He nudged me with his foot. “Answer me. Who is that?”
I pushed myself up feeling dazed. “No idea.”
“Sophie!” a male voice called out. Not Jude’s. Not Nelligan’s. “Are you ready, Sophie? You said seven o’clock.”
Was that Griffin Shipley? His face swam through my terrified brain.
“Sophie, honey! It is Thursday, right?”
Thursday. Jude went to dinner at Griff’s house on Thursdays. Jude must have been there when he got my strange texts.
I opened my mouth to yell Griff’s name, but my father clapped a hand over it. “Quiet. Who is that?” he whispered. He showed me the gun just to make his point.
“My date. Griffin Shipley. From church.”
My father gave me a sneer. “I’ll get rid of him. Don’t you fucking move. We’re not done here.”
“Sophie!” Griff called again. “Is it open?” I heard the doorknob rattle.
Cursing, my father stuck the gun in the waistband of his pants. “Who’s there?” he snarled, making it to the door just as it opened.
“Hi! You must be Sophie’s dad.” Griff’s voice had an odd, theatrical tone that wasn’t helping matters. “She and I are going to miss the movie if she doesn’t get downstairs. Hey, Soph!” he yelled.
“Sophie isn’t feeling well,” my dad tried.
“Oh, no!” he said with a cringe-worthy bellow. “Lemme just say hello to her, and we can plan it for another time.”
“No, I don’t think so…”
I wobbled to my feet and lurched around the corner so that Griff could see me. “I’m right here!” I croaked.
“Hey there, honey!” Griff took a step into the house, which was really into my father’s personal space.
“Step back!” my father said in his cop voice. “Sophie, sit the fuck down.”
“I need to talk to her,” Griff said stubbornly.
“Get out of my fucking house,” my father ordered him.
“No can do!”
Dad turned so quickly I wasn’t ready. He grabbed me around the waist with one arm while his free hand closed around my throat. “Get out,” he snarled at Griff.
There was a sudden, earsplitting crash. I fell backward, and it was just like in a bad dream. My arms were confined so I couldn’t break my fall. I landed on my father, our heads knocking together.
The pistol fired and somebody screamed.
One second after that I was rising through the air again as Griff Shipley lifted me up off the ground, leaving my father on the floor.
Behind him stood my mother, a broken lamp in her hands.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jude
When I heard the gun go off, I couldn’t stay in Griff’s truck one second longer. I threw open the door and powered up the walkway to the house. In the open doorway, Griffin sort of passed Sophie to me. The moment my arms closed around her she sagged against my body. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
“Shh, it’s okay.”
And it was. Griff dropped down to the floor and actually sat on the Chief of Police, holding down his arms so he couldn’t start swinging.
“Get the fuck off me,” the chief complained.
“No can do.”
“My weapon discharged. I’m hit.”
“You grazed your ass, I think,” Griff said. “Your wife is calling 9-1-1.”
Mrs. Haines had the phone pressed to her ear. “The chief was involved in a domestic disturbance,” she said to the dispatcher. “Send an ambulance and a county sheriff. Not one of his police officers. There’s a conflict of interest.”
“Go, Mom,” I whispered into Sophie’s ear, and she turned to me wide-eyed.
Sophie had temporarily lost the ability to speak, and she was actually shaking. So I steered her out the door and toward Griff’s truck. Lifting her gently, I set her on the passenger seat and then climbed in beside her, pulling her into my arms.
“Dad was… I got caught snooping,” she stammered.
“Okay. It’s okay now.” I rocked her.
“My mother broke a lamp over his head.”
“Your mom is a badass.”
Sentence fragments were still pouring out of her. “He pulled his gun on me! I just can’t even… What an asshole!”
“Shh, shh, shh,” I said, stroking her arm. “It’s over now.”
“Griff came to the door? I was so confused.”
“I know.” I pushed the hair off her forehead. “He wouldn’t let me do the knocking.”
“Because my father would have shot you.”
“No he wouldn’t,” I tried, just so she could calm down.
“Tonight he would’ve.” She gave a big shudder in my arms.
“Didn’t happen, though,” I whispered.
We heard a siren, and a few seconds later an ambulance pulled up behind Griff’s truck. The driver hopped out and approached us. “What’s the scenario inside?”
“The police chief’s gun discharged accidentally,” I said with a calmer voice than should have been possible. “He’s bleeding. But my friend is restraining him because he threatened his daughter with a gun earlier. And then his wife broke a lamp over his head.”
The paramedic’s eyes widened. “Should I wait for the sheriff?”