My 6-year-old granddaughter phoned me in panic just after midnight. “Mommy says the baby is coming! Help!” I asked, “Where’s daddy?” She answered, “He k!cked mommy’s tummy and left.”…..

June Callaway was behind the bar polishing glasses with mechanical precision. She was probably 45 with auburn hair pulled back in a practical ponytail and sharp green eyes that evaluated Harry as he approached. Her movements had the efficiency of someone who’d spent years dealing with drunks, creeps, and troublemakers. You’re Harry Kane, she said before he could introduce himself.

Heard about your daughter. Sorry, news travels fast. Small town. Bad news travels faster. She said down the glass and leaned against the bar. What can I do for you? I understand you know Trent Huxley. Jun’s expression went carefully neutral. A lot of people know Trent. He’s what you might call a local personality.

I’m told you dated him. Ancient history. before he got married, before he got worse. She studied Harry’s face. You planning some kind of intervention? Because I already tried that once. Nearly got my teeth knocked out for the effort. No intervention, Harry said. I’m planning something else entirely. June was quiet for a long moment, sizing him up.