“That’s the funniest thing.”
Silvery smoke curls between us.
His stare sharpens. “It has been erased.”
“Erased?”
I’m going to be sick. I deleted the evidence of Jessica breaking in because I didn’t want my father to find out about her. At least not until I’d satisfied my curiosity.
“A whole week,” he says, lifting the cigar to his lips.
The tip flares faintly.
“Gone.”
Smoke spills from his mouth in a slow stream.
“You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you?”
I clear my throat. “No, nothing.”
He hums as he savors another long pull, then crosses to the desk. I follow, glancing at the security camera in the corner.
I deleted an entire week of footage to cover my tracks. When she dropped her bag that night, everything spilled across the floor. I would’ve seen the dagger if she’d managed to keep it.
It wasn’t her.
No, it can’t have been.
Right?
So who was it?
My mind stalls when my father grabs me by the shirt and slams me onto the desk. Fisting the expensive fabric, he holds the burning embers dangerously close to my left eye. The heat sears my lashes, and I go still.
“You’re going to find it and return it to me.”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding.
“Understood?” The ice in his tone chills me to the bone.
“Yes.”
“If you don’t,” he continues, “I’ll be forced to use this on your mother.”
“I’ll get it back.”
I’ll have to.
Somehow.
He lets go of my shirt, then straightens and smokes his cigar as if nothing happened. “Where’s your brother?”
“Out with friends.” I smooth down my shirt as best I can, but the fabric is creased where he scrunched it.
“You’re the responsible one,” he says, snuffing his cigar in the ashtray. “I see a lot of me in you.” His eyes pin me in place. “Don’t disappoint me, son.”
My jaw aches from how hard I’m tensing, and when he gestures for me to leave, I don’t wait around for another of his psychotic breaks.
