8
HANK
I’d been so driven, so focused on capturing my father’s killers. Ever since I received news he’d been shot, point blank and in cold blood, I’d wanted justice. I’d even taken the drastic step of taking over as sheriff. It had meant time away from Bridgewater, staying in town and sleeping at my father’s house, the one I’d grown up in. Without him there, it had felt empty, and it had made me realize my life was empty, only filled with the justice I wanted so f*****g badly.
I hadn’t appreciated my father’s interest in defending the vulnerable until he was gone. Only when we lowered the pine box in the ground had I felt vulnerable myself. My mother had died birthing me, leaving my father to care for a newborn alone. It had been just the two of us ever since and he’d done a good job. B
