The Neighbor - Lisa Gardner [89]
“Three.”
“I’m here to help, son. Truly. I may be an old man, but I have some fight in me left.”
“Four.”
Max’s gaze grew narrower, more appraising. “You kill my only daughter, Jason Jones? Because if it turns out you harmed my Sandra, hurt one little hair on her head—”
“Five.”
Jason stepped off the porch. Max didn’t follow him right away. Jason was not surprised. According to Sandra, her father lived as the proverbial big fish in a little pond. He was a highly respected judge, an affable Southern gentleman. People instinctively trusted him, which is why no one had ever intervened to help his only daughter even as her mother poured bleach down her throat.
The reporters saw his approach, and optimistically stuck their microphones into the air, screaming louder.
“Where is Ree?”
“Who’s the man on your porch?”
“Do you have any words for the person who may have abducted Sandy?”
Jason stopped next to the uniformed officer farthest from the press and gestured him over with his finger. The officer’s nameplate read “Hawkes.” Excellent, Jason could use a hawk.
The officer dutifully huddled close, having no more desire to share their conversation with the greater free world than Jason did.
“Old guy on the porch,” Jason murmured. “He’s not welcome on my property. I have asked him to leave. He has refused.”
Officer arched a brow. Looked from Jason to the reporters to Jason again as a wordless question.
“If he wants to make a scene, that’s his choice,” Jason answered in a low undertone. “I consider him a threat to my daughter, and I want him gone.”
The officer nodded, pulled out a spiral notebook. “What’s his name?”
“Maxwell Black from Atlanta, Georgia.”
“Relation?”
“Technically speaking, he’s my wife’s father.”
The uniformed officer startled. Jason shrugged. “My wife did not wish for her father to be part of our daughter’s life. Just because Sandy’s … gone is no reason to disregard her instructions.”
“He make a statement? Threaten you or your daughter in any way?”
“I consider his presence to be a threat.”
“You mean you have a restraining order?” the officer asked in confusion.
“First thing tomorrow, I promise.” Which was a lie, because Jason would need proof of threatening behavior, and the courts would probably require something stronger than Sandy’s belief that Max had loved his psycho wife more than his battered daughter.
“I can’t arrest him,” the officer began.
Jason cut him off. “I consider him to be trespassing. Please remove him from my property lines. That’s all I ask.”
The uniformed officer didn’t argue, just shrugged, as if to say, It’s your front-page funeral, and prepared to stroll over to the front porch. Max, however, could see the writing on the wall. He descended the steps on his own, his jovial smile still firmly in place though his motions were jerky, a man doing what he had to do, not what he wanted to do.
“Guess I’ll check into my hotel now,” Max consented grandly, nodding once in Jason’s direction.
The reporters had quieted. They appeared to be connecting the presence of the uniformed officer to the actions of the white-haired man and were now keenly watching the show.
“’Course,” Max said to Jason, “I look forward to visiting with my granddaughter first thing in the morning.”
“Not gonna happen,” Jason replied evenly, heading back toward the house, where Ree waited for him.
“Now, son, I wouldn’t say that if I were you,” Max called after him.
Despite his better intention, Jason found himself pausing, turning, regarding his father-in-law.
“I know something,” the old man said quietly, soft enough that only Jason and the uniformed officer could hear. “For example: I know the date you first met my daughter, and I know the date my granddaughter was born.”
“No you don’t. Sandy never called you when she had Ree.”
“Public record, Jason Jones. Public record. Now, don’t you think it