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“Someone’s waiting for me outside,” Amanda said.
“They’re welcome to come in.”
“No.”
Her mother glanced at her husband.
“It’s just that we’re in the middle of a case,” Amanda clarified.
“Why come by now then?” Her mother’s brow arched in confusion. “You should have come by when you have some time.”
“I just needed to talk to Dad about something.”
Her mother’s chin quivered, and she crossed her arms.
Amanda went to her; touched her elbow. “I’ll be back when I have time.”
Her mother palmed her cheeks and met Amanda’s gaze. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
“You remember that when a Steele gives their word, they—”
“Keep it. And I will.” Amanda kissed her mother on the cheek and squeezed her.
“I’ll just be in the kitchen.” Her mother padded off.
Amanda turned to find her father watching her.
“This a question you have about a case? Want the old man’s advice? I’ve been out of the game for a while, but I’m sure I can still help.” He grinned.
“Why don’t we sit down?” She sat on a couch.
“Ah, sure.” Her father took up in a chair next to a side table where there was a glass with some amber liquid.
“When did you start drinking again?” Her chest pinched just thinking she knew the answer: her abandonment.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I have it under control. So what brings you here?” He leveled his gaze at her, and in his posture and eyes she saw the former police chief still lived on.
She told him about Palmer’s murder, the article, snippets of her encounter with Rick Jensen.
“I saw the article—a bunch of horse crap.”
“Well, Lieutenant Hill didn’t see it that way.”
Her father leaned forward. “Sherry Hill as lieutenant. Now that’s a miscarriage of justice.”
Amanda wanted to ask exactly what her father’s beef was with Hill, but now wasn’t the time.
“Did she suspend you?” her father asked before she could say anything else.
“No, but she took me off the case.”
“Hmph.”
“Dad?”
“So what? Are you also here to tell me you’re going rogue? If so, you should step away. It’s not worth ruining your career over.”
