Moving like a sleepwalker, Nic shuffled up her front steps, past the overgrown camellia. Pink-tipped buds were already showing. She needed to trim it back, but just thinking about it made her feel even more exhausted. She was so tired. So tired. The string of eighteen-hour days was catching up with her. And now, with Chris Sorenson claiming that it hadn't been Congressman Glover's voice on the phone, it felt like she couldn't even put the Jim Fate case to bed. Plus, there was the little matter of Cassidy's Somulex addiction. Sometimes Cassidy got on her nerves, but seeing her so vulnerable had touched something inside Nic.
Letting herself inside the house, she locked the door behind her. With the alarm beeping, she hurried to the back of the house and entered the code on the control panel next to the back door. She left the alarm off, because Makayla would be home soon. In her bedroom, Nic took off her jacket and unbuckled her holster. She put her gun in the safe on her closet shelf, and then set her keys, handcuffs, and badge on the bureau.
She looked longingly at the double bed that no man had ever slept in. She should probably eat before she went to bed, but it seemed like too much trouble. And Mama would have fed Makayla before bringing her home.
She was taking off her jacket when she heard the front door open and her daughter cry out. Just one word, but it held a bottomless well of terror and fear.
"Mama!"
Nic ran out into the hall, her stockinged feet slipping on the oak floor. In the living room, a tall white guy was holding her daughter's shoulder in one hand. In his other hand he held a gun. Nic identified it as a SIG Sauer. And, though she hadn't seen him in nearly ten years, she identified the guy holding it as Donny Miller.
"She's tall like me," he observed.
The words flew out of Nic's mouth before she could weigh their wisdom. "She is nothing at all like you." Her blood ran hot in her veins. She wanted to take each finger that was touching her daughter and snap it off like a stick.
"Mama, he shoved the door open as I was locking it," Makayla said, as if she would get in trouble.
Miller pushed Makayla toward Nic. Nic's rage turned to ice. Her daughter ran to her and wrapped both arms around Nic's waist, pressing her head against her chest. Shaking so hard it was a wonder they both didn't fall over.
"Makayla, did he hurt you?" Panic gripped her as she felt Makayla tremble. But then she saw the smallest of head shakes.
A smile flitted across Miller's face. "So that's her name? Makayla Miller? That's pretty."
Makayla lifted her head a fraction. Now only her eyes moved, darting back and forth between Nic and Miller. Her green eyes. Just like Miller's.
Her mind moving at warp speed, Nic took stock. Her gun was locked in the gun safe. Her handcuffs and cell phone were on the bureau. There was a landline phone in the kitchen and another in her bedroom. The kitchen, with its lovely knives, was so far away. And even farther was the alarm panel, with one button labeled with a little blue shield that would immediately summon the police. If Miller hadn't cut the line. If he had, then neither the landline phones nor the alarm panel would work.
The only weapon left to Nic was her own body. If she could get close to him, she could attack him with her fists and elbows, knees and shins. But if she wasn't fast enough, or if she made a mistake, then there was Miller's gun. The gun that might hurt her daughter.
The chance seemed too big to take.
"I just wanted to see her," Miller said. "I'm her father, aren't I? Just like it said in those papers my lawyer got. And you've kept her from me all these years."
Nic remembered that voice now. Flat, almost affectless.
"No, you're not." Nic spit out the words. "You're nothing. You're nobody." She looked down at her daughter, still clutching her waist. She was learning the news that Nic had always dreaded giving her, but now even that was eclipsed by something more terrible.
"Go, Makayla. Go now." She pried her daughter's arms away from her. "Run out the front door to Mrs. Henderson's. And don't look back." "Don't." Miller's voice was eerily calm.
"Run!" Nic urged, giving her daughter's shoulder a little push, trying to turn her toward the door. "He won't shoot you." She knew it in her bones.
"That's right, honey." He lifted the gun and pointed it at Nic's head. "I won't shoot you. I'll shoot your mother. The woman who doesn't want to admit that I'm your daddy."
Makayla froze.
"Don't listen to him, sweetie." Nic didn't allow any fear into her voice. "Go to Mrs. Henderson's."
"Makayla," Miller said,"don't pay attention to her. I'm your daddy. Your daddy!" He attempted a smile. "And if you do exactly what I say, no one will get hurt. Because I don't want to hurt anyone. I really don't. But if you don't do what I say, then I will be forced to shoot your mom. You don't want me to do that, do you?"
Makayla said nothing, her eyes darting from Miller to the door and then back to her mother. He continued to stare at her until she finally shook her head.