“What does that mean?”
He took a drink.
“Go to work tomorrow.”
“That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
“For tonight.”
I barely slept.
At exactly 7:46 the next morning, my phone rang.
Dad.
I answered immediately.
“What happened?”
“Come here.”
“Where?”
“Richard’s house.”
I sat upright.
“Why?”
Dad paused.
“Because Richard just found out what was underneath that pool.”
My heart skipped.
“What are you talking about?”
Then Dad added quietly,
“And I’m not the only one here.”
Twenty minutes later, I turned onto Richard’s street—and immediately slowed down.
Two police cruisers were parked outside.
Richard was arguing with someone in the driveway.
Melissa stood nearby, looking nothing like the confident woman who had threatened Dad the day before.
My father was beside the pool gate.
Next to him stood a woman who appeared to be around eighty years old.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
And a thick folder clutched against her chest.
The moment she saw me, she walked toward my car.
Richard shouted from behind her,
“Don’t talk to her!”
She ignored him.
I lowered my window.
“You work for Richard?” she asked.
