“I’m going to have to redraw the entire book, aren’t I?”

“I’ll e-mail you a new script in a day or two.”

“Yeah. How’s your dad?”

She let out a sigh. “I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Well, good luck.”

“Thanks.”

She clicked off her phone and rubbed her eyes.

The Tastee-Freez where she’d spent so much time in high school was gone, the ice cream cone sign on its pole dismantled. Nothing had moved in to replace it. The hokey ice cream stand had been the only place to hang out, unless one of your friends had a car to drive into Pueblo, an hour away. More kids must have had cars these days. Or Hopes Fort had fewer kids.

Since high school, she’d only been back here for holidays, when the town was at its bleakest. No wonder it always depressed her. But maybe she wasn’t being fair.

Halfway down Main Street, a cop had set up a roadblock: a single hazard barricade pulled into the middle of the pavement. The one officer manning the checkpoint climbed out of the car, which was parked on the curb, and held up his hand, directing her to slow down.

Smiling, she stopped and rolled down her window. “Well, Officer. You got me.”

“Evie Walker? Hell, it’s been years!”

He wore a starched blue uniform, but the blond crew cut and bulky shoulders were the same. Johnny Brewster had been a linebacker in high school. He’d gotten a little rounder in the middle since then.

“Who thought giving you a badge was a good idea?”

“Me and some of the guys had a little too much to drink and drew straws. I got the short one.”