A Father's Quest Read Online Free PDF

cards. I don’t predict the future. And I don’t see dead people.”
    Jonas was still trying to collect his highly valued, completely absent equanimity, so before he could respond, she added, “If you want to know where someone is buried, call a cadaver dog.”
    The thought made a chill run down his spine. “But you do find people. You found me.”
    Her green eyes narrowed with anger or frustration, he couldn’t tell which. Whatever emotion it was, she felt it passionately. A memory of kissing her jumped into his brain and wouldn’t leave. They’d come within a single layer of silk panties from consummating their feelings for each other. And they’d set the date for that, too. Until her mother intervened.
    “So everybody says,” she snapped. “But the only person who really knows for sure what happened that day at the beauty parlor is dead.”
    Her mother. Marlene Bouchard, the woman he considered the Machiavelli of Baylorville. He’d read the obit online.
    “And like I said, I don’t have a direct line to the great beyond.” She paused and gave him a serious look, her lips pressed together. “Is that why you’re here? To talk to someone who has crossed over? Oh, my God, your mother—”
    “No. Mom’s still with us…more or less.”
    She put a hand to her breast. She looked relieved. This was more like the Remy he remembered. Kind and concerned about people. Nice. Jessie was the fly-off-the-handle kind of person. Touchy.
    “So, why are you here?”
    A reasonable question.
    “My daughter is missing. I need your help to find her.”
    There. A reasonable answer. Simple. A small favor for an old friend.
    Remy took a step back. Could she read the desperation and fear he tried his level best to keep pushed way, way down below the surface? She’d been good at reading him. Did she guess how close he was to losing it?
    “I’m sorry to hear that, Jonas. Really, I am. But I can’t help you. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
    No. That was not the truthful answer. She could help but was choosing not to. Was this a way to pay him back for running away when her mother sabotaged their lives?
    “She’s only seven. She’s in trouble. I can feel it. Please, Remy, don’t punish Birdie because you hate me.”
    “Hate?” she repeated softly.
    She turned, as if preparing to run or call for help. He didn’t blame her. He probably sounded crazy. Desperate. He was both. He stepped in her path to block her escape and grabbed both her arms. Partly to steady himself. Partly to beg for her help.
    “Jonas, let go of me. Stop. What—”
    He pulled her to him, hard. As though she was the last person standing in a fight to the death. To let go would mean giving up everything he’d fought so hard to hold on to. He couldn’t…not now.
    He put his mouth close to her ear and whispered, “My little girl is missing. Something bad is going to happen. I know it. You’re the one person in the world I didn’t think I’d have to explain that to. Please, Rem, please. Help me.”
    “Holy moly,” a voice exclaimed. “Jonas, let her go. Did you forget something? Like the fact you guys are related?”

    R EMY HEARD HER SISTER’S voice. She couldn’t quite make out the words, though, because her head was reeling from a lack of oxygen. And she hoped panic—not the fact that the breath in her lungs evaporated the moment Jonas touched her—was to blame for her giddiness. Even after Jonas let go of her and dropped his arms, Remy struggled to remember how to breathe.
    “Rem,” Jessie said, taking her arm. “Are you okay? You’re white as a ghost. Let’s go inside and sit down. What did he do to you? One minute you’re yelling at the neighbors and the next you’re making out with him.”
    Remy put the brakes on, glancing over her shoulder at Jonas. He looked so lost, shell-shocked and helpless. Her heart twisted in a way she hadn’t felt since she watched her mother pass away.
    “No. We didn’t. He didn’t.” She