“Good nap?” I clapped him on the shoulder. He grumbled something at me while I grabbed an extra chair propped against the house and brought it over. By then, he'd started to tug on his line again.
“Great nap.” He yawned. “You should try it sometime.”
I snorted.
“You never did nap,” he muttered bitterly. “Stopped that business when you were 18-months old, you monster.”
That did sound like me. While I settled into the chair, Dad eyed me from the corner of his eye, then glanced back at the truck.
“You alone?”
“Stella's with Megan and JJ.”
He grunted. With the lure returned, he reached for new bait. Unlikely he'd get anything now, but Dad would be aware of that. He always had to have something to do with his hands when we spoke. Getting fish wasn't the point of fishing.
“You liked Stell?” I asked.
Dad cast, chewed on his bottom lip, and nodded.
“How?” I asked. “You saw her for all of ten seconds and spoke three words to her if that.”
“You've talked about your accountant before. When you texted me and said she was going to stay with you for a bit, and then I saw her,” he shrugged, “simple arithmetic.”
“So why did you like her?”
“She's got an honest face.” He shot me a perturbed look. “And she might be the only person on this planet you've ever listened to when it came to all your businesses.”
“She's brutal that way.”
He laughed. “Besides,” he drawled, “she's the only one that didn't seem afraid of me.”
“You have a good eye for people.”
He shrugged.
Ah, Dad. Silent, steady observer. JJ was too much like him by half. While relieved to have his approval, I couldn't act surprised. Dad was an open book when you really knew him, and he was that way on purpose.
I fidgeted in the chair for a moment, trying to figure out how to voice my next topic. Conversations with Dad were a lot like speed dating. Bullet points. Get to the purpose. Say the important stuff. Move on. Mom was more like a long, country drive. She'd extrapolate all over the place, wander into side roads, get lost in a topic, and be happy every second. Meanwhile, Dad couldn't fathom keeping up with it.
No wonder that marriage crashed and burned.
“Say it,” Dad barked.
“What?” I asked.
“You're fidgeting. That always means you're not sure what to say.”
I sighed, still grateful for his observation. “Stella's in trouble. Ugly trouble, and I need some advice.”
He motioned for me to continue with a wave of his hand, then had a sip out of what looked like coffee. Then I told him everything I'd learned about her and Joshua from the moment she arrived. What the feds said—and didn't say—when she first reported it. Her fear of being paranoid and irrational. Right down to Mav's report today.
Dad's frown grew with each passing minute.
“Stella . . . she keeps saying her life isn't a movie,” I said with a shake of my head. “That this can't be real. Some kind of denial, probably.”
“Shock,” he countered. “She's in shock.”
“That too. But now I'm starting to wonder if this is more real than I'd thought, and I'd already thought it was pretty real. If that guy asking about me was Joshua, it probably means he's here and he's up to no good. I don't like that. Not at all.”
Dad's lips thinned and eyebrows thickened, a sure sign he was thinking. I let the silence go, appreciating the quiet tinkle of the creek that calmed me. Repeating the story only made me more agitated. I leaned my forearms onto my knees.
“Feds aren't going to help because it's not really their jurisdiction,” Dad finally said. “Until he actually makes a move, a threat, or harasses, there's nothing anyone can do.”
“So I'm supposed to let that happen? Hell, no.”
“No,” Dad drawled, “didn't say that. I'll let the guys at the station know, tell them to keep an eye out. Get me a photo of him and we'll send it their way.”
While that made me feel better, it wasn't enough. What if Joshua made a move? He only needed access to Stella once to do irreversible damage, and that wasn't acceptable to me. There were, of course, no guarantees here. But I wanted one. In all my life, I'd never wanted a guarantee more.
“Restraining order?” I asked.
He shrugged. “She doesn't live here.”
“She does. She lives with me. Adventura is her home now.”
Dad quirked an eyebrow. I met his stare and all the thousands of words behind it that he didn't say. Thankfully, he kept that locked away.
“Has she changed her drivers license?”
“No.”
“Does she have proof of residency? Something official sent to her there through the mail?”
My hope started to feel small.
“No.”
“That would be a first step. Even if she does do the restraining order, she'd have to do a temporary one for two weeks, then go before a judge. Do you want her to have to explain this to a judge if Joshua hasn't actually made a move against her? It'll be a disaster. The system is not ideal, but it's how it works.”
On instinct, I fought back a curse in front of my father.
“So what do I do?” I asked.
“You get me the picture and description and any other information you have so I can pass it along. Then you watch, be careful, and wait. Let Atticus stay with her as often as you can. Don't leave her alone. That kind of thing.”
“I don't like that.”
Dad chuckled humorlessly. “That doesn't matter one bit, boy.”
I already knew that.
I just hated it.
With a sigh, I ran a hand over my face. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate your help. I'll get you all that stuff.”
He nodded, running his tongue over his teeth. He tugged on the line as he slowly reeled it in, but I could tell his thoughts were far from Adventura.
“You still
