“He wanted to help, and we thought we could retrace the killer’s footsteps, and maybe—”
“Maybe get yourself killed by a pack of rabid vampires keen on your destruction?”
“Well, no—”
“Maybe get yourself in deeper trouble with Headmaster Martinelli, who believes you’re tampering with evidence? Maybe end up in the fearful clutches of the magical mad person who murdered Oakley Riddle in the first place?”
“Daddy, no—”
“Daddy,yes.” Lazarus slapped both his comforter-covered thighs with his hands, an exclamation point. “That’s exactly what you were doing when you were gallivanting around outside the safety of our home.”
“I was with Rye—”
“Who should know better.”
Embry immediately regretted saying his name. Daddy could yell at her all he wanted, but Rye did not deserve it.
“Where is he? Little Delhi Diner? You know what? It doesn’t matter. Where’s my phone? I’ll tell him myself right this very moment.”
At least this time, she wouldn’t inadvertently toss Shaggy under the bus. “Daddy, don’t be mad, please,” Embry deflected. She actually did know his phone was charging in the kitchen, because she’d put it there herself, but she wasn’t going to share that. “Getting fired up has to be a bad thing for you in your current state.”
Usually turning it back on Daddy’s health worked. If anything, Lazarus Woodcross did not want to worry his daughter. Which is why he begrudgingly went along with all her meddling plans to help him, from the weekday runs to the copious amounts of high-fiber chia. But in this moment, that pivot didn’t make things easier; it made them so, so much worse.
“You’re right. It is,” he snapped, blond brows crashing together. “My blood pressure was through the roof when I woke up and you weren’t in the house. Phyllis had to sedate me again.”
Embry’s mouth was desert dry. She itched to check her cell, which she’d had off since she’d left the house. It was easy to picture all the missed messages, the display texts piled atop one another like cards in solitaire.
“I,” she started, hoping that by omitting her use ofweDaddy would forget Rye had ever been included in her jaunt outside, “was only trying to improve the situation.”
“You can improve it by staying here. Where you’re safe.”
Embry knew enough not to mention to Daddy what Rye had pointed out about her lack of safety on these grounds as proven by the vampire attack. Lazarus continued to build his case.
“Where you won’t get into a worse situation that will only make it harder for our lawyers to protect you.”
“Ourlawyers?” This caught Embry off guard. He’d mentioned his “people” working the Table for clues, but she’d figured they were employees from the Woodcross Law Firm.
“Yes. I’ve hired out a magical firm from Portland to protect you—that diviner’s vision has made formal charges more likely.”
Embry’s stomach twisted—she needed to find out if Alistair had gone missing in addition to dropping out.
“In fact, they’re currently fighting a search warrant for your dorm room.”
Embry’s head felt as if it were full of the sand that parched her throat. “But if we’re fighting it, doesn’t it look like I have something to hide?”
“No, it looks like you’re fighting for your rights as a private citizen in contract with the school for room and board. Yes, they own the building, but via contract it is your space, and they have no right to search it without proof.”
“Daddy, I didn’t do it. They won’t find anything.”
“May I remind you that the real killer is framing you for this crime?” Bold color flooded Lazarus’s unshaven cheeks now. “Youhaven’t been in your room since Saturday morning. It is very likely the killer has had the time to plant evidence there without your knowledge.”
“But the wards—”
“Embry Luciana Woodcross!”Daddy’s tone brooked no argument.
Her sentence snapped in half, and she blinked at him as he squeezed the hand that had been holding his with surprising strength given his circumstances.
“Stop arguing with me. Stop inventing excuses. Leave it up to the lawyers; leave it up to me, your father, to know what’s best here for you.”
