Page 8 of Daddy's Dirty Little Secret

“No, I’ll be there. Give me a few minutes though. Godwin is over and I have to get dressed; I’m wearing my pajamas.” I stood, stalking toward my bedroom as I said my goodbyes, and Dad sent his well wishes to Godwin, whom he’d known for years now.

I was dressed in my jeans and sneakers, ready with my purse on my shoulder when Godwin finally walked out of my bathroom. He was yawning, covering his mouth as his eyes scanned up and down my body.

“Who’s throwing the party?”

“Dad’s having car trouble. I have to run.” I clenched my hand around my purse strap as I slid my phone in the outer pocket and snagged my car keys. “We’ll have to finish up tomorrow. We can just leave things here if you want?”

“Sure, honey, I’m getting sleepy anyway.” Godwin offered a hug, and we made plans for him to return in the morning. Welocked our computers and he grabbed his jacket, then I walked him to his car and headed toward the grocery to pick up Dad.

Before I even got a few blocks away, I smelled the stench of smoke. Traffic was backed up a few blocks, and it took me a while to get through the series of traffic lights. As I rounded the corner, I saw the flashing lights of a fire truck and a few police cars. But it was the ambulance lights that made my heart try to escape my rib cage by way of my throat. It looked like the scene of an accident.

I had to park all the way at the back of the lot and walk toward the scene; the whole time I had my phone out trying to call my dad. He didn’t pick up, and a million terrifying thoughts flooded through my mind. I’d been telling him to get his starter fixed for months. The dang thing would crap out on him and he’d wrestle with it for twenty minutes trying to start it. It needed to be repaired.

When I saw the horrifying sight—Dad’s car burnt to a crisp next to two other cars that had major damage, I freaked out. “Dad!” My eyes scanned the crowd as I pushed into the mass of bodies trying to gawk at what was happening. The stench of alcohol wafted up at me, and I realized a lot of these people standing out here probably came from the bar across the street. “Dad!”

“Amelia,” I heard, and my heart started beating again.

“Dad?” Pushing past a few more gawkers, I came to a police barricade and tried to climb over it. An officer walked up to me and pressed his hand on my shoulder.

“Ma’am, I can’t let you in here.” The flames were out, but his eyes still burned with determination.

“That’s my dad’s car. That’s my dad!” I pointed at the back of the ambulance where Dad sat with two EMTs and a bandaged hand. The officer glanced that direction and saw Dad waving, and he turned back to me.

“Alright, but go straight to the ambulance, nowhere else.”

Before he’d even finished, I was over the barricade and racing over to the back of the ambulance. Dad winced as one of the EMTs touched his hand and waved them away as I walked up. He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing tightly, and I could smell the stench of smoke in his hair and on his clothing.

“A little car trouble?” I asked, shaking as I clung to him.

“You were right. The starter was bad.” He patted my back and then let me pull away. I was shaking like a leaf as one of the EMTs stood.

“I’ll let you talk,” she said, backing away. I took her spot on the cold metal bumper and clutched my purse to my chest as I stared at Dad in disbelief.

“You think the starter did this?” I shook my head, not believing anything I saw. Did cars really just spontaneously combust?

“I think so. I’ll have to turn it in to the insurance company.” Dad massaged the bridge of his nose. His hand was covered in soot, thick black swaths across his fingers.

“You’re hurt?” I asked, taking his wrist and turning his hand over.

“He has second-degree burns,” the other EMT said as he carefully took Dad’s arm back from my grasp. “But he’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should’ve listened to you before and had a mechanic take a look at that.” His eyes glistened with emotion, but it looked more like fear than concern. I was just glad he was okay.

“Dad—” I started, but I watched him puff his chest out, shoulders going stiff. His eyes were trained over my shoulder to something behind me. I glanced that direction and saw the mass of bodies hovering, watching. But behind them, two men wearing dark suits stood staring at the scene. They were out ofplace, not random strangers on a Friday night who wandered out of a grocery store or bar to be nosy.

“Dad?” I asked, turning back to face him. He was pale, eyes blinking rapidly. “What’s going on? Are you sure it was the starter?” I got the feeling he wasn’t telling me something, but why? He blinked back into focus and turned to me.

“It’s the starter. I’ll report it to the insurance company. I’ll get a payout, okay, honey?” He gripped my hand, and when I started to look back over my shoulder, he pulled my arm and said, “Hey, it’s just an accident. We’ll get me fixed up and you can take me home.”

My body felt on edge, goose bumps appearing on my arms and the back of my neck. Dad was hiding something—something he didn’t want me to know about. I didn’t think this “accident” had anything to do with a starter going out, but I wasn’t an expert. And right now, I had to be thankful he was healthy and fine, nothing more than a small burn. When I finally did turn to look over my shoulder at where those men had stood, they were gone, and I was glad.

I wanted to take Dad home and pour myself a drink.

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