“I’m just trying to figure out what you were doing today.”
I blink, thinking. I need to remain calm and aloof, so I shrug. “Just running errands.”
“Errands?” he asks, standing up from the sofa.
“Yes.”
“What kind of errands did you need to take care of at First National Bank.”
No. He. Didn’t. “You followed me?”
He doesn’t bother answering. “We don’t bank at First National.”
We? What he means is we have a joint account at Vista Credit Union. It’s the account he deposits my rent money into along with the little bit of spending money he gives me.
“What were you doing at the bank, Daisy?” Dad’s voice has gotten calm. Too calm.
The thing is, I’ve been prepared for something like this. I knew I’d have to have a backstory for some of the things I’ve done until I’m ready to make my final move. “I was there about a loan.”
“A loan?” He takes two steps closer. “Why would you need a loan?”
“I wanted to buy a gaming computer.” And those things are like four grand, so it makes sense that I’d need a loan.
“Why not go to Vista? We’ve been their customer for years.”
“I wanted to do it on my own.” That’s a viable excuse, right?
Two steps closer. We’re less than a foot apart now. “Why don’t I believe you?”
Ugh, his voice is starting to sound a little creepy.
“Dad.” I sigh, then roll my eyes for effect. “I’m twenty-three years old. It’s time I—”
“No!” he shouts so loudly I jump. “It’s not time. It’s not time for you to do a goddamn thing.”
“Dad, I—” I don’t get any other words out.
“Don’t.” He inches closer. “Whatever you’re up to, I’ll find out. The bank president of First National is a friend of mine.”
I want to tell him good luck with that, but I choose to remain silent.
“Does this have anything to do with your visitor this morning?”
Okay. That’s too much. “What were you doing, hiding in the stairwell?” I laugh, but it comes out as more of a grunt. “He brought me back my plastic container. That’s it.”
“And you invited him over for dinner.”
And that’s enough of that. Now I step closer. We’re nose to nose. Well, his nose to my forehead. I look up into his eyes and say what I’ve needed to say for years. “I’m only going to say this once, Dad.” I grit my teeth. “If you don’t back the fuck off, I won’t finish your fucking book.”
“And if you don’t finish my fucking book, I won’t give you your allowance.”
I push up onto my tiptoes. “And if you don’t give me my allowance, I’ve got a friend of my own at the Ames Tribune.” That’s no lie. Well, we used to be friends in high school, until I practically became a recluse.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.” Seriously. I want him to try me. I’ve been dying to go to the paper or to someone about him for years.
He suddenly takes a step back. “Fine.” Running his hand through his perfectly coifed hair, he chuckles. “You surprise me, Daisy Fay.” He turns and walks to my patio door. The one I haven’t seen out of for years. The sunlight makes a big difference in this place. I no longer feel like I live in a cave.
While I’m at it, I add, “Back off about my personal life.”
So suddenly it startles me, Dad’s head whips back until his glaring eyes meet mine. “Do not test me on that. No visitors. No dates. And especially no cops.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because cops snoop.”
“Nobody will find out about our deal unless I’m the one who shares it.”
Dad’s voice is low and rumbly. “You’d better not.” He means “or else.”
I shrug. “That’s up to you, old man.”
I guess calling him “old man” is funny because he laughs as he walks past me, bumping me with his shoulder like some punk-ass. At my door, he looks back at me as he reaches for the knob. “I’m going to call my friend at that bank.”
“Do whatever you need to do.” Because he won’t find out shit. The asshole.
Chapter Fourteen
Gage
The ride to Stuart, Iowa, has ended up being a working drive. Finch is driving because the captain thought the experience would be good for the rookie. I guess he’s right. So while Finch drives, Trumbull has taken shotgun. That left me with the back seat. I was a little irritated by that at first, but I’ve used the extra space to spread out some of my notes and a copy of the file on Kara Becker’s murder.
With everything in front of me and two other brains in the car, we’ve worked through some of the questions I’ve had rolling around in my head. Things like the surveillance video taken at Social Apartments. “It shows Tayler Sorenson arriving at the time she said and leaving approximately eighteen minutes later.”
“Still time enough to kill Becker,” grumbles Dan.
“Yeah, but there’s nothing odd about her demeanor as she leaves. If you’d just murdered someone, wouldn’t you behave differently?” I know I would. “Plus, there doesn’t appear to be any blood on her clothing, and she’s wearing the same thing she had on when she got there.”
“But she’s wearing dark jeans and a dark shirt. Blood would have been hard to spot, especially since the video was grainy, at best.” Dan makes a good point.
“Okay. But what about the garage entrance?” I ask, hoping one of them has some new information on that. At Social, there are parking spaces beneath the building that some residents choose to rent. The fees are added to the cost of the rent, so I’ve got a list of the residents who have a spot. Kara Becker had one, for example. Daisy is another. For those people, there’s a service elevator that takes them up from the underground parking to their floor. “Do we know when we’re going to get the elevator footage yet?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Dan nodding.
