Strong Enough(19)

“It’s okay. You can ask that. And the answer is that I can’t be absolutely positive, I don’t suppose, but he’s put some things in place to where if something happened to him, I’d be notified. So at least I know for sure that his body hasn’t turned up somewhere.” I swallow the lump that swells in my throat.

Jasper’s silence carries with it all the insecurities and appalling thoughts that I’ve purposely held at bay, things like the fact that people disappear all the time and their bodies are never found. But he at least has the good grace not to say them.

“Maybe he’s sick,” Jasper finally says. “I mean, if he has . . . pneumonia or something, would he call from the hospital?”

I smile at his choice of illnesses. I guess he didn’t want to make matters worse by suggesting a terrible car accident that has left him in a coma, or a brain tumor that has robbed him of his memory, something along those lines. Not that any of those possibilities would be a surprise to me. I think I’ve gone through every worst-case scenario on the planet.

“No, he wouldn’t do that, but . . .”

“Maybe it’ll help you to know that I found an electric bill your dad paid recently. It was on a credit card that he hasn’t used in years and the address was for an apartment in Atlanta. Do you know anything about that?”

An apartment in Atlanta? What the hell?

I frown. “No, I don’t. But why would he . . . I mean . . . ?”

“I can’t tell you the why, but I can get you there and you can ask him yourself. How’s that?”

Although now I’ve got more questions, relief washes through me. The payment of a bill isn’t concrete evidence that he’s okay, but it’s pretty damn close. Plus, now that I think about it, this sooo sounds like a Plan B my father might have. He’d hide out in some obscure place and wait until I found him. And he knows I would. The Colonel knows that I’d come looking for him and that if I got someone good enough to help me look, eventually I’d find my way to him.

I don’t even bother to ask Jasper how he accessed my father’s credit card information. Something tells me I don’t want to know. Not that he’d tell me anyway. That would be far too civil and forthcoming for a man like him.

“You two are close, it seems.”

Close, it seems. I love the way Jasper talks. He doesn’t use much slang, doesn’t curse much. It’s like he’s too controlled, too . . . precise to take the lazy way out. His voice is very cultured, too, which strikes me as odd for a bounty hunter. But still, it suits him. On anyone else it might seem out of place, but somehow it fits this complex man.

He’s got this chameleon-like way about him. It’s as though, despite his incredible good looks and a presence so big it could practically suffocate you, he could be anyone from anywhere doing anything. Just Anonymous Joe, someone simply passing through, slipping by under the radar. In a way, it seems like life couldn’t find a box for Jasper, a label or a type, so he made his own.

“Yeah, I suppose we are,” I finally say in answer to his observation.

“You never mention a mother.”

I’m inordinately pleased that Jasper is finally engaging in some sort of polite conversation, even though “polite” might not be the best way to describe it. It feels more like an obligatory interrogation, but I’ll take it. I’ll take any excuse to talk about my father, to keep him first in my thoughts, which I never dreamed would be a challenge. Doing it with Jasper is just icing on the cake. I imagine that doing anything with Jasper would be a pleasure.

When my cheeks warm, I focus on the conversation to keep my mind off . . . other things.

“She left when I was little.”

“Left?”

“Yep. She just left.”

“Have you ever tried to find her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“If she didn’t want us then she doesn’t deserve us.”

Jasper nods with his humph. “I get that.”

“My father never encouraged it either, which I guess I always took as his way of saying that I didn’t really want to know. So I’ve never looked. Don’t plan to either.”

There’s a short pause, but he keeps the conversation going, which thrills me. If only it hadn’t gone in this direction.

“What about this boyfriend-slash-coworker of your father’s?”

“What about him?”

“Tell me about him. Maybe he could help me find your dad.”

I take a deep breath. I really don’t want to discuss Matt with Jasper, but . . . I don’t think I have much choice. Because Jasper could be right. Matt might know something, even if it’s something little.