Emery rushed home after work that night. Her dad had insisted on coming over. She thought a neutral restaurant would be better, but he refused to lose the argument.
She slammed the door behind her and threw her bag down. The keys clanged as she threw them in the bowl on the table by the couch. Next came the kicking off of her heels, her favorite part of the day and why she usually wore sneakers to and from the metro. She’d been in too much of a hurry to get out of the office and home to clean up the apartment. She blamed Wren for that.
The night had been wilder than she expected. The man knew how to use his tongue. Mercy. She didn’t have a single regret about what happened when her underwear came off, except for that whisper of frustration that came in wishing he’d stayed. That he would have let go of some of his control and let her take the lead.
But enjoying that side of Wren and not being embarrassed about how much she enjoyed the hours didn’t mean she wanted to accidentally announce what happened to her dad. That meant she needed to figure out where her clothes had landed as Wren undressed her last night.
She scurried around the space, sliding across the hardwood in her bare feet when she thought she saw a peek of blue under the bed.
“Got it.” She leaned down and snatched up her bra right as the doorbell rang.
Underwear. Underwear, underwear. She had no idea where the bikini underwear got to. She just had to hope they didn’t make a surprise appearance while Dad issued whatever lecture he planned on giving.
At the second set of rapid knocks, she got to the entry. A quick look through the peephole and she opened the door. Her father stood there in dress pants and a long-sleeved shirt without the sleeves rolled up, despite the sweat-inducing humidity. “Hi, Dad.”
He didn’t move. “You’re out of breath.”
Always the champion of fun conversation, her father didn’t disappoint this time either. “I just got home.”
She backed up so that he could pass in front of her. As usual, he glanced around her apartment with a look of confusion on his face. He had the whole furrowed-brow-sighing thing down. She never knew if it was the general look of just about to tip into chaos that upset him or the fact she rented, which he found financially irresponsible. Either way, him coming here only heightened an already tense situation.
His gaze fell on the stack of boxes. Her copies of all the material she could find about Tiffany’s case. “Is all this necessary?”
Emery sighed but somehow managed to keep the sound inside. “It’s easier to keep the material in boxes than spread it all over the floor.”
He sat down on the edge of the love seat. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“This topic got us into trouble just a few days ago.”
“That’s what I’m here to talk with you about.” He gestured toward the chair across from him. “Sit.”
Never mind that it was her chair and her apartment and she’d paid for everything in it without his help. Money led to strings, and she never wanted to be in the position of owing her father anything. The relationship was rocky enough without adding in that factor.
Still, she’d stomped away from him the last time they met. He deserved it, but she’d long ago figured out capitulation on the easy stuff made her feel less guilty about how frustrated she got with him about everything else. “I’m sorry I walked out on our dinner.”
He waved off her halfhearted apology. “I get that you’re emotional about this subject.”
“The subject of my cousin and best friend being missing for more than a decade? Yeah, it makes me cranky.” Like right now. Just a few sentences in and anxiety churned in her stomach.
“Cousin and childhood friend. The two of you were already moving apart, and I’m telling you her father was about to send her away to school.”
“That’s not—”
“Believe it or not, Emery. I’m not here to fight with you.”
Certainly sounded like he was. The talking-over-her thing was a big clue. And it sounded as if he’d come loaded with all the same arguments. The ones sure to send her anger spiking. But she would play along. He deserved that much respect. “Why are you here?”
“I think it’s time I stepped in.” He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. “I am going to hire a specialist to come on board, take over all of this and provide us with a fresh look at Tiffany’s disappearance.”
Emery knew it killed him to say that last part. He was absolutely convinced Tiffany had run away and he blamed her for driving her own father to an early death. Her father had a habit of blaming the victim for not being careful enough, or in the wrong place, or with the wrong people. He did it while talking about things he’d heard on the news. He did it the few times she’d tried to talk about her work with him. She learned early not to do that again.