He stops at a squad car, and I see several other police vehicles make their way up Dad’s long driveway. I keep expecting this guy to ask me who I am and what I’m doing at the house, but other than “Freeze” and “Put your hands up,” there’s been nothing.
Several car doors open, then slam shut. Footsteps approach from behind me. “Name?” someone to my left asks.
I answer before I even see a face. “Daisy Buchanan.”
Then I hear “Daisy, what the fuck?”
Turning, I see Gage stomping up the driveway like he’s marching into war.
By the time he’s in front of me, I have a smile on my face. “Hi, Gage.”
“Don’t,” he snaps. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He points at the house.
“That’s my dad’s house. I came to get my stuff.”
“You broke in?”
I shake my head at that. “No. I’ve got a key. I just didn’t know the code for the alarm.”
“The security company’s on their way. They’ll turn it off.” He turns to face the guy with the gun. “Take off the cuffs.”
“No way,” the guy mutters. “She broke in.”
“You heard her. She has a key.” I’m staring up at him, and I’ve got to say, he looks angrier than… well, than anyone I’ve ever seen. His face is bright red, his brow is furrowed, and his lips are so thin the word hairlike jumps into my head. And his eyes. Geez. His eyes are squinty and twitchy. Not a good look for the usually handsome Gage.
“Sir,” the young officer grumbles. I guess seeing that expression on Gage’s face is enough for the guy. “Fine,” he says with a huff.
As soon as he’s removed the zip tie, I rub my wrists. That’s also the moment I see another car pull up the driveway. Great. It’s my dad. So much for getting my stuff and getting out of here.
“Uh, Gage?” I lean in and speak in a low voice.
“What?” he says, still sounding pissed.
“You need to go into my dad’s office.”
He still looks angry but not as much. “Why?”
“Big pink envelope.”
“Huh?”
“There’s a big pink envelope in his desk drawer.”
“You touch it?”
Oh crap. “Yes.”
“Goddamn it, Daisy.” Gage runs his fingers through his hair. “Don’t say a word about it right now. I’ve gotta make a call.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Gage
Now what? Daisy said she spotted a pink envelope in her father’s desk, but I can’t just enter his house without a warrant. And I can’t see myself getting a warrant since I’ve got no reason to believe Dr. Buchanan was even in the building at the time of the murder.
Except….
I watch the good doctor step out of his top-of-the-line Mercedes. My eyes go directly to his coat. A trench coat. A black trench coat. My eyes skim down to his feet and spot a pair of shiny dress shoes.
To myself I whisper, “Now, if you only had a hat.” There may be something inside his car if I could just get a peek inside. Without thinking, I march over to Dorian Buchanan’s car. “Mr. Buchanan.” I smile. “False alarm.”
“If that’s the case, why is my daughter standing next to a police car?”
“She said she used her key to get in, which set off the alarm.”
“Uh-huh.” His eyes are on Daisy. “May I speak to my daughter?”
“Sure.” I smile again. “Head on over.” And while you do that, I’ll look inside your vehicle.
With his back to me, I turn and peer down into his car. I look at the front seat first, then step back to check out the back seat. There it is. The hat in Dorian Buchanan’s back seat looks identical to the one in the video. A fedora like a man from the 1950s would wear. I guess it goes with the trench.
Reaching into my pocket, I grab my cell and step away from the other officers to call the captain. When he answers, I get right to the point. “We need a warrant. Fast.”
I listen as the captain asks me to keep the professor from entering his own home. Then he says, “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll call you back.”
Stepping over to Daisy and her father, I hear him say, “The only way you’re getting your things back is if you’re living here.” He points at the door. “And by finishing what you’ve started.” He pauses. “Maybe I should press charges.”
“You wouldn’t.” Daisy sounds shocked.
“Try me.”
She must see me approach, because her eyes meet mine and she frowns. “Officer Golden, you remember my father.”
“Of course.” I smile, but it’s only for show. “Do we have an issue here?”
“My dad won’t give me back my things unless I move home. Or else he’s going to press charges.”
“Well, now, that’s not exactly…”, Dorian Buchanan attempts to backtrack.
“So, you’d like her to move home or else you’re pressing charges for entering her own home? The one you want her to move back into? That doesn’t make sense. It sounds like you’re blackmailing her.” I emphasize the word because I want to see his reaction. It’s better than I expected.
Dorian rears his head back. “Blackmail?” He scoffs. “I’m not blackmailing my own daughter. How gauche.”
Gauche? That’s a word I haven’t heard in… well, ever. “I don’t know about that, but it sounds like you’re giving her no options.” I look at Daisy, then back at her father. The resemblance is uncanny. The two of them have the same dark hair and fair skin, but it’s their eyes that are really similar. They’re both a steel gray color. “Are you going to press charges, Dr. Buchanan? Because if you are, you’ll need to accompany me to the station to fill out the paperwork.”
It’s probably wrong, but I hope he presses charges. That’d give us ample time to obtain a search warrant.
With a sigh, Dorian Buchanan rubs a hand over his chin where a thin beard has begun to grow. Looking at his daughter, he says in a soft voice, “You need to move home, Daisy. For your own good.”
“For my own
