Page 52 of Daughter of a Monster

“Wait.” The younger officer steps forward. There’s recognition in his eyes. “You’re the Atterton girl, aren’t you?”

Barrett and Jericho exchange tense looks as I move toward the officer. I ignore them.

“Isn’t that why you’re here? To talk to me about my father?”

The younger officer shakes his head and turns to the older one. “I recognize her from the file, sir. She’s Atterton’s daughter. The one who got shot.”

The older officer narrows his eyes. “And why are you here?”

I stumble on my words, confused as to why they didn’t know all this in the first place. “I’m the dance tutor.”

“For who?”

Jericho grabs the officer’s arm, pulling him further down the hallway. “Why don’t we discuss this in my office?”

“I believe you’ve been withholding information from us, Mr Priest.”

“How can I withhold information when we haven’t even formally talked yet?” There’s a smile on Jericho’s face but it’s changed from charming to fearsome. Thunder rumbles overhead as if to emphasize his words.

There’s a moment of nervousness as the men glower at each other before Mrs Bellamy speaks. “How about the dining room?” She stands behind, bustling everyone in the right direction. “That way everyone can take a seat and I’ll make some tea.”

“Maybe you should go get changed, Miss Berkley,” Jericho says. “You’re all wet from the rain. You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’m fine,” I shoot back.

“You’ll get sick,” he says more forcefully.

“I’m sure I can handle it.” I’m not going to allow him to send me away so he can talk to the officers without me. I need to know everything they’re about to say.

Formal introductions are made once we’re all seated. The older one is Detective Henderson and the younger, Officer Conway. They are making small talk with Jericho as Barrett stands against the wall, arms folded defensively. Officer Conway stares at me openly. I can almost see the thoughts scurrying about in his head, the scenarios he’s imagining, the questions he wishes to ask. Finally, I interrupt them.

“I don’t understand. If you’re not here to talk about my father, then why are you here?”

“We are here to talk about your father,” the detective says. “We just didn’t realize that you were also here. We came to discuss with Mr Priest why it was that his head of security, Mr Barrett here, attempted to visit your father in prison before he escaped.”

“We don’t know he escaped,” the younger officer corrects.

The detective rolls his eyes. “Before your father went missing.” He flashes a tight smile the younger officer’s way.

“You tried to visit my father?” For some reason the revelation hurts. It reinforces my suspicions of Jericho and judging from the way my chest tightens, I don’t want it to.

“I was merely there to check your background, Miss Berkley,” Barrett says. “There were inaccuracies regarding the information you provided.”

The detective starts to question Jericho, but I barely listen. My mind has clouded over, thick with images of my father and his possible connection to Jericho. When they ask me questions, I stumble through the answers.

Do I know where my father is?

When was the last time I spoke to him?

What did we discuss?

Do I know of my father’s plans?

Have I had any contact with his known associates?

Do I believe he will try to make contact with me?

They ask the same things over and over, just framed in different ways. It’s the detective who asks all the questions. The younger one just sits and stares at me, eyes narrowed in suspicion. There’s something off-putting about him. Something that makes my skin crawl. It’s in the way he looks at me. But all I can think about is the fact that Jericho Priest knows exactly who I am. He’s always known.

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