Although my anger is still simmering, amusement begins to overtake the emotion. “Yeah, Dad, he’s treating me fine. You’ve seen how he is with me. Thorin is respectful and kind both in public and private. We’ve decided to take things slower this time, really learning who each other are now since we’ve grown in the last eight years.”
“That’s good. I hope he remains serious about you.”
Wryly, I ask, “Him trying to get you to host the Hastings Humanitarian Award at his new convention center next year didn’t strike you as serious?”
Dad chuckles. “Yes, but a year is a long time in some regards. I have to agree to host it there well in advance to confirm our spot. I’m not sure I’m ready to have the awards moved across the country. California is a long way from here.”
“Why do we hold them here?” My curiosity is piqued after remembering Thorin saying something about it. “Do you hold it here because of Mom?”
“Partly,” Dad agrees. “Sometimes it’s nice to have something that doesn’t change. The venue may not always be the same, but the place is. I guess I’m just comfortable here so I’m stuck in my ways. I don’t like traveling and that specifically comes from what happened to your mother.” Dad glances down at his lap before he pulls open one of the draws on the side of his desk.
I peek down, wondering what’s captured his attention and the breath stalls in my throat. Instead the drawer is a massive collection of photographs. Pictures of my graduation from high school and college, snippets I know Nana Noel took of me throughout the years or things I posted to my social media accounts. But on top in a brass picture frame is the last family portrait we all took together before Mom passed away.
Nothing could prepare me for knowing about this. Of all things to expect for Dad to have stashed here, this never made the list. His office is always impersonal, void of anything like that makes him appear human. I half expect his home to be the same, but I wonder if they’re vastly different now that I know about this drawer.
My voice feels small as I ask, “Why are they in there?”
“At first because I couldn’t look at them without breaking down,” Dad answers softly. “Sometimes I would look across the room and see a picture of the two of you and it would just trigger my grief all over again. I decided to remove most things from here, but I didn’t want to part with them. I like knowing they’re here, even if they aren’t on display.”
“What about at your house?” I know he moved into an apartment after Mom died. The house we lived in sold; too many memories for it to be a place to heal.
“Oh, they’re up there,” Dad immediately states. “The only place I’ve taken the photos down is here.”
So he wasn’t choosing to forget about Mom and me like I thought when I first found his office devoid of everything, including color. No, turns out this is his way of coping with his loss. I guess we all really do grieve in different ways.
Dad frowns at me, as if considering what I asked. “Did you really think I had all your pictures and everything stashed in some box in my attic?”
“No.” I clear my throat uncomfortably. “I thought you had them stashed in Nana Noel’s attic.”
“That woman would beat me with a flower pot if I ever dared do something like that,” Dad laughs. “She reminds me of your mother that way.”
I can vividly see a picture of my mother’s face, laughing as she threatens something similar to my father for doing something ridiculous. Even her voice, though sometimes it’s hard to remember what she sounds like, I can hear admonishing him now.
Suddenly Dad’s office phone rings, King’s name flashing on his caller ID. He picks up the phone, setting it down and hitting the speaker phone option so I can hear whatever is about to be said. “Hello?” Dad asks.
King wastes no time before stating, “I called Bex’s office, but Detrick rerouted me here saying she’s with you.”
“Yes, we were going over company projections,” Dad says. “What’s going on?”
“You can turn on the news to watch it unfold live if you want to, but the paparazzi got word from someone inside the police department, so it’s being filmed live.”
Worry eats away at my gut. Something has to be wrong for King to be calling in the middle of a work day. Is it Thorin? Is he being hounded? Did he find out more information about the rape kit they had done? Maybe someone came forward saying they know what happened. I feel my stomach tighten, acid burning my throat as I try to calm my breathing as my mind runs away with chaotic ideas of what this might be about. Anxiety fills my voice as I demand, “What is?”
“Unlike before, the police are moving at a rapid pace because the attorney general has gotten involved along with the mayor,” King elaborates. “They’re rounding up Gabriel Donner and those associated with his crimes. From what I’ve been able to gather, the former assistant of his, Colette, was having an affair with one of the executives and was let go for that reason. The executive she was seeing, Ned Holms, is friends with Oscar DeFleur. It’s all a rumor at the moment, but Ned is apparently the one who supplies cocaine to his friends with a contact he has from business relations in Columbia.”
Dad and I share an equal look of surprise and disgust.
“According to Colette, Donner knew about this and decided to use it as part of his blackmail,” King continues. “They’ll be perp walking Donner out of his offices in a little while.”
“Does this mean they’re charging him for being the mastermind behind Thorin’s drugging?” I ask.
There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line. “The attorney general is supposed to make it known what charges are being filed. I barely got the smear campaign going in the media for the past three days and this is already hitting the fan on his end so I suppose we did our job. I intend to find out what charges and have our lawyers on standby for Thorin if necessary.”
“I thought Thorin was going to use his own in-house counsel?” Dad frowns at the phone even though King can’t see him.
“I like to be prepared,” King states evenly.
“This is moving quite quickly,” I mutter more to myself than to them, but they hear me regardless.
