“Left my cell,” he muttered and moved to the counter while Clarisse watched.
Now what did she do? First, she’d taken the call and her Dad would get ticked at that. Then she’d deleted the call from his history and she didn’t know why she did it so she couldn’t explain it to him. And since she had, she couldn’t give him the woman called Dusty’s message.
Her Dad tagged his phone and turned to her.
“You hittin’ the homework?” he asked.
“Just gettin’ brain food,” she lied.
He grinned at her before he tagged her with a hand behind her head and yanked her so she did a face plant into his chest. She felt his body bow as he bent and kissed the top of her head.
She loved it when he did that. Mom never did anything like that. No kept telling Clarisse that Mom loved them just as much as Dad, she just wasn’t as good at showing it. Clarisse didn’t believe that. If you loved someone, you found a way to show it so the person you loved knew it.
Her Dad let her go and started to move away, murmuring, “Be back around quarter after five, five thirty.”
“Dad,” she called, he stopped in the kitchen door and looked at her.
She didn’t know what to say. If she said what she should, he’d get angry. She liked her Dad loving on her, not angry at her.
“Reesee, honey, I gotta go. You got somethin’ to say?” he prompted.
“Uh…what do you want for dinner?”
His head tipped to the side and his brows drew together.
“You cookin’?”
She hated to cook. No loved it but made a mess that she had to clean up if he cooked so she hated No to cook too.
Still, if you loved someone, you found ways to show it and her Dad worked hard. She knew he took overtime a lot because they needed the money seeing as he was raising two kids on his own. But he’d always done that. Before they broke up, she heard her Mom and Dad fighting about it more than once. Mom up in his face about never being home, Dad reminding Mom that he took the overtime the other detectives didn’t want because he had to pay Mom’s bills. She wasn’t supposed to hear this but she did because she left her room and sat in the hall outside theirs and listened. It wasn’t hard to hear her Mom, even all the way back in Clarisse’s room. Mom was loud anyway but she also shouted a lot. But if Clarisse wanted to hear Dad, she had to sit outside their room since he talked quiet.
He still took overtime. Not as much but he took it. He shouldn’t have to come home and cook most nights.
“Uh…sure,” she told Dad.
He grinned.
She’d done good.
“Me and No’ll eat whatever you make, sweetheart.”
“Mac and cheese and hot dogs?” she asked.
“Sounds perfect,” he said softly.
She smiled at him.
“Homework, Reesee,” he reminded her then, “See you soon.”
“Bye, Dad.”
“Bye, beautiful.”
He left. She grabbed brain food and a pop and went directly to her Dad’s office to switch on the computer. Then she went to her room to get her books and drag them to the office. Layla followed her throughout her movements and then settled on her side by the desk chair in the office while Clarisse got down to work.
She was done with her homework and had the pasta in the water by the time he got home.
*
Thursday late evening…
Mike listened to the phone ring but didn’t have a lot of hope.
This was his ninth call since Tuesday morning. He hadn’t called any of her other numbers because he knew she was busy and if she was in her shed or at the gallery, he’d disturb her. He’d only called her cell.
Now it was ten his time, nine hers and he’d just got no answer on her cell so was trying her house.
And he was trying not to have a knee-jerk reaction and think she was playing games. Since divorcing Audrey, he’d found that bullshit missed calls and ignoring voicemails were games women liked to play. Games of the heart. Games he’d learned the hard way not to play.
“Hello?”
She answered.
He made an effort to control his temper.
“Dusty,” he replied.
“Finally!”
He blinked at his cocked knees. He was sitting in nothing but pajama bottoms, back to the headboard in his bed.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“That’s what I’ve been wanting to know from you for three days.”
“What?”
“Dusty, I’ve called nine times and left four voicemails.”
“Oh, honey, God. I’m sorry. I lost my cell phone. Didn’t Clarisse tell you?”
His neck got tight.
“Clarisse?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah. I lost my cell and didn’t have any of your numbers memorized. Hunter only has your cell. So I called it yesterday. Clarisse answered and I gave her a message. Told her to ask you to call me on the home phone or at the shed.”
“Reesee answered my cell?”
Dusty was silent.
“Dusty,” he called. “My daughter answered my cell?”
“If I say yes, are you gonna get pissed at your girl?”
“Uh…yeah.”
“Then I decline to answer.”