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Dad’s truck was already outside. I parked next to him and went in.
As expected, the interior was a mess. Old, stained carpet, holes in the walls. Everything was drab and dated, but a few months from now, the place would look like new.
“Hey, Dad?”
He came around the corner from the kitchen, dressed in his usual flannel, jeans, and work boots. “The wiring is a mess. We knew that going in, but I have a feeling it’s worse than we thought.”
“Luckily you have me.” I grinned at him but he just glowered at me like he wasn’t amused.
Typical.
And that wasn’t just me being cocky. I was good at my job. I’d always been fascinated with electricity, from the time I was a kid. And owning my own business meant I didn’t have to take orders very often. That was probably why I’d never asked to partner with Dad and Josiah—just worked with them as a contractor. It was better for everyone that way.
I showed myself around, flipping switches and testing outlets. Some of them were getting juice, some weren’t. One of the upstairs bathrooms was completely dead. That wasn’t a great sign, but I could fix it. I went down to the garage and checked the panel. Whoever had lived there before had clearly been a DIYer. It was a mess.
“How bad is it?” Dad asked.
I shrugged. “Not great, but I’ve seen worse.”
He grunted.
“I might be doing some work over at Tilikum Hardware next week, but I can get started after that.”
“Sure. And check with Josiah about the fixtures. We need to replace them all, but I don’t know if he wants to add anything. Especially in the kitchen.”
“Will do.”
“How’s Marigold?” he asked.
His question was out of the blue, but that was my dad for you. Abrupt. “She’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, why? What did you hear?”
He scowled. “Probably nothing that’s true. I doubt she won the lottery and now she has long lost family members trying to blackmail her for her money.”
“Uh, no.”
“That arrogant son of a bitch show his face again yet?”
“Not yet. How’d you hear about him?”
“Annika.”
Made sense. I kept thinking of Marigold as mine, but she’d been friends with my sister for most of our lives. My parents knew her as well as anyone.
“How much did she tell you?”
Dad’s voice was hard. “Enough to know he laid a hand on her.”
I nodded, anger simmering beneath the surface.
“Just make sure you stay out of it,” he said. “Let the authorities do their job.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing? The first thing I did was call Garrett.”
He narrowed his eyes, skepticism written all over his expression. “Still.”
