Resolution: Evan Warner Book 1 by Shawn Underhill, Nick Adams Read Free Book Online Page A

out. Look closer. Find something. Anything .
    That’s not to say that I knew exactly what I was going to do. I didn’t. All I knew was that doing something would feel better than nothing. And talking to my uncle was getting me nowhere.
    I called Frank, looked at my uncle and said, “I can’t let it go. I don’t know why, but I can’t.”
    “You have to, Evan.”
    “No. Today was nothing. I—”
    “It was something .”
    “I’m almost glad it happened. It was a wakeup call.”
    “Listen to me,” he pleaded.
    But I didn’t listen. In that frame of mind I wasn’t capable of hearing any sense he had to dispense. I turned and walked to my van. Opened the slider and let Frank in. Got in and cranked the motor. Put the window down.
    Uncle Danny came over. Set his hands over the door. He looked determined to change my mind.
    He said, “You absolutely cannot hassle Lucy’s mother.”
    “No?”
    “It’s an open case. The FBI still has their eye on it. If you—”
    “They’re free to stop me,” I said over him. “At least it will get them thinking about Lucy again.”
    I could see the tension in him. The conflict. If he’d been a few decades younger, he might have grabbed me by the shirt collar and tried to shake some sense into me.
    “I’ll catch you later,” I said and clicked the shifter into drive.
    “Look,” he said. “I get it. You’re pissed off right now. Sick of seeing all the problems and dysfunction going unaddressed. You don’t want to sit back and wait for someone else to act. I understand, Evan. Believe me, I do. I spent over thirty years serving this state.”
    I said, “I don’t want to be a cop.”
    “It would be a chance for you to do some good. You’d be damn good at it, if you could just keep your temper in check.”
    “It’s not for me.”
    “You can’t go off and wing it just because you’re obsessed. That sort of approach doesn’t fly. You need proper licensing and training to do PI work.”
    I scoffed. I was picturing myself stuffed into a Ferrari like Tom Selleck. Evan Warner PI . That option was at the very bottom of my list of possibilities.
    “Understand me clearly,” my uncle said. “If you get caught snooping around, there’s not a hell of a lot I can do to help you. The town line is where my jurisdiction ends.”
    I nodded. Said, “Okay.”
    He stepped back from the van and I went down the driveway and turned onto Center Road.
     

 
     
    9
     
     
    Near Saulsbury’s southern town line we have a throwback general store, The Barn. A huge structure shaped like an old dairy barn. A long porch along the front, lined with Uncle Danny’s rocking chairs. The place sells a little of everything. Lumber and hardware. Guns and ammo. Clothing and footwear. In the front left corner of the building there’s a restaurant, aptly named The Feedlot. Byron Holt and his family run the place with very little outside help. The restaurant alone makes a killing off of campground guests.
    The parking lot was packed when I pulled in. Saturday evening on a holiday weekend. I found a spot around the back. Parked and sat there. Trying to decide if I was hungry enough to deal with the crowd. My stomach wanted food, but the rest of me was recoiling from the horde. I knew everyone would be staring at me. Plenty of people would want to talk about what happened. All I wanted was some dinner and some peace and quiet.
    I got out my phone and brought up the local news site. Searched around the old articles regarding Lucy Kurtz. There was nothing new, aside from a brief overview piece stating that authorities reported having no new suspects or leads.
    “Great work,” I muttered.
    Frank came up between the seats and whined softly. He knew exactly where we were. Even the parking lot smelled wonderful.
    I said, “Everyone has pretty much forgotten Lucy.”
    He licked his chops.
    “Are they all inept? Or are they all just callous?”
    There’s no evidence .
    Frank sighed heavily. Wondering