“No, we’re not. We came out to have fun,” Penelope said, clasping Lucia’s hand.
Lucia pouted but followed along, and after waving to Skye, they all headed to the back corner of the bar toward the dartboards.
Penelope enjoyed the outing more than she’d expected, and warmth settled deep in her chest. Yet later, as their dart gamewrapped up—Jules slaughtering them both—and Lucia squeezed her hand, her smile faltered.
Found family was one thing. But there were still ties she hadn’t untangled, ghosts she hadn’t faced, and one in particular she could no longer ignore.
~ ~ ~
The door fell shut behind Penelope with a loud clang. She clutched her purse strap, fingers tense and unmoving. The room was musty, almost dank. A small wooden table stood between two rickety chairs.
This was a mistake.
She couldn’t even pace, and instead resembled a statue, turned to stone by her own daring, or perhaps by the anticipation of the door across from her opening and revealing—
The door opened, and Penelope’s mind stalled.
A man in a beige jumpsuit wearing handcuffs entered the room.
“Pen?” he croaked. “What are you doing here? They said my lawyer—”
“I called in a favor. I knew you wouldn’t come if they said it was me.”
The door closed again, leaving the two of them alone in this barren room. The walls were painted a flat, institutional lime—bordering on vomit-green. Whoever designed this room had no eye for color.
“Can we please sit and talk, Dad?”
He sighed, hesitated, but then nodded and shuffled to sit down on a chair.
Penelope followed suit, and at first, they only stared at each other.
“I wish you’d not come here,” Richard finally broke the silence.
“And I wish you’d been honest with me.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I couldn’t crack all your codes, but I pieced together enough. Your notes and my research painted a clear picture—and it’s bleak.”
He ground his jaw.
“What I don’t understand is why—why put us through this? Why lie?”
The metal of his cuffs scraped over the wooden surface as he folded his hands and lowered his head.
“I didn’t want to hurt you and your mom more than I already had.”
Words she’d practiced became stuck in her throat, and her heart fell into her stomach like a bird who’d forgotten how to fly. She’d still carried a glimmer of hope that she’d been wrong, that she’d misread it, that there’d been some other explanation than the truth: Her father had been complicit.
“I was just…reckless.”
“Reckless?” Penelope snapped, her back straightening. “You lied to us! For what? To cover up laundering stolen art and God knows what else.” Her anger dimmed—just a little—as Lucia’s face flashed in her mind, and shame crept up her neck, coloring her cheeks scarlet.
“I… It started as a favor for a friend. It didn’t seem like a huge deal, and then…” He looked at Penelope. “It worked. No one knew or suspected a thing, and it became a kind of thrill. Almost a competition between us. Like, ‘What else can we get away with?’” Richard sighed. “Barry is the one who got me in touch with…that woman.”
Penelope narrowed her eyes. “How old are you? This was about thrills? Wouldn’t there have been a more legal way to achieve that?”
“I know it was dumb, and I deserve everything I got and more. I just… I’d already lost everything related to my career, my freedom.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to lose my family, too.”
