Page 90 of High Velocity

The man makes a dismissive noise and fixes his one visible eye on me.

“And who are you?”

“That’s Jackson Hart, Dad. My partner,” she responds before I can.

Interesting she chose the term partner instead of boyfriend, even though it can mean the same. I have a sneaky suspicion she’s well aware her father may be more likely to interpret the term as professional partner rather than romantic one. But, despite her father’s obvious failing health, his mind proves to still be sharp.

“Doesn’t look like a federal agent to me.”

“I never said he was,” Stephanie grudgingly admits.

The old man harrumphs, and abruptly turns his wheelchair, disappearing out of sight. I follow Stephanie down the hallway to what turns out to be a kitchen. Her dad is at the kitchen table, a newspaper spread out in front of him.

“You had a stroke. Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks him.

“Coffee in the pot is old. Mabel should be here any minute, she can make fresh,” he rumbles, ignoring her question, and not looking away from his daily news.

“Who’s Mabel?” Stephanie changes direction as she opens a cupboard and pulls down two cups.

Clearly not much has changed since she lived here. I lean a shoulder against the doorpost, determined to remain in the background.

“Cleaning lady. What are you doing here?”

Man, this guy is something else. My fingers curl in my pockets at the way he addresses Stephanie. It’s gonna be hard to keep my tongue.

Stephanie ignores his sharp question and pours us each a cup from the thermos on the kitchen counter.

“I assume you heard about Ben Vallard?” she asks with her back still turned to him.

I’m watching him though, and his reaction to hearing that name is as if someone slapped him across the face. Even his voice suddenly sounds deflated.

“Yeah. He’s dead.”

Stephanie hands me a cup and I catch her father turning his rheumy eyes on us.

“Did you kill him?”

For a moment I’m a little uneasy, not entirely sure who the question was directed at, but Stephanie responds.

“Does it matter? He tried to kill me.”

I’m shocked the man doesn’t even look surprised, he just nods.

“Did he do that?” he gestures at the sling she is wearing.

“No,” she clarifies as she moves back to the counter, picks up her cup, and leans a hip against the edge. “That was Mitchel Laine.”

No visible reaction from her father. He either doesn’t know the name or isn’t at all surprised to hear it. My vote is on the latter.

“Do you remember him, Daddy? Mitchel? Did you know he survived?”

The man has ice in his veins, the way he looks at his daughter.

“Heard he’s a vegetable.”

Stephanie nods, taking a sip of the black tar her father calls coffee without flinching. The woman is pure steel.

“We thought so until this morning when he woke up. It’s looking like he might be talking soon.”

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