Page 89 of The Lake of Lost Girls

“Jess!” my father yelled and I finally came to a stop.

I gave Ryan a tiny smile. “It’s my dad. Give me a minute.”

Fear and anger shadowed my steps as I left Ryan’s side and walked toward my dad, who was striding towards me. He looked like a wreck. His normally perfectly styled hair was messy as if he hadn’t brushed it in days. He had dark smudges beneath his eyes, and he clearly hadn’t shaved in awhile. My mother must be having a fit at the sight of him.

How was he explaining the slip in his appearance? What lies was he spinning to get her off his back?

What reason did he give for driving her car instead of his own, very conspicuous, bright-yellow Mustang?

“You need to answer your phone when I call you, young lady.” To anyone else he sounded like a stern father. They wouldn’t hear the slight tremor in his voice—the barely concealed hysteria. I felt the instinct to morph into “old Jess.” I looked down at my feet. I shrank in on myself until I was as nonthreatening as possible.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I said softly, my voice pitched low, like a child’s. This was how I always was with him.

Then I looked over my shoulder at Ryan who was far enough away that he couldn’t overhear our conversation. He was watching us with open concern.

Everything was so messed up. And it started with my father.

“Damn it, Jess. I needed to see you. Where have you been?” It came out as an accusation.

“There’s nothing left to say to each other.” I was tired. Incredibly tired. So, I forced that little girl inside me to disappear. In her place was a woman to be reckoned with. I stood up straighter. I felt my spine stiffen. Dad took a step back, as if to protect himself.

“Jess.” My name sounded like agony. Like broken dreams and empty promises. I couldn’t stand to look at him. He made me sick. But there was the part of me that wanted to hug him. I wanted everything to go back to how it used to be … even if that hurt, too.

“Leave me alone.” It was both a plea and a demand.

Dad took a hold of my upper arms, his fingers digging into my skin.

“The police called me downtown to ask me questions about Meghan. Why would they do that?” He gave me a little shake.

I tried to pull out of his grasp. “So? What does that have to do with me?”

My father tightened his grip. “They said they got a tip about me. They tore apart my car. They took things into evidence. They think—” He cut himself off, looking away.

“They think you did something to her, right?” I filled in, trying hard not to be swayed by his misery. Trying not to be flayed open by my guilt.

Dad’s face shattered. “You did this, Jess.”

I clenched my teeth. “No, Dad,youdid this. This is on you. You’ve dragged me into it.” This time my anger was directed at the right target. I welcomed it with open arms. It decimated my conditioned submissiveness. It stomped my need to please into the ground.

“Jess.” My father looked down at me, his eyes full of something that looked like hatred. I tried to take a step back, but he held me in place.

I had never doubted my father’s love. He had made it clear that no matter what, he was there for me. He’d help me when I needed it. He loved me unconditionally.

But this wasn’t the face of a man devoted to his child. This was a man who despised the person in front of him. Who blamed them for everything.

“If I go down, Jess, you go down, too. Remember that when you’re stirring the pot. Think about your mother. Think about Lindsey. Think about what you’re doing tothem.”

“I don’t need to think aboutanything,” I spat. “And you won’t make me feel guilty because ofyourmistakes.”

He slapped me.

I stumbled backward, holding a hand to my cheek. My father seemed shocked. He looked down at his hand as if it were foreign to him.

“Jess!” Ryan ran to me, pulling me away. He turned to my dad. “You ever touch her again, I’ll kick your ass, old man, you hear me?”

“Jess—” Dad started to say.

“Go. Just leave,” I told him.

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