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“You didn’t tell Mom what happened.” Her mother had seemed startled that Hannah was even questioning her father’s whereabouts.
“I don’t talk about active investigations. You know that.” His voice was automatic. Hannah thought about what Irish had said in the fire truck. He looked up at her. “Did you tell her?”
Hannah shook her head. “No.”
“Good.”
Hannah wet her lips and dropped her voice. “You don’t want her to know?”
“No reason for her to know.”
“Dad. You shot someone.” A pause. “You killed someone.”
“I was there, Hannah.”
A small steel chair sat beside the desk, and she glanced at it. “Can I sit down?”
She honestly expected him to refuse, but after a moment, he slid the paperwork into a file folder and nodded at the chair.
She eased into it, wishing for privacy. This room was too open. Too many people swarmed around. If she said the wrong thing, her father would shut his mouth and order her out of here.
“I’m surprised you’re not in your office,” she said. “I looked there first.”
“I had people to question.”
Hannah hesitated. “You mean Michael?”
She didn’t expect an answer, but he nodded. “And his friend.”
She’d tried to reach Michael, but his phone had gone straight to voice mail, and he hadn’t responded to her text messages. “Did you arrest them?”
“No. They just had to give a statement.” Her father put his pen down, then rubbed his eyes. “We found evidence on the gunman linking him to the fire in the home.”
“And the bombing?”
“I can’t say.”
Which meant yes. Probably.
“What about the other fires?”
“Hannah—”
“No. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” She hesitated again.
He studied her. “Why did you come looking for me?”
She gave him a look. “Because you wouldn’t answer your phone.”
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, took a glance at the screen, and grimaced. “I can’t believe it’s after seven. I missed one from your mother, too.” He centered on Hannah, and his voice turned brusque again. “That doesn’t answer my question. What do you need?”
She blinked. “I don’t need anything.”
“Were you just trying to find out the fate of your boyfriend? I’ve already told you that I’m not going to let personal feelings get in the way of—”
“Dad.” This was so typical. She almost slapped her hand on the desk to get his attention. “I’m not here because of Michael. Is that what you think? That I came here to beg you not to arrest him?”
“I sure hope you’re not here to make your case about being an adult again—”
