Wren kept inching closer to her father. She tried to shove him aside. When that didn’t work, the desperation to get through to the man who never heard her crushed her. “Dad, listen to him. Please.”
“You can make this right, Michael.” Wren kept up the placating tone. His soothing voice floated through the strangling tension in the room.
“You don’t understand.” He father shook his head. “Tiffany . . .” He visibly swallowed as his voice trailed off. “I told her to stay away from you and she laughed at me. That stupid little girl fucking laughed at me. Told me how you wanted to meet Tyler at night and she’d help you break out and away from me.”
Wren nodded. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” Her father’s eyes were wild. The hand with the gun lowered, but he didn’t drop it. A haze seemed to cloud his vision as he stared blankly, as if lost in the memory. “She came at me and I pushed her. That’s all.”
“But she fell, right?” Wren took another step.
“I shook her and her head whipped back. She barely hit the pavement . . . it didn’t make any sense.” The gun pointed at the floor now.
The horror of the crime scene photos hit Emery. She’d forced herself to look at them and then could never erase them from her mind. “The blood at the scene.”
“What did you do with her, Michael?” Wren reached out, slow and steady, and put his hand on the gun. “Tell me.”
She held her breath. When her father didn’t fight, she let it out again. A flash, some movement by the door, caught her eye. Then she saw the lights from the police car outside.
The cavalry had arrived. Wren likely brought it with him.
Her father looked smaller now. He curled in on himself. “I threw her away. Took her to the school. There’s a furnace with this conveyor belt.”
“Okay, Michael.” Rick moved up behind her dad. Put his hands on the other man’s shoulders and nodded to Wren.
Her father shook his head. “Detective Cryer?”
“He killed her.” It was all she could say as she watched Wren slip the gun out of her father’s fingers.
She repeated it. The words echoed in her head as the police officers streamed in. She heard their radios and the shouting. People talked and the sound of the police sirens finally registered in her brain. Detective Cryer restrained her father and someone read him his rights.
Wren was there, holding her up. “I won’t ask if you’re okay.”
She said the first thing that came into her head. “I’m never going to be okay again.”
An hour passed. Law enforcement officials filed in and out but still filled the room. There was a forensic team on-site now and police officers walking around. Some took photos and others searched the house. Emery just sat there on the coffee table and stared at the floor.
Wren ached for her. He was willing to do anything to ease her pain. He’d called in Caroline, thinking Emery needed a friend now. Garrett came over. She didn’t acknowledge any of them or any of the people walking around or the news vans collecting on the street outside.
He wanted to go to her. Hold her. Say whatever she needed to hear to wipe the sharpness of the pain away. But he knew it didn’t work like that. She’d mourn and fight off bouts of fury that she thought might destroy her. Guilt like she’d never known would cripple her.
He’d been there. He knew the steps and each one brought a new round of doubt and confusion. Why hadn’t she known? Why did it take this long? Did she know her father at all? Those were just some of the questions that would bombard her brain, but there would be other issues. Debilitating loneliness. So much pain.
Someone wrapped a blanket around her as she sat there with Rick by her side. He had a hand on her back and was whispering something to her. Something Wren couldn’t hear. Likely words of comfort.
Wren thought about leaving, going outside and getting some air. He took one step when Garrett’s hand landed on his shoulder.
“You okay?” Gone was his usual amusement and ability to make a joke out of anything. The strain of the moment showed on his face.
Wren figured he wore a similar expression. But the truth was what he felt didn’t matter. “No.”
“I hear you tried to get yourself shot today.”
“Better me than her.” He would have taken the bullets and fought off her father. Whatever it took to keep her safe.
Garrett glanced at Emery and exhaled. “Go tell her.”
“What the hell do I say?” There wasn’t a card for this. No words could make this better. And he was not the one she turned to for comfort. Not after last night.
“That you love her.” Garrett shook his head. “Damn, man. You should see your face. You look . . . I don’t know, broken, maybe?”
Wren didn’t feel anything. “I’m the one who delivered the news about who her father really was. I’m pretty much the enemy.”
“He’s the one who did this to Tiffany, to Emery. Not you.”
It was a logical argument, but Wren knew it wouldn’t work. He started to move again. This time he would go outside . . . but his legs didn’t listen.
He walked up to Emery and glanced at Rick. “Hey.”