Page 16 of Luke, The Profiler

“Sugar, I’m always harassed.” He blew out a little “pfft” noise and waved a vague hand, looking so open and charming and approachable it almost hurt. “People calling me a charlatan or snake oil salesman every hour of the day. Strangers threatening to sue me because their mama or daddy or spouse or what-have-you emptied their bank account to donate to HEG. Bullshit lawyers constantly up my ass looking for improprieties like I’m some idiot noob who doesn’t know First Amendment law better than they do. You know how it is, the rubes are always crying over their own fucking choices once it’s too late to do anything about it. It’s all just part of the game.”

The game.

Of course.

A knot of tension tightened in my chest, something I hadn’t felt in three long years. How normal he made it all seem. “So, you’re okay? There hasn’t been anything more than the usual shit?”

“No. Well… no.”

The knot doubled itself. “Dad.”

He blinked, all innocence. “What?”

“Tell me.”

“It’s not a big deal, sugar.”

“Marvin.”

“Okay, okay, no need to get nasty.” Giving me a wounded look, he hunkered down more deeply into his chair. “It all started about three or four weeks ago—you know me, I’m so busy doing my thing that time can get a little hazy. A month could go by, and I’ll think it’s only been a few days.”

“Mm-hm.” Personally I’d never bought that excuse whenever he’d missed birthdays or big events, mainly because my father and the truth had always been strangers. “Tell me everything.”

“It’s mainly packages.”

When he didn’t go on, I frowned. “Packages? Through the HEG mailroom, or sent to the house?”

“Neither. They were left onshore for the grounds crew to find.”

I blinked. “Okay, so… First off, that’s weird.”

“No shit.”

“Secondly, how do you know these packages were meant foryou? For all we know, some cargo ship foundered or sank somewhere out on Lake Michigan, and this is just the detritus washing up. Has there been anything on the news about a lost ship?”

“No, and I know these packages were meant for me, because they were addressed to me. I’m not a complete idiot, girl.”

He had me there. “Okay, so what’s in these packages?”

“Rats. Dead, stinking rats. A couple had maggots on ‘em.”

I grimaced. “I got one of those, too.”

“Yeah? Well, you gotone. I got seven. Then I got a snake.”

I gasped. I couldn’t help it. “I hate snakes.”

“Me too, sugar. Especially alive ones, which this one was, and poisonous, and pissed off. Thank fuck it was a rattler. If it’d been one of the quiet ones, I’d be dead now.”

“Holy shit, Dad.” I stared at him, trying and failing to cover my alarm. “I know this is probably a stupid question, but have you contacted the police?”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” The look he gave me boiled with contempt for any and all law enforcement. Considering his past, I couldn’t really blame him. “I’ve beefed up security and I no longer open my own mail. That’s better than any asshole cop could ever do for me.”

Good. “What about the shoreline? I’m assuming you have eyes on it?”

“Of course, though fat lotta good it’ll do me. All packages stopped coming ashore after I put up a slew of security cameras and added dogs to the security already patrolling the area. Fucker’s obviously keeping watch over everything I do.”

“And that’s not scary at all.” I took a steadying breath before switching gears. “Did Kels fill you in on my meeting with Private Security International?”

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