“She stole confidential files from our headquarters and from a hospital’s locked record room! What do you have to say about that?”
“That you have yet to prove her involvement in this crime either,” came the answer. “And that I have provided you with the money you demanded two hours ago for her release. Are you going back on your word, sir?”
Stowick’s reply was too rude to be repeated in public, which might have been why Investigator Baker—who seemed to be in the vicinity—inserted himself in the conversation.
“For God’s sake, Stowick, stow your pride!” the chief barked. “You know as well as I do we can’t convince anyone with that rubbish you call surveillance footage. Get Frye out of here. She’s no more than a snooping busybody.”
“Sir, I gave an interview to the press—”
“You did what?” Baker thundered.
The rest of Stowick’s lashing was drowned out as an officer escorted a familiar man into the holding area. He was shorter than average, a few inches below six feet, but his thick stature and impressive shoulder width made up for it. His dark hair was shorter and grayer than I remembered, and his nose was crooked, as if he’d broken it since the last time I’d seen him.
“Dad?” I gasped.
“Hi, Jack. Let’s get you out of here.”
Not ten minutes later, we had been cleared to leave the station. Stowick glared at us as we left, but he couldn’t do anything to stop us. My father kept a firm but gentle grip on my arm as he led me out of the station and across the street to the nearest sandwich shop.
“Your bones are lighter than a bird’s,” he commented as we headed inside. “Don’t you eat?”
“Often,” I said. “But it’s a bit harder from inside a police station. Dad, what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in—”
“Five years,” he finished. “When you told me that you couldn’t attend my wedding at the rehearsal dinner the night before.”
Guilt gnawed at my stomach. Or perhaps what I felt was hunger.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I couldn’t bring myself to turn up. Not when Mom—”
“Your mom’s gone,” Dad said shortly. “Did you expect me to stay miserable forever? That I would never meet anyone new?”
“You replaced her.”
He grimaced. “Not here, Jacqueline. I won’t talk about this in a sandwich shop. Order something, will you?”
We ate lunch in tense silence. Each of us did our best to examine the other without being noticed. When Dad’s eyes were focused on his sandwich, I looked him over. I noticed his thinning hair and bigger belly. I supposed his new wife was feeding him well.
He glanced up at me, and I quickly averted my eyes. I could feel his gaze on me, checking me up and down for bumps and bruises, as he had always done.
“Evelyn called me,” he said without prompting. “Three days ago. She filled me in on this Ripper situation. She said your killing obsession was getting out of hand.”
“I don’t have a killing obsession,” I told him. “I study serial killers. It’s different. Besides, I don’t believe you. Evelyn was the one who encouraged me to go after the Ripper last night.”
“Maybe this is about more than the Ripper.” Mustard squirted out of his sandwich. He wiped it with his pinky finger and licked it off. “She says you’ve been looking into your mother’s murder too. This isn’t good for you, Jack. It’s what drove us apart in the first place.”
I let my food drop as my appetite vanished. “You know what drove us apart, Dad? The fact that you went out and found yourself a new family after Mom died. You moved to DC for her. For them. After all those years of refusing to be with Mom and me in the same place, you uprooted your entire life in New York for a woman you hardly knew.”
He looked stunned. “That’s what you’re upset about? That I moved to DC?”
“What do you mean? Of course!”
He reached across the table to take my hand, but I moved it away from him. He sighed. “Honey, you moved all the way to California after your mother died. We both needed to get away from the places that were saturated with the memories of her. I didn’t move to DC for Grace. I moved because I got a decent job offer at Georgetown, and it felt like a good opportunity to get out of New York. I didn’t even meet Grace until after I’d been living there for two months.”
All the fight drained out of me. It occurred to me that I had never bothered to ask my father how he met Grace. I was too bothered by the idea of him moving on while I was stuck in the past.
“You drove me away, Jack,” he said softly. “What was I supposed to do?” He reached for my hand again. This time, I let him take it. “I’m here now, okay? And I’ll be sticking around for a bit.”
“Why?”
“To help Evelyn,” he said. “And to watch over you.”
16
Upon my reunion with Evelyn, I threw myself onto her hospital bed and sobbed across her chest until her gown was soaked through with my tears. She stroked my hair and laughed as I muttered unintelligible apologies over and over again.
“It’s not your fault,” she insisted. “My shoulder had been aching for days, but I kept working through the pain. I should have told you when I started feeling ill. Please stop crying.”
At some point, I gained control of myself and waved my dad into the room. He shuffled in and extended his hand to Evelyn.
“Hi there,” he said. “It’s been a while, but I remember you well. If I recall, you were the only person to keep Jacqueline in line while she was in school. Do you remember me?”
Evelyn beamed. “Of course I remember you, Mr. Frye.”
“Please, we’re all adults here. Call me Nathan. Now—” He pressed the call button to page the
