Gage
Driving to the restaurant, I spend half the time looking at the road and the other half checking on her. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I will be.”
At the pizza place, we line up to order. I watch and listen to Daisy order her pizza, and then it’s my turn. The line goes quickly. I pay for both of us, hand her a cup for her drink, and locate a table near the back. Luckily we missed the dinner rush, so the restaurant is pretty dead. Once we’ve got our pizza, which is as good as she promised, I ask, “What happened?”
“My relationship with my father is… complicated.”
I keep eating, not wanting to interrupt her.
“I got home last night to find my father had come in and taken my stuff.”
“What do you mean? What stuff?” I look at her and realize she’s still wearing the clothes from last night.
“Clothes, computer, toiletries, things like that.” She scoffs. “He even took my sheets, blankets, pillows, and towels.”
What the hell is that asshole doing? “Why?”
“He said it’s because he’s worried about me living across from a murder scene.”
“He’s right. It’s not the safest place to live until we catch our killer.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “He doesn’t care. My dad’s playing a game with me.”
“What kind of game?”
“He’s trying to control me. To get me to move back in with him so he can control who I see.” She looks at me pointedly. “I found a camera hidden in a bobblehead in my apartment.”
What the hell? He’s surveilling her? “You think he was watching you?”
“I do. Everything’s in his name: the apartment, my car, my cell phone—heck, my bank account. Because I refused to move home, he cut off the phone and my debit card, and my car’s gone.”
That doesn’t sound like something a concerned father would do. He’s basically cut off her ability to run away or even reach out for help.
“So, what are you going to do?”
She shrugs. “I’ve got some other things in the works. I’m not broke or anything. I was smart and put money away in another account.”
“Is it enough to—”
“It’s enough,” she says angrily.
Since we each ordered individual pizzas, I finish mine first, most likely due to the fact that she’s been doing most of the talking, plus she’s only picking at her pizza. “Well, until you figure things out, why don’t you stay with me?” I offer, wiping my mouth with a napkin.
“No.” she shakes her head. “That would be—”
“That would be perfect.” I smile at her. “I’ve got a nice spare bedroom all set up.”
She shakes her head again.
“You’d be doing me a solid, really.”
“Oh yeah?” Her eyes are red, and her pretty nose is a little puffy, but she still nails the smirk. “How so?”
“Well, I’ll be working late a lot, and you’d be, in essence, house sitting. You could keep Pepper company.” Unless she’s still afraid of my cat.
“Won’t you get into trouble?”
