gunpowder, her father’s smile and her mother’s open arms.
“We lived in Philadelphia, Riley. That girl’s death is no coincidence. It can’t be.” The words she wanted to say bottled up in her throat, burning as she thought them. Oh my God, what did my parents do? What were they involved in? Who am I?
He touched her shoulder, and she backed away. She didn’t want his comfort. His pity. Swallowing away the unspoken questions, she opened the box of bullets. Loaded the gun’s clip then tested its weight, its balance. Just like the one she’d learned on.
“It’s perfect.”
Dammit.
Riley watched Callah coldly test the gun, smile, then pronounce it perfect. Not even trying to wipe away those tears running down her face.
“Callah.” He stepped toward her again, but she shook her head.
“Don’t.”
Her voice broke and he decided he’d ask forgiveness later. Ignoring her command he took the gun away from her, set it on the counter and pulled her close. Because no way could he let her stand there crying.
“I’m sorry, Callah.” He spoke the words into her daisy-scented hair.
She didn’t pull away, just stood there rigid against him, letting him hold her. “Me too, Riley. I’m sorry you got dragged into this whole mess.”
For a moment he met her eyes, thought about kissing her the way she seemed to want to be kissed. But if he did, if he gave in and touched her lips with his, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. They had too much to do, too much to figure out for that kind of break. Later, maybe. But not now.
Calling himself a colossal fool, he stepped away from her, watched her wipe the tears away with an angry swipe. “Don’t be sorry for that, Callah. I don’t know why someone sent me to you, but I’m going to find out.”
She smiled, but the warmth was gone. “ We’re going to find out. I want answers. And you’re the perfect person to help me find them.”
Callah picked up the folder, emptied the contents onto the table and forced herself to look at them. She ran her hand over the aged photo and tried to make sense of it all. Her birth certificate looked authentic enough, but her father certainly had connections. He could have faked it. But why?
She flipped the paper over, read the message again. Secrets can be deadly. That certainly made the dog walker and the photos ominous. But why come after her now? She closed her eyes and tried to remember, but nothing stood out. Nothing more than normal childhood nightmares.
Why? Where did nightmares end and memories start? She couldn’t remember.
God, this was driving her crazy.
She sat on the barstool, searching her mind for a memory. Just one. Riley watched her like she might break any second, and she wanted to laugh. Surely he realized by now she wasn’t going to lose it. Her father had raised her better than that.
Her father. How could he have lied to her?
“Did your brother say he’d be able to reach my dad?”
Riley looked concerned as he nodded. “Yeah. It might take a while, but he’ll find him.”
She nodded. Tried to grasp this new reality. The truth that her parents had kept secrets that could destroy her and now Riley.
“My earliest memory isn’t all that strange.” She wished she could find that sense of safety she remembered so well. “It was Sunday night. After church. I fell asleep in the backseat, but when the car stopped I woke up. I didn’t want to be awake, so I pretended to still be asleep. My dad knew, but he didn’t care. He picked me up and carried me inside and tucked me in and called me his angel. He always smelled like Old Spice and liquid starch. The pink kind my mom sprayed on his uniforms when she ironed.”
Her voice broke on the word angel but she held out her hand when Riley moved toward her. “Don’t. I mean it Riley. Don’t.” She couldn’t handle his gentle touch. Not now.
This time he stayed where he was and let her finish talking. Funny how badly she needed to say the
“We lived in Philadelphia, Riley. That girl’s death is no coincidence. It can’t be.” The words she wanted to say bottled up in her throat, burning as she thought them. Oh my God, what did my parents do? What were they involved in? Who am I?
He touched her shoulder, and she backed away. She didn’t want his comfort. His pity. Swallowing away the unspoken questions, she opened the box of bullets. Loaded the gun’s clip then tested its weight, its balance. Just like the one she’d learned on.
“It’s perfect.”
Dammit.
Riley watched Callah coldly test the gun, smile, then pronounce it perfect. Not even trying to wipe away those tears running down her face.
“Callah.” He stepped toward her again, but she shook her head.
“Don’t.”
Her voice broke and he decided he’d ask forgiveness later. Ignoring her command he took the gun away from her, set it on the counter and pulled her close. Because no way could he let her stand there crying.
“I’m sorry, Callah.” He spoke the words into her daisy-scented hair.
She didn’t pull away, just stood there rigid against him, letting him hold her. “Me too, Riley. I’m sorry you got dragged into this whole mess.”
For a moment he met her eyes, thought about kissing her the way she seemed to want to be kissed. But if he did, if he gave in and touched her lips with his, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. They had too much to do, too much to figure out for that kind of break. Later, maybe. But not now.
Calling himself a colossal fool, he stepped away from her, watched her wipe the tears away with an angry swipe. “Don’t be sorry for that, Callah. I don’t know why someone sent me to you, but I’m going to find out.”
She smiled, but the warmth was gone. “ We’re going to find out. I want answers. And you’re the perfect person to help me find them.”
Callah picked up the folder, emptied the contents onto the table and forced herself to look at them. She ran her hand over the aged photo and tried to make sense of it all. Her birth certificate looked authentic enough, but her father certainly had connections. He could have faked it. But why?
She flipped the paper over, read the message again. Secrets can be deadly. That certainly made the dog walker and the photos ominous. But why come after her now? She closed her eyes and tried to remember, but nothing stood out. Nothing more than normal childhood nightmares.
Why? Where did nightmares end and memories start? She couldn’t remember.
God, this was driving her crazy.
She sat on the barstool, searching her mind for a memory. Just one. Riley watched her like she might break any second, and she wanted to laugh. Surely he realized by now she wasn’t going to lose it. Her father had raised her better than that.
Her father. How could he have lied to her?
“Did your brother say he’d be able to reach my dad?”
Riley looked concerned as he nodded. “Yeah. It might take a while, but he’ll find him.”
She nodded. Tried to grasp this new reality. The truth that her parents had kept secrets that could destroy her and now Riley.
“My earliest memory isn’t all that strange.” She wished she could find that sense of safety she remembered so well. “It was Sunday night. After church. I fell asleep in the backseat, but when the car stopped I woke up. I didn’t want to be awake, so I pretended to still be asleep. My dad knew, but he didn’t care. He picked me up and carried me inside and tucked me in and called me his angel. He always smelled like Old Spice and liquid starch. The pink kind my mom sprayed on his uniforms when she ironed.”
Her voice broke on the word angel but she held out her hand when Riley moved toward her. “Don’t. I mean it Riley. Don’t.” She couldn’t handle his gentle touch. Not now.
This time he stayed where he was and let her finish talking. Funny how badly she needed to say the
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