Behind the counter sat Fred, looking old and craggy exactly as she’d always remembered. Near him, drawing a beer, was the woman Steve had mentioned. Gerta stood about Jo’s height. She had short blond hair, a narrow face, and athletic shoulders. Jo wondered if Fred had hired her to continue the alphabetical chain.
Gerta had noted Jo’s entrance right away, though her only reaction had been a quick glance of dark eyes. Fred must have noticed Gerta’s attention, as his gaze drifted in Jo’s direction.
The smile he offered when he recognized her was slow, slow and sad. He was the one who’d called her to tell her that her father was dead.
Jo sat on her father’s stool in the Crab Hole, hoping that no one with initials “H” and “I” showed up while she was here or she might never escape. It was cre
