Emery refused to move out of his way as she pivoted to take her seat. Sure, it was childish, but food was the last thing on her mind at the moment. “She didn’t deserve to die.”
He turned away from her. Glanced at her as he walked back to the counter and picked up the side dishes. “I didn’t say she did.”
She stepped in front of him again because he needed to stop moving around and just talk to her. “Did Uncle Gavin believe she ran away? Because he never said that. He fought for her, looked for her, until the end.”
Her father reached around her and set the platters down before taking his seat at the head of the table. “Gavin was obsessed just as you’re obsessed. His came from guilt. I’m not sure where yours comes from, but the obsession must stop.”
“That’s not fair.” The word grated across her nerves. Others had used it. Tyler, the friend who grew up with them. The same boy who had professed undying love for Tiffany and kissed her right before she vanished. The detective. Caroline never said it, no one at work did, but Emery wondered if they thought it, too.
“I buried my best friend and I will not bury my only child.” Her dad pulled out the chair with a bit too much strength and the legs left the floor. He lowered it to the hardwood again without scraping against the floor. “End of story.”
She knew he actually believed that would stop the conversation. Because he said so. But this was not his classroom and she was no longer twelve and afraid of his temper. “What do you think is going to happen to me?”
“It’s already happened. It’s starting to look as if this is not a passing interest. That you’re never going to move on.” He leaned back in his chair as if daring her to deny it. “You live in the past. Even now you’re bringing this subject up over dinner.”
“We need to talk about her. We need to have answers.” She did. Down to her soul. The guilt. The not knowing. Waking up every day thinking Tiffany could be one of those poor women chained to a bed somewhere in some sick bastard’s basement, unable to get out.
The horrible possibilities ate at Emery. Stole her sense of security. Some days it warped her until she feared she was losing her mind. The desperate searching for an age-progressed version of Tiffany’s face in the files at work never ended. Without finding her—without knowing the truth—it never would.
“We need to eat dinner.” He picked up the serving dish with the chicken and slid a portion to his plate.
She kept her fingers locked on the back of the chair. “Dad.”
“I am done with this topic.” He didn’t even look up as he snapped his napkin open and laid it across his lap. “Sit.”
The quiet thundered in her ears, broken only by the sound of the clinking of his silverware. She glanced around at the familiar space, the all-white kitchen and crisp navy drapes outlining the door to the back patio. The house should bring her comfort, but being here only made her long to get out again.
And she could. She wasn’t a kid anymore. The hold her dad had on her snapped a long time ago.
She pushed back from the chair. “No thanks.”
He put down his fork. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m not hungry.” Her stomach had turned over and flipped inside out. The idea of food made her want to hurl.
“Don’t be juvenile.” He gestured toward her usual chair. “Sit down and eat.”
“That’s the great thing about being almost twenty-five, Dad. I decide when I eat.”
All emotion left his face. He treated her to a blank stare. “I expect better of you.”
“Yeah, well. Chalk it up as one more disappointment.” She had a hard time catching her breath. She wanted to scream and cry and swear. None of those would move him and that would only make her emotions explode even more. “That’s what I do, right?”
“I am not going to engage in this ridiculous debate.” With that he picked up his fork and started eating carrots.
She just couldn’t think of anything related to finding Tiffany as ridiculous. “Enjoy your dinner.”
CHAPTER 9
Wren waited two whole days before going back to the coffee shop. Not exactly a cause for congratulations. He spent the time doing what he needed to do—work—and gathering all the intel he could on Tiffany. The latter took him down a hole that he had some difficulty crawling out of.