“Are you okay?” he said while studying the small shop I’d been slaving away in for what felt like ages now.

“I um… yeah.”

“I like this place. It suits you,” he said, discounting my odd demeanor.

My father slipped his hand partially into his pocket, making his arm bow over the service weapon resting on his hip.

“Thank you?” I said in a questioning tone.

I think…

What did he mean by, ‘it suits me?’ Did he think I looked good as a fucking barista? No one in their right mind would think this was my calling, my dream job, or even something that would make me look respectable. I bet my mother was rolling with indignation.

I pulled myself from my stupor, promising to relive this moment at a later date, then turned to Justine. “It’s on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that,” my father said, shaking his other hand from side to side.

Of courseI didn’t have to do it, but it was more of a celebratory buyout. He wasn’t taking me out of my shop with handcuffs… yet. There was this awkwardness that hung in the air like the sweat adhering to my skin as I worked up the courage to broach the conversation.

“I know. Hey, Dad. Do you…” I pointed my thumb over my shoulder, “Can we talk in my office for a moment?” I laced my question with a smile, hoping it would cover up any uneasiness he may pick up on.

He shook his head. “I can’t, sorry. We need to get back to work. We just stopped in for a moment.”

Officer Dayton, the man who had been around since I was old enough to remember, and who was also there when they dragged me through the precinct, eyed me up and down without so much as a smile before returning his gaze back to Justine.

My father may have forgiven me, or at least I suspect he had, otherwise he wouldn’t be here, but it would appear the department hadn’t. Did they see me like all the other criminals who came through their department now? Did it matter?

Iwasa criminal.

An assassin for one family.

And I was inlovewith them.

My finger tapped against my thigh with the display case hiding my nervous giveaway. “Okay, I understand. How are things, Dad?”

He took a deep breath as he nodded his head a bit too fast. “Good. Your mom is ripping out the garden again.”

I rolled my eyes. If only he could see my genuine reaction at the mention of that woman.

It hadn’t been long since she’d pulled up her flower bed, so there must be something on her mind, and I hoped it ate her up inside until there was nothing left but a husk.

My mother forsook me just like Josh, only without a weapon. She’d stabbed me in the back with the proverbial knife of betrayal and twisted until she left me raw and bloody, nursing a wound that would fester until my dying day. She was dead to me, just like Josh. The difference being she was still alive to torment me for years to come.

I wonder how many times she’d take the opportunity to grab the handle and twist it again?

It’s a morbid thing to conjure images of murdering your own mother. But when she sides with the cult leader over her own flesh and blood to pull a confession out of me, I think it’s warranted. She can wither in Hell for all I care.

“She is? Wonder what she’ll put there this time.”

“I think she’s bought some roses and bulbs for next spring. I don’t know, you know how she is.”

“Yeah, I do.” I nodded.

Justine slid three coffee cup holders filled with coffee of various sizes and a bag of food across the receiving counter towards the waiting officers with a radiant smile on her face. How can she be so chipper all the time?

“Well, I better get this back before it gets cold.”

“Okay. We’ll talk again?”