I follow him inside, the familiar smell of cardboard and packaging materials washing over me. After days in Riven’s silk-lined domain, the warehouse feels jarring—too bright, too angular, too ordinary.
“So,” Dad says casually as he sorts through papers at the dispatch desk. “This client you stayed with…”
My heart skips. “What about him?”
“Must be quite something to get my pragmatic daughter to accept that kind of hospitality.” He raises an eyebrow. “I was worried you’d insist on sleeping in the truck.”
I busy myself with checking the priority packages, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, well, he’s… different.”
“Different good or different concerning?”
“Good,” I say a bit too quickly. “He was a kind host. I mean… You know how people are around here. We take care of each other, don’t we?”
Dad gives me a long look, then nods slowly. “All right then. That’s all I need to know.” He hands me a clipboard. “But when you’re ready to talk about it—about him—I’m here.”
I try to hide my relief. This is why I love my dad. No pushiness, no demands for details. Just quiet support and the space to process things at my own pace.
“Thanks,” I say, then turn my attention to the deliveries. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.”
For the next hour, we fall into our familiar routine of sorting packages, plotting routes, checking weather forecasts. I’m grateful for the work. It gives my hands something to do while my mind processes everything that’s happened.
“Dale stopped me on the way down,” I say casually as we’re loading the last batch into my truck.
Dad’s hands freeze mid-motion. “What did he want?”
I tell him about the sabotage theory, watching his expression darken.
“He seems convinced someone targeted the road deliberately,” I persist. “Said there were claw marks above the slide area.”
Dad frowns. “Could be anything. Bear. Mountain lion. Hell, logging damage from the old days.”
“I don’t know… He seemed convinced it had to be something big.” I hesitate. “What if he’s right about the sabotage part? Not necessarily about who did it, but that someone did it intentionally?”
Dad studies me carefully. “You think someone tried to hurt you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. The timing was… convenient.”
“For who?”
For Riven, a small voice whispers in the back of my mind. I push it away angrily.
“That’s what I need to figure out,” I say instead. “I know the mountain better than Dale ever will. If there’s evidence up there, I’ll find it.”
Dad’s face creases with worry. “June, that’s police business. If someone really did target that road—”
“Dale’s going to blame the first monster he finds with claws,” I interrupt. “You know it, I know it. And I’m not going to let one of my clients take the fall for something they didn’t do.”
Dad sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re just like your mother. Stubborn as a mule when you think something’s not right.” His expression softens. “Be careful, Junebug. Promise me.”
“You know I will,” I assure him.
He gives me a skeptical look. “That fancy scarf says otherwise.”
Heat rushes to my face. “It was a gift.”
“Mm-hmm.” Dad’s knowing smile makes me want to crawl under the truck. “Must besomeclient.”
“Can we just focus on the potential saboteur trying to kill me rather than potential suitors?”
