1
“I’m Nate Crawford. I believe you have my daughter here.”
“What’s her name?” the cop asked, looking up from where he was sitting behind the desk. There was a full wall of glass between him and Nate, and in front of it, resting on the shelf, were clear plastic holders full of information leaflets.
Suffering from Domestic Abuse? We Can Help.
Information for Victims of Crime.
Seattle PD Strategic Plan – Have Your Say
Nate lifted his gaze from the counter and met the cop’s stare. “Her name’s Riley. She’s sixteen years old.”
“Riley Crawford?”
“That’s right.” Nate nodded.
“Okay, take a seat. Somebody will be with you soon.”
He followed the cop’s directions to the bank of chairs at the far end of the room. They were empty save for an old man who was muttering to himself, and a young woman who was shouting into her cellphone. Neither of them paid him any attention, thank god. Maybe it was normal for a guy wearing full evening dress to walk into the Seattle Police Department to pick up his daughter.
Sighing, Nate pulled out his cellphone. Four missed calls – all from Stephanie. He wasn’t inclined to listen to them right now. He pretty much knew what they were going to say.
Where the hell was he?
“Hanging around in a police station on a Friday night,” he muttered to himself. “Where else?”
“Mr. Crawford?” the desk sergeant called out. “Your daughter’s on her way out. We just need you to sign a few forms.”
Nate stood and pushed his phone back into his pocket, pulling at the sleeves of his dinner jacket until they covered his white dress shirt. At the desk, the sergeant pushed the pieces of paper toward him and asked him to sign and date each one.
“Is she being charged?” Nate asked, catching the sergeant’s eye.
“Not this time. But she’s gotten lucky. Really lucky. This is the second time we’ve brought her in. Let’s not make the third time a charm.”
Nate nodded and said nothing. Because what was there to say? He wanted to get her home and pour himself a glass of whiskey – large – and try to block this all out of his mind.
That’s your problem, the little voice in his head reminded him. You seem to be able to deal with every problem in the world except your daughter.
Strange how it sounded exactly like the family counselor they’d been seeing since Riley had come to live with him in Seattle. Even his own inner voice was criticizing him.
Yeah, well it could join the line. Right now Riley and Stephanie were fighting for first place.
He scrawled his name across the white paper with a tattered pen that was fixed to the desk with a piece of string, presumably to stop somebody from pocketing it. Just as he pushed the signed documents back through the narrow gap between the desk and the glass he heard the doors opening next to him.
Riley was standing in the doorway wearing the grey and pink checkered skirt and white blouse mandated by her very-expensive private school. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her blue eyes – so like his – widened when she saw her father.
“I’m sorry…” she muttered, chewing the corner of her lip.
“Save it for later.” His voice was as short as his temper. He glanced at the desk sergeant. “Are we done here?”
“Yep.” The sergeant didn’t lift his gaze from his computer screen.
Nate rolled his head to try to loosen the tight muscles in his neck, but it didn’t help one bit. He was too tense, too angry, too hyped up to relax them.
Maybe that whiskey would help.
Sighing, he inclined his head at his daughter, then at the station doors. “Let’s go.”
For once she didn’t argue, as she followed him quietly, the hard soles of her shoes tapping against the tiled floor. As the electric doors opened and Nate stepped onto the sidewalk he glanced at his watch.
Eight forty-five p.m. Was it really that early? Damn, it was turning out to be a long night.
* * *
Nate pressed the button for the gate, idling the engine of his Lexus as he waited for the mechanism to whirr them open. Riley hadn’t said a word on the journey home. Hadn’t even leaned in to change the radio to something she preferred as she usually did. Instead she was staring out of the windshield, her eyes still as wide as dinner plates, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
When the gates opened he pulled into the driveway, glancing up at the imposing lake house he’d bought three years earlier. It was huge, modern, and backed onto Lake Union, and for two and a half of those three years it had suited him perfectly.
There was another car parked in the driveway, and Nate bit down a groan when he saw it. He didn’t have to look to know that Stephanie was sitting in the driver’s seat of the sleek silver Mercedes. The car was vibrating – from the engine, he hoped, rather than Stephanie’s anger. He pulled up his own car and switched the engine off, closing his eyes for a moment to try to get some kind of control. What was it he’d said about a long night?
Right now it felt more like a long year.
“Go inside and go straight to bed,” Nate told Riley as they climbed out of the car. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
She opened her mouth to reply then clearly thought better of it, pressing her lips shut and stomping up the driveway. From the corner of his eye Nate saw Stephanie open her car door and step out, just as Riley opened the front door and escaped inside the house.
He took a deep breath and walked over to where Stephanie was standing, her arms folded across her chest in exactly the way Riley’s had been earlier.