“Your mother never mentioned it.”
I huff out a laugh. “When’s the last time you talked to her?”
“Around the fifth of never.” His gaze drops to my waist. “You armed?”
“I’m off-duty,” I say.
It’s not a lie. I am off-duty. But I’m also armed. My Glock is strapped to my ankle. Good thing boot-cut jeans came back into style.
Rainey ambles out from the kitchen, cigarette in her hand. “What are you doing home so soon?”
“Storm’s coming in. We stopped for the day.”
My father eyes the living room, the mess on the floor and the coffee table. “What the hell happened here?”
“I was going to empty the ashtray for Rainey, but I dropped it. I’ll replace the glass.”
“Damn right, you will.” He nods to Rainey. “Get me a beer.” Then back to me, “This mess isn’t going to clean itself up.”
All he sees me as is another woman to do his bidding.
“I’ll take care of it.” Rainey heads back into the kitchen.
“Did Joey give you that ashtray?” I ask.
He gives me a look as if I’m crazy. “How the hell should I know? It’s just a damned ashtray.”
“It’s an ashtray with the logo for the freight company he was working for.”
“So?” He drops his hard hat on the couch.
“Did you know the company is out of business now?”
“Why the hell would I know that? It’s just a stupid ashtray.”
“Rainey tells me you had some money a few years back,” I add, pushing.
“Rainey is a damned liar.”
I pause a moment. Listen for sounds of Rainey in the kitchen. There it is—the soft vacuum sound of the refrigerator door closing. She’ll be back with his beer any moment. Did she hear him call her a liar? This place is tiny, so I’m betting she did.
“Is she?” I ask. “She said you got into some kind of investment, got six figures out of it, but blew most of it in Vegas. Probably blew the rest on beer and cigarettes.”
“If you’re looking for money, Sadie—”
I hold up my hand up to stop him. “I haven’t taken a penny from you since I was eight years old, and I don’t plan to start now. Besides, look at this place. You clearly don’t have a pot to piss in.”
“Then I suppose you can be on your way.”
“I’ll be happy to get the hell out of here,” I say, “as soon as you tell me about Joey and Racehorse Hauling.”
“Joey was a pain in my ass.” My father runs a hand through his greasy hair. “I got him a sweet deal with that freight company.”
My pulse quickens. “I think, Dad, that you’re the one who got a sweet deal with that freight company.”
He inhales with a snort, and for a moment I think he may hock a loogie right in his living room. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
I step forward and close the distance between us. “Don’t I?”