The guard came in, and Wolf was escorted to the front, where to his shock, Spencer sat with Win. They were embroiled in an intense conversation, but Wolf had no idea why Spencer had come and little time to think about it.
Win caught his eye, gave Spencer’s arm a squeeze, and left him sitting.
“What do you have?”
“I’m finished. I’ll be representing Kemp as well. We can talk later, but I think he’ll cooperate.”
“Hello to you too.” Spencer, of course, couldn’t sit still. But despite his thoughts only moments ago, Wolf was concerned with how ill Spencer looked—pale and slightly panicked.
“Hello. What’s wrong with you—are you sick? Why are you here, anyway?”
Ignoring his rapid-fire questions, Spencer faced Win. “Can I go in now?”
“Yeah. I’ll call an officer to escort you. Jelenko, come here, please.” A tall, blonde woman in uniform appeared. “Take him to see Kemp in the holding cell.”
“Sure. Follow me, sir.”
Spencer left, but no way in hell would Wolf be left standing there in the dark.
“Wait, what’s going on? Why is Spencer seeing my client?”
Spencer stopped and turned around with a smile of such bleakness, it pierced Wolf like an arrow through his heart.
“Your client, maybe. But he’s also my father.”
He hurried away to catch up with the police officer, leaving Wolf gaping like a fool, wondering why he wanted to rush to Spencer’s side and give him all the comfort he could.
Chapter Eleven
His pounding heart drowned out the noise of their footsteps as Spencer concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. If he didn’t, his legs might give out and he’d fall over.
Eighteen years old. That was his age the last time he’d seen his father, when he’d packed up his suitcase for college and walked out the door. Not a good-bye or a good-luck. No visits on parents’ day or need for a ticket for graduation.
Spencer might as well have been dead.
And now here he was, in a soulless room in a police precinct, waiting to see the man who hadn’t given him a thought in over fifteen years.
The door opened, and his father walked in, looking the same as he did when Spencer had first seen him no more than two hours earlier on Win’s phone screen. A beer belly spread out over his faded jeans, and he wore his hair, once thick and blond, in a scrawny ponytail down to his shoulders. Faded blue eyes squinted at him.
“Spencer?” The raspy voice of a thousand cigarettes still sounded the same. “Is that you?”
“Daddy.” Spencer snickered. “You recognized me. I should be thrilled I look the same as the last time we saw each other. It must be theCrème de la Mer.”
“I see you haven’t changed.”
Spencer bared his teeth in a smile. “No. Still gay. And I see you haven’t either.” He gazed deliberately around the room. “You’re exactly where I expected to find you.”
His father’s face flushed. “What’re you here for?”
Honestly, he had no fucking clue. Once the shock of seeing his father had worn off, he decided the best thing would be to go to the police station and see what trouble the man was in. Spencer didn’t know much about the legal system, but he also had no intention of bailing him out. His father could sit and rot for all he cared.
Still, he wanted to know…
“I’m friends with one of the detectives in charge, so when I heard the news, I figured I’d come down and see you. So nice to be able to visit after all these years. I’m sure you’re wondering how I’ve been doing since you last saw me when I was eighteen.” His father said nothing, and Spencer examined his fingernails. “Thanks for asking. I’m fabulous. I’m head stylist at one of the biggest boutique department stores in the city. I make great money, have tons of friends, and go to the most amazing parties. I just put on a spectacular show at Fashion Week with a designer I discovered. Too bad you couldn’t be there…but yeah. So many gays. You wouldn’t feel comfortable.”
Pale but with an ugly curl to his mouth, he sneered. “Still the same mama’s boy.”
Spencer’s chest hurt. “What should I have been? A daddy’s boy? You weresuchan inspiration, after all. Coming home drunk, screaming curses…”
