Kicking the door with my heel, I close it after he leaves. “He seems a little strange.”
Stevie laughs. “Yeah, he was definitely trying to read you.”
The tapping of my dad typing on the keyboard is the only response he gives us. I think nothing of it and start unloading the bags of food on his desk. “Brought you dinner, Dad.”
A deep sigh fills the room. “He’s Agent Sawyer from the FBI. They’re working a case with us.”
“Should have known,” Stevie says. We start unloading the bags on his desk. “Anyway, we brought you dinner.”
“Oh gosh, you girls are the best.” His face lights at the sight of the food, which means this is most likely his first meal of the day. When my dad is deep into a case, he can go days without thinking about eating. “Thank you. I’ve been up to my eyeballs with this case. And with the FBI involved…” He trails off.
My movements halt. “The cabin?”
“Yeah,” he says, removing the lid off his salad. “We’ve had many late nights.”
“I worked on one of them two days ago,” Stevie says with a horrified look on her face, but she quickly gathers herself, taking a bite of chicken. My sister never seems to be affected by her work, but whatever happened to those girls must have been rough for her to react that way. “I have another memorial scheduled later this week.”
Sorrow fills the surrounding space, reminding me how grateful I am that River showed up when he did or I might have been one of the women visiting my sister’s operating table.
“What always gets to me about these types of cases is how young these girls were. How close in age they were to you girls,” my dad says, rubbing a hand across his chin.
Stevie and I exchange a quick look of understanding. It’s always harder on our father when the victims remind him of us. The last time it happened when we were younger, he moved Stevie and me into the same room and slept on the floor between our beds for months, scared that we’d meet the same fate as the little girl who was found dead after being taken from her bedroom one night.
“We’re safe,” Stevie comforts him, placing her hand on top of his.
“I know, but no matter how long I do this, the gut punch of it all will never go away,” he says.
Heat pricks the tips of my ears, anxiously waiting for an opening to try to get my dad to give us anything about the case.
“What do you guys have so far?” I ask, being a little blunt. My dad will think I want a few pieces of information as research for another one of my crime fiction stories.
“Always diving straight into business,” Stevie quips.
“I’m only asking.”
“Sure.” She shoves a large piece of lettuce in her mouth.
I roll my eyes and turn back to my dad.
“We’ve gathered a few leads that indicate these perps are somehow connected to each other. But since the FBI is taking over the case, they’re handling most of them.”
“Like friends?” I propose, waiting to see if his theories and mine have something in common.
“I’m not sure yet.” He pauses before giving me a warning glare. “And remember you can’t use any of the specifics for your books. Got it?”
“Of course, Dad,” I say. “You know I’d never jeopardize one of your cases.”
“Well, after we went public with a few details from the case, we received an anonymous tip from someone who said his employer has been gone a lot over the last few months, going on long weekend camping trips up to the mountains.”
“Hmm.” I rub my lips together. “What does he do for a living?”
“He owns an insurance brokerage here in the city. The tipster said the behavior was out of the ordinary especially since his boss is typically at the office ten to twelve hours a day.”
“Apparently, he was completely dedicated to his career, then a few months ago, something changed.”
“And we know when someone’s daily habits are drastically altered, it only means one of very few things,” I start.
Stevie’s eager finger flies into the air. “An affair.”
