His gaze dropped to my neck before his lips downturned into a frown. “Where did you get those?”
My cheeks blushed, and I used my hair to cover them up. “Let’s take this conversation one step at a time. Yeah?”
“Are they taking advantage of you? Because if they are--.”
I cupped his cheeks. “Gordon was the one taking advantage of me, Dad. Not them.”
His eyes widened. “He what?”
I held my arm out to where Dutch had been sitting. “Come and sit. There’s fruit, and I can get you some coffee, and we can just talk. Okay?”
He eyed me carefully. “You sure you’re all right?”
I smiled, and I swear my heart came alive. “I’m more than all right, Dad. I’m fantastic.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t seen that smile in so long.”
“I haven’t had it in so long.”
His gaze searched mine. “What the hell has happened? Some sheriff came by my house yesterday asking questions about Gordon, and you, and—.”
I moved him by his shoulders and sat him down before pulling up another chair in front of him. With our knees touching, I took his hands within mine, studying the worry and relief that cascaded over his face at the same time. I couldn’t imagine how confused he must feel, and I wanted to answer all of his questions.
I just hoped it didn’t overwhelm him.
“Is it going to be easier for you to ask questions and me to explain? Or, do you want me to just dive into the story and you can interject with questions as we go?” I asked.
He squeezed my hands. “Let me ask my questions. You know I love my questions.”
I snickered. “You sure do, Dad.”
He sighed. “Why is Gordon’s face all over the news right now as a missing person?”
I didn’t know it was, but that didn’t shock me. “He’s a dirty cop.”
He gasped. “What!?”
I nodded. “He was in bed with Tommy Gun Griggs, and has been for quite some time.”
“You’re joking.”
“Not one bit.”
“So, he’s going to prison?”
I smiled. “For a very, very long time. They’ve got enough evidence on him to put him away for life, if that’s what they want to do.”
The last thing Dad needed to know was that he was sitting with Gordon’s murderers. Or, more specifically, the woman who took solace in his murder.
“So, is that why a Sheriff Barnes came by asking about Gordon yesterday? Because he didn’t seem to know where to find the man.”
I had to tiptoe around that question softly. “Okay, maybe it’s better if I explain, because a lot of these answers are sort of knotted around each other.”
“How long have you known about Gordon working for the mob?”
And that was my intro into the story I had concocted in my head. “I suspected things about a couple of years ago, but when I came across a lockbox in our bedroom while cleaning up one day, I found proof.”
“What kind of proof?”
