Gage asks this time, “Is this something you’ve seen firsthand or just heard?”
“Well, obviously I don’t do his grades for him.” He wanted me to, but I refused. How lazy can one man be? “That’s the rumor around campus.” I blow out a big gust of air and lean back. “So, why are you asking about my father?”
“No reason.” Gage shrugs. “We’re just trying to get to know more about our vic.”
“Vic?”
“Victim.”
“Ah.”
The two men stand simultaneously, like it was choreographed, but my eyes are on Gage. I do the same and follow them to my front door.
“Thank you, Miss Buchanan.” Gage again.
“No problem.”
Shutting the door behind them, I turn and lean my back against it. “What was that about?” Do they think my dad knows something about Kara’s murder?
There’s no way….
It’s not possible. My father’s way too self-absorbed to know or care about what’s going on with his students.
Stepping into my living room, I can’t decide what to do next. I know I need to shower, but Dad took all of my toiletries. The memories of last night rush back, and I’m overcome with anger again. I curl my hands into tight fists.
Taking in calming breaths, I relax my hands and decide on a plan of action. Picking up my purse, I shove my phone inside and grab my keys, I leave my apartment and jog down the steps to my car.
Well, to where I thought I left my car.
And then I realize. “That motherfucker.” He took my car!
Reaching into my purse, I extract my phone to send my asshole of a dad a message. When I press the Home button, a message appears on the screen: No longer in service.
“Fuck!” My voice is so loud, I draw some attention from a few people in the parking lot, but I don’t care. My eyes burn, which means there are tears making their way forward. I close my eyes in an attempt to focus because I refuse to cry. Not over this.
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “You’ve got this.” And thanks to Ames having one of the best city bus services in the country, I’ll just hop on CyRide to get where I’m going. “No problem.”
Once I’m on the bus, my mind is numb. All I can think of is how desperate my father has become. Well, that’s not all I can think about. No, I’m also pondering how I’m going to show him, once and for all, that I don’t need him.
At my stop, I look down at the worthless phone I’m still clutching. I decide, in that moment, to leave it behind, in the seat. There’s nothing personal on it; I was always careful about that. No, it’s better to let someone who doesn’t have the latest device use it.
In the store, I gather the things I need like shampoo, toothpaste, and a toothbrush, which reminds me that I need a hairbrush. Along with that I find deodorant, some panties, a sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, leggings, a couple of tees, and a few tops. Once it’s all rung up, the cashier gives me my total. Opening my wallet, I stare at the debit card my father gave me a few years ago, the one that goes with our joint account, and I just know. I know before I even try to use it that it’s not going to work. Still, I run it through the card reader and wait.
“Oh,” the cashier says, looking embarrassed—embarrassed for me. “It says declined.”
“Mmhmm.” Of course it does. Slipping that card back into my wallet, I take out my other one. The one I’ve been holding onto until it was time. “Let’s try this one.” I do my best to smile, but it’s not real.
“Oh, good,” she says with a relieved giggle. “That one worked.”
Reaching out, I take the card and put it back in its spot.
With my bags in hand, I wait at the CyRide stop right outside the door. It doesn’t take long, and luckily the bus is fairly empty right now. I move to the back of the bus and slide into a seat next to the window, leaning against it. The coolness of the glass feels good against my forehead.
This day has sucked.
The walk back to my apartment from the bus stop is slow thanks to the fact that I’m carrying six Target bags, a bag that holds a sub from a local sandwich shop, plus my purse. I trudge up the apartment steps, thinking about the shower I’m about to take. “Then I can eat,” I mutter.
Setting everything down, I reach into my purse to find my keys. I remember throwing them back in when I discovered my car was gone. Locating my apartment key, I line it up with the lock and push, but it won’t budge.
“No.” I stare down at the key. Holding it up in front of my eyes, I make sure I’ve got the right one. Maybe I had it upside down. Placing the key in the lock, I try again.
“God. Fucking. Damn it.” I say it loud enough for anyone on my floor to hear. Growling to myself, I hiss, “You just overplayed your hand, motherfucker.”
“Daisy.”
The voice catches me so off guard, I scream, jump back, and drop my keys. “What the hell? Gage?”
“Sorry.” He moves closer, holding his hand out like he’s trying to keep me from falling over. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Well, you did.” I look over at him and see Kara’s door is open. “Were you in Kara’s apartment?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “I was waiting for you.”
Another spy. God, I’m so sick of this crap. “Stalking me?” I spit.
He throws his head back like he’s shocked at my words. “Absolutely not. I was worried about you.”
Scoffing, I bend to retrieve my keys along with my bags. Turning, I start the walk back down the steps.
“Daisy.”
I pause, turning my head to look at him. My lord, he’s pretty in his blue jeans and blue Henley shirt.
