This was a mission Walter Deaver seldom had to perform, and one he didn’t look forward to, particularly in this case. Jack Reed didn’t have any family to notify except his little girl, who was only maybe thirteen. Lori’s mother had died of cancer several years before, and Jack was all the child had. At thirteen, a little girl badly needed her father—in Lori’s case, even a father in prison was better than no father at all. Jack Reed wasn’t a troublemaker, a long way from it. This was his first offense and, Deaver would be willing to bet, would be his last scrape with the law once he was out. In Deaver’s view, Reed shouldn’t be in prison at all but should get a medal for what he’d done. But then, he didn’t make the laws. Reluctantly he picked up the phone, not wanting to relay this news. Hoping, in the days to come, not to have to bear worse news, although Reed’s condition was critical. If Jack Reed died, the child would have no one. Except, of course, her guardian, Cora Lee French.
