Just a father speaking to the woman who had stayed with his daughter on a freezing garage floor.
I nodded.
Then I left.
My best friend Tasha was sleeping on my couch when I got home.
Technically, it was my couch.
Technically, it was also where Tasha slept three nights a week because her boyfriend snored like industrial machinery.
She woke when I came through the door at 2:38 a.m.
She squinted at me.
“Why do you look like you’ve been hit by a very expensive truck?”
I dropped my purse.
“I met Harlan Voss.”
Tasha sat upright.
“You did what?”
“I found his daughter.”
She stared.
“In a parking garage.”
Her mouth opened.
“She’s fine.”
Her mouth closed.
“Probably.”
It opened again.
“Tasha, could you please make the face after I finish?”
She pressed both hands over her mouth.
I told her everything.
The garage.
Belle.
The SUVs.
