Page 4 of Charity's Torment

“Don’t drag me into your women’s issues.”

“Dad, women’s issues are birth control and periods. This is her trying to control me.”

“That’s not true. I thought you might like to go on a date with a successful man.”

Because I can’t find a successful man on my own? I closed my eyes to hide the eye-roll and blew out a sigh of defeat. There was no use in arguing with her. She got what she wanted—she always did.

“Fine. But this has got to be the last one. I have a busy job, you know.”

“Yes, Dear. We all know your telemarketing job is so demanding.”

“How is your job going, Dad?” I ignored her patronizing remark, and envisioned my hands rubbing savagely through her flawless hair, ruining it.

“Busy as usual. Lately, we are dealing with a slew of possibly connected robberies.” I nod my head and feel the long vibration of a phone call. I glance at my watch and see the name—Luca.Fucking hell. What does he want?

“Why do you think it’s related?”

“No. No cop talk while we are eating, you two. Why do I need to remind you about this every time we have supper together?”

“Sorry, Lynnet.” My father, the fierce detective… whipped into submission by the good Christian woman. I couldn’t contain my smirk.

My mother finished her food and put her silverware at the six o’clock position on her plate, while I grabbed another buttered roll and popped it into my mouth. The amazing yeasty taste of fresh bread was something I would ask for as my last meal.

My father raised a brow and tilted his head towards me. “How is your job going, Charity?” I caught his question gaze.

He’s never used that tone with me before—his investigative voice. The one he used when he was trying to get to the bottom of something.

“I made Employee of the Month again,” I lied.

“That’s wonderful, Dear.”

“Yes, that is very good.” He cleared his throat and shoveled some food into his mouth.

It was the story I made up from time to time, just to feel a little better about myself. Quite sad, really. Would that satisfy his curiosity? What brought that about, I wonder? My palms became sweaty, and I wiped them on my jeans.

“Small bonus this time, nothing major.”

“I wish you would work at the police department with me. We could use more officers with a work ethic like yours.”

Not this again.“I know, but I get queasy around blood. What am I going to do against a big man? Nothing. I’d be screwed begging for my partner to save me.”

“You’re right, Charity, you couldn’t do it because I wouldn’t allow it,” Mom said. “You are in a safe job where I don’t have to worry if you will come home at the end of the day.” She straightened her napkin and fingered a crumb, then discarded it on the plate.

Sometimes, she made me forget just how old I was. I’m still an adult… right? “See, Mom agrees.” I chortle. I love my mother—I do—but I couldn’t care less if she agreed with me or not.

Dad’s phone broke the awkward tension rising in the room. “I have to get that. It’s work.”

He took it off the counter in the kitchen and muttered. The muffled conversation was brief and to the point.

“Sorry. I need to go. Someone phoned in a body in a motel.” He kissed my mother atop her head and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair.

“I parked behind you, let me move.” A systematic decision for this specific reason. I enjoyed talking shop with him. Not only did I get the goods on fresh cases, but I could also monitor some that I was involved in. I walked him out and left my mother to tend to the table. “So… dish,” I said as the door closed behind us.

“Not much to tell right now. Someone identified a man’s body from the window in a run-down motel.”

I forced my body to relax. When you become nervous, your body snitches on you to the one with a trained eye. It’s a bigtellthat you’re hiding something. “That’s terrible.” I tossed my helmet to him, then maneuvered my bike across the driveway. I can’t believe they found him that quick. I for sure thought the blinds were closed. Could it be Tom already?

“Happens every day there. People pick up drugs and hookers and use those rooms to commit suicide. It’s a sad world.” I used my heel to move the kickstand and climbed off the bike. “As much as I’m sad you didn’t follow in my footsteps, I am glad you don’t encounter the death I do.”

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