Page 86 of High Frequency

I’m pretty sure Vandermeer has no idea his daughter and I were briefly involved.

“Sir, your daughter and I saw each other very casually for a short while.” Shelby audibly snorts, but I forge on. “I ended it, mainly because it became clear things weren’t casual to your daughter anymore.”

“I had nothing to do with it, asshole,” she snarls, but it’s like her father doesn’t hear her.

He keeps his attention on me. “You think she did this?”

“Sir, I don’t think it’s a coincidence two cans of red paint went missing from your stock, one of which showed up under my porch.”

The old man presses the palm of his hand against his forehead.

“Lord have mercy, Shelby. When are you gonna smarten up?” he laments. “You’re thirty-two years old, and your mother and I have had it with you.”

I listen to Shelby going off on her father. I feel for the man, but hell, I don’t need to be a part of this discussion. I got what I came for, and her father can take it from here. I can still hear them yelling when I get to my truck. Tossing the empty can on the passenger seat, I get behind the wheel and head for the Red Dog Saloon.

My phone rings in my pocket as I’m sitting in the parking lot, waiting for my pizza. I grin when I see who’s calling.

“You’re an ass,” I tell Jackson when I answer.

I had a feeling he was gonna make me wait an extra day, just to be a dick.

“Calling me fucking names already? Where the hell are you?” he grumbles.

“Picking up a pizza in town. Where are you?”

“Sitting on your goddamn porch with a six-pack and my fucking duffel bag, where do you think I am?”

Grinning, I shake my head. Guess my day isn’t over yet.

“What do you want on your pie?”

Twenty-Five

Sloane

“You havegotto be shitting me.”

Several months and not a word, a cell phone no longer in service, and no forwarding address. How ironic Mom and I were just talking about this possibility earlier.

“Come on, darlin’, don’t be that way.”

That’s how he used to talk to any woman who would sit down at his bar, except I was the fool who fell for it.

Well, I’m no longer falling for it, I’m spitting nails.

“You bailed months ago, no heads-up, no way to contact you. You just packed your bag and walked away, from your fucking daughter! And you sure canceled that phone number in a hurry, you useless piece of shit!”

I’m glad he caught me working at Dan’s place, at least my yelling won’t wake my daughter.

“I was in a bad place?—”

I bark out an ugly laugh. “You? Give me a break, Jeff. You got to stay home with our daughter while I had to go out and earn an income. Not what you’d call a hardship.”

“It was stunting me, killing my muse.”

Oh, my God. He is not to be believed. I don’t know why I even bother talking to him.

“You’re killingme. Why are you calling?”

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