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“I bet you kill more than you save.”
He stared out the windshield. “What do you want me to say, Becca?”
“Nothing.”
Silence filled up the car until there wasn’t room for anything else. He’d gone to vet school, she knew.
“I don’t always like what I have to do,” he said finally. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t necessary.”
“For the greater good?” she mocked.
“Exactly.”
Becca leaned back against the door and gripped her elbows against her chest. This felt like being chastised. Not quite, but almost. Whatever, she didn’t like it.
“Are you worried about your car situation?” he asked.
She was. Becca didn’t want to consider how many hours she was going to have to work to save up enough money to buy a new car. She had no idea how insurance worked. Didn’t a deductible come into play somewhere? That old Honda had barely cost more than a thousand dollars.
“I’ll talk to your mom,” he said when she didn’t answer. “We’ll figure something out.”
“I don’t need your money.”
“I’m not quite sure that’s true.”
She swung her head around to glare at him. “Look, you can’t come swooping in here with a MasterCard and pretend to know everything I need.”
He sighed, loudly. The exasperation was clear. “All right, Becca.”
She pressed her forehead against the window. “All right, Dad.”
Irritation thickened the air in the cab of his truck, heavier than the silence had been. He flung the truck in park roughly when he pulled into her driveway and saw the pentagram on the door. “What the hell is with this kid?” he demanded.
For an instant, she entertained telling him.
So, Dad, about the accident. Really, there’s a guy who wants to kill me.
“Who knows.” Her voice sounded tired.
“I’ll have to come back to paint tomorrow,” he said. “It’s too wet now.”
He trailed her onto the porch, and she shoved her mom’s key into the lock. “Leave it. They’ll just put it back up.”
His attention shifted, focusing on her. She felt the change in his demeanor. “Becca.” He caught her wrist, keeping her from opening the door. “Do you know who’s doing this?”
She wriggled her hand free. “No—god, Dad, I’m tired.”
He let her go, then stood in the foyer and watched her flick lights on. The house stood empty—no Quinn. Becca felt a flash of guilt for their fight outside the school, but then caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror. She looked like—well, like she’d been in a car accident and a flood. Her hair straggled over her shoulders, and her clothes were ruined. Her makeup formed dark circles around her eyes, making her look almost macabre.
Quinn was on her own tonight.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she said.
He glanced around, like a wannabe police officer checking the place for criminals. “I can make a pot of coffee and stay for a while.”
“Or you could remember that I’m almost seventeen years old, and I stay by myself almost every night.”
He stared down at her. She stared back.
