“Naomi Tanner decided not to press charges.” Officer McGoven’s baritone cut over her easily. “I don’t think you want your father to know that. Do you?”
Loren could only shake her head, flinching as those gray eyes found her again. She felt minuscule beneath his scrutiny. Like a child shriveling beneath a police officer’s perusal all over again.
They had all seemed the same back in those days, a bunch of featureless faces topped by a dark uniform. Only he wasn’t wearing his now. Instead, a green polo revealed his muscular forearms, and a simple pair of jeans were tucked into his leather boots.
The boots held Loren’s attention. They looked firm. Sturdy. If only she could manage to talk her father into buying her a pair like that. Though if Naomi had her thrown in jail, she might never wear shoes again.
“D-do you know why?” she asked, focusing on the topic at hand. “Why she didn’t press the c-charges?”
McGoven shrugged. “She decided it may not have been in her best interest.”
In other words, he convinced her not to. Was Naomi susceptible to his commanding voice like she was?
“She won’t be bothering you again,” he added as if to confirm that unspoken suspicion.
“T-thank you,” she stammered, but a gnawing sense of paranoia ate at her gratitude.What did he want in return?Nobody did anything for free.
Sure enough, he met her probing stare with one of his own. “Loren, I need to ask you something.”
“Y-yes?”
He seemed to hesitate, taking time to inspect the modest living room furniture—a stained couch and musty recliner. His gaze lingered, appearing to note everything down to the dust in the corners—but Loren still sensed the second his focus returned to her.
“What do you know about your father?”
She frowned. “Not much.” Only that his name was Fred Connors, and after her mother died, his house was the only place she had left to go. “But he is my father, and I…love him.”
Everyone else accepted that generic answer. It might have been true to some extent. After all, this home was better than the last one.
Rather than satisfied, McGoven looked… Uneasy. His probing stare intensified, demanding the truth she was too chicken to say.
He’s a monster—not in the literal sense.She didn’t know why it seemed essential to make that distinction. Sure, he might not have had claws or fangs or bulging yellow eyes, but real-life monsters were always the worst. Just ask the average serial killer, who seemed more frightening than the story ofLittle Red Riding Hoodany day.
Give her a real monster, complete with fur and a spine-tingling growl, and Loren knew she could hold her own. Somehow. Her father, on the other hand? He was a far more formidable threat.
And if he knew she had a man in his house, he’d kill her. The thought consumed her, and she barely heard what Officer McGoven said next.
“What about your family?” he pressed. “What do you know about them? I heard your mother wasn’t from around here—”
“My mother’s dead,” Loren replied before she realized what he probably meant. Other family. Grandmothers. Grandfathers. Cousins.
“My mom was all I had,” she added. “I-I meanbesidesmy dad.”
Officer McGoven didn’t seem to like that, and Loren swallowed at the emotion that contorted his expression too quickly to name. Anger?
“Have you ever heard of Black Mountain?” he asked.
“No.” She wasn’t too familiar with the area around New Walsh. Up until a few months ago, her entire existence had consisted of the small town of Ridgerton.
“You haven’t. What about any mention of a territory up North? Friends of his?”
“He doesn’t have friends,” she replied. “Outside of his gambling buddies, anyway.”
And if he did, he certainly hadn’t introduced them to her.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted as McGoven’s eyes flashed. Anger was definitely the emotion she failed to name before. For whatever reason, he seemed determined to disguise it from her. He turned away, but his posture was too tense. Furious. “Fucking bastard,” he snarled under his breath.
Her? Or her father? At the thought of him, her entire body went cold.