Jess looked at the officer, certain he had debated in his head how best to tell her, his hesitation obvious. He had tact in some ways, this man. She had not wanted to know, had said as much, and he had obliged. But, needs must, and now she'd heard it.
"Jesus," she swore, nudging Wally forward again, Champ locking his steps automatically. "Who in hell would do that? Some deal gone bad? Was my dad a criminal?"
The lieutenant said nothing, but hung his head a moment, hesitating again. He had told her that her father was dead, shot. Then, when prodded, had added that he lost his life in some freak mass shooting at the plastics factory. That he had been that close to her made her angry, and that this was the way she found out, even angrier.
"Well? Lieutenant?" she snapped, her frustration getting the better of her.
His sorrow was evident on his face. Gone was the professional demeanor. He ran a hand down his face and shook his head. She felt as if he was rehearsing in his head the next line and her heart sped up.
"It was a woman, which is not the normal M.O. of a shooter like this. We're not sure yet the true motive behind all of it, our profilers are still gathering evidence. I'm... We're hoping you can help us identify her. When she faced your father down and shot him—" he said, but stopped, his face breaking it's calm to show the stress he was obviously trying very hard to hide.
"Just spit it out. I'm not a child, I won't break," she told him.
"According to witnesses, she was screaming your name, Miss Nichols. That's how we were able to find your connection to him," he finished, then looked away, over his other shoulder, his Adam's apple bobbing.
She sat in stunned silence for a moment, listening to the cadence of the horse's hoof beats on the gravel road, the far off twittering of a band of swallows in formation, dive bombing the ground. Champ snorted and jingled the bit in his mouth, bobbing his head, scenting home around the corner. Each sound reverberated in crystal clarity, bouncing off of her and echoing, scribing themselves to her memory. She felt numb except for her mind repeating his statement over and over in her head, to make sense of it. She took a breath, then another one. Shakily, she combed fingers through Wally's short mane.
"Miss Nichols?" the lieutenant asked, touching her shoulder. "Should we stop?"
She waved him off, snapping back to reality and her escort. Now was not the time to act like a damned fool girl, and she took a deep breath in and out. "No, no. Just a lot to take in all at once, that's all. I haven't seen him or talked to him in seventeen years, this seems a bit—" She shrugged, words escaping her.
"I understand. We can discuss this more when we get back. We're almost there now," he replied, and took his hand away from her shoulder, moving a restless Champ up to a jog, the back of the ranch barns with the sun breaking through to spotlight them coming into view.
She clicked her tongue, and Wally followed suit, breaking into the easy-as-pie cadence she loved so much. It was going to be a long day, so for those few moments before they reached the yard, she took simple pleasure in her horse and the peace surrounding them.