Maybe you can help. But I need you to know something.”
“Yes?” he replied, his voice cautious but eager.
“This doesn’t fix everything. What you did to our family…” She shook her head and clenched her jaw.
“I know,” Raymond said. “I’m just asking for you to give me a chance. I want to be in your life again, Rory. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you came here.”
She stared off into the distance, saying nothing. She wanted desperately to believe him, and yet…
Coming to a decision, she rose. “I’m going to go through the police report, see what I can dig up,” she said. “I’ll call you after that. I want to go over everything you remember about that night.”
He nodded, staring at her with an expression of tentative hope. “I’ll be here.”
She lingered, sensing she should say something. No words came, however. Finally she met his eyes one last time, then looked away, unsure what to make of her conflicted emotions.
“Okay,” she said, and turned away.
“Hey, Rory?” her father called after her.
Rory stopped and looked back.
“I’m glad you came,” he said again.
Rory nodded and then kept walking.
Me, too, Dad, she thought. Me, too.