Page 28 of Conspiracies and Chemistry

My heart rocketed into my throat. “My god!” I jerked my hands off the keyboard like not touching the laptop could make it not true. Like I could hide from him.

“What’s wrong?” Savannah walked in with a plate of cookies.

“Nothing,” I lied. Revealing the secrets of my home to my friend was one thing. Exposing her to my past was something I wasn’t ready to do. Maybe, if I ignored him long enough?—

“Tessa!” came his tinny voice from my laptop’s speaker. “Let me in.”

Shit.I glanced back at the screen. His red hair had more white in it since last year. Its pink tint matched his ruddy, weathered skin.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“Goddamned election canvassers.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “The election’s been over for six weeks.”

“Christmas carolers?”

“He knows your name. No one should be able to get past your security. I can barely figure out how to get back in after a grocery run.”

I closed my eyes and sighed. Couldn’t he have called first?

Of course not. He used only burner phones, and I never answered unknown callers.

“Gerty Theresa Wright,” the tinny voice erupted from my laptop. “Let me in or I’ll camp right here in your driveway.”

My god. His truck. How had I forgotten? Wincing, I pressed the key that opened the hidden gate.

“Your actual name is Gerty?” my friend asked. “How did I not know this?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I admitted. “My parents named me after a Nobel Prize–winning biochemist.” I closed my laptop and set it on the table, then wedged myself out from between Anita and Hedy. “Better hide, girls,” I murmured. Anita raced up the stairs. Hedy, ever stubborn, tucked herself into a loaf shape.

“What should I do?” Savannah asked. “Call the police?”

“No. It’s fine. Well, it’s not fine. But I’ll deal with it. I recommend you hide like Anita’s doing. Otherwise, you can meet…” I trudged to the back door, the one that opened to the parking area, unbolted it, and flung it wide. “My father.”

He leaned on the side of his ancient Ford F-150 with the tonneau cover. The truck was painted in a camouflage pattern, not the fancy design you got at one of those custom paint shops, but the sloppy kind you did yourself with slashes in a few shades of Rust-Oleum, bought with cash (obviously) at the local hardware store, the one without security cameras.

“You know they’re monitoring your security system.” His voice was as rusty as his truck, like he hadn’t used it for a while.

“They’re really not,” I said. “Hi, Dad. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I always visit you on the solstice,” he grumbled.

He didn’t always.He hadn’t for the past couple years. Still, something warmed in my chest at the thought of him driving all the way from his remote camp, wherever it was, to see me.

“Where are you staying these days?” I asked.

He ducked his head. “Does it matter? I’m not going back.”

I didn’t dare ask where he’d go next.

“Hi,” Savannah chirped, stepping around me to extend her hand. “I’m Tessa’s friend Savannah.”

He blinked.

I let out a long exhale. “Savannah, this is my dad, Barry Wright.”

She pumped his hand. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Wright. Tessa’s told me nothing about you.”

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