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"Yes," she agreed.
"And you've traveled around the world?"
She nodded. "My dad was a diplomat. So, yes. I had a nomadic childhood."
"Where's he now? Retired? Or still in that line of work?"
A thorny question. She sipped her wine feeling suddenly sad.
"He's dead," she said.
She saw a flash of sympathy in his eyes. "I'm sorry about that," he said. She thought he was about to ask her more, but then sensed that it was a painful topic and gave a small shake of his head.
They sat in a slightly awkward silence for a few moments, and then Wyatt’s phone beeped. Looking down at it, his face warmed.
"That's my wife, checking in," he said. "Suzy's a Pilates instructor. She's heading out now to teach her afternoon classes. Mind if I message her back?"
"Of course. You don't even have to ask," Juliette said. She watched him key in the message, still with that tender smile on his face.
As Wyatt texted his wife, who he clearly adored, Juliette felt glad the subject had veered away from her father’s death. It had been terrifying and traumatizing, and she thought it had been the pivotal event that had set her firmly on a course in law enforcement. She’d wanted the power to find answers.
Her dad had been murdered, brutally, and she herself had narrowly escaped death, or so she always believed. Thinking back on that tragedy again, she felt sure her dad had taken secrets with him to his grave.
She’d never know what had really been going on in her father’s life, although she resolved that, one day, she would find out. But she felt a shiver as she remembered how events had played out, and how that terrible crime had occurred - a crime that there were still no answers to, and no explanation for.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
What had her father been involved in, Juliette wondered, as she glanced at the menu while Wyatt texted his wife, looking at the words without even taking them in, because her mind was totally elsewhere.
Her diplomat father had definitely seemed distracted that day, worried about something, when he'd met her on the platform, after she'd come through to Munich via train.
Away on a break from university, she'd been pleased to have some vacation time with her dad, and explore the sights of the city with him, but he'd definitely seemed withdrawn and preoccupied, as if something was wrong.
The journey from Oxford to Munich had taken a full day, and by the time the train arrived it was late - already after nine p.m.
"Let's get some rest," he'd said, "and go sightseeing tomorrow."
"Okay," she'd said, feeling disappointed, because last time they'd gotten together late, in Milan, her father had taken her for drinks at one of the area's trendiest bars, and then they'd walked a mile in the dry, cold darkness, chatting and catching up and taking in the sights and sounds of the city at night.
But this time, he clearly wasn't in the mood. She'd gotten into the cab and they'd headed off to the hotel.
"I guess you want your own room?" he'd asked at the reception desk. "There is a two room, shared suite available."
"I want my own room," she'd insisted. She didn't want the suite. It was more fun to be totally on her own and able to call or text her friends late at night, and to stay in the bathtub or the shower for an hour if she felt like it without feeling she was being rude or selfish.
It chilled her to think that decision could have saved her life.
"There you go.” He handed her the keycard. “See you at breakfast tomorrow. Eight a.m.?"
"Perfect, Dad," she'd replied. "Thanks!"
Once in her room, she'd done exactly what she'd been looking forward to doing. She'd gotten into the shower and stayed there for half an hour, giving herself a mini beauty treatment with the free gels and lotions. She was a student on a budget, after all.
Then she'd gotten into bed and spent the next hour or so chatting and messaging friends. She must have fallen asleep around midnight, and woke up with a jolt the next morning. Checking the time, she saw it was after eight a.m. She'd overslept horribly.
And her dad hadn't come knocking?
She'd scrambled out of bed, feeling bleary from her deep sleep, pulled on her clothes, and rushed down the stairs to the breakfast room.
