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"Flynn," his father said, stopping there, as if he didn't know what words should come next.
He didn't know, either. He also didn't even know if he could call him Dad. "How did you get into my house?" He wasn't sure why those were the first words to come out of his mouth, but there they were.
"Does it matter? What's important is that you came. I wasn't sure you would."
"Nor was I. What do you want?"
"I want to help you."
"Why?" he asked harshly. "You left me and Mom to fend for ourselves a very long time ago. You know I can arrest you, don't you? If you had my address, I'm sure you're aware that I'm a federal agent."
"And that you spent years trying to find me and put me away. I'm aware," his father returned.
"But I was unsuccessful. You stayed out of sight, out of my reach, until now. Why?"
"Someone wants to kill you, and I don't want that to happen."
"Other people have tried to kill me; I didn't see you around then"
"This is different, Flynn. I can help you now. I can show you how to find Arthur Corbyn's killer."
He sucked in a breath at the mention of Arthur. "How do you know Arthur?"
"I met him years ago, before I ever left Laguna Beach."
He shook his head at that impossible idea. "No way. Arthur didn't know you."
"He did. He came into the gallery several times. I sold him a painting by Veritas, and I helped him hang it in his living room."
He stared at his father in shock. He'd seen that painting a thousand times. He'd sat on the couch right beneath it. Arthur had never admitted to knowing his father, to having bought art from him or his gallery. And Arthur had had plenty of chances to mention that encounter.Why had he hidden it?
"Was the painting stolen?" he asked. "Is that why Arthur never told me that he knew you?"
"I told him not to tell you shortly after I realized you were dating his daughter. You were happy, and I thought if you knew that Arthur and I had had dealings together, you would be crushed again."
"So he kept your secret. And you kept his." He felt incredibly disappointed.
"Yes."
"Where did you go after you left Laguna? Where have you been?"
"A lot of places, but I never stopped keeping an eye on you. I've always known where you were, Flynn—what you were doing. I admit I was shocked when you joined the FBI. And when you started searching for me, I realized the depth of the hatred you had for me."
"You're right. I do hate you," he said flatly. "Why am I here? What is this all about?"
His father's jaw tightened, as if he hadn't been expecting such hard honesty. "It's about wanting to do right by Arthur and by you. You're involved with his stepdaughter now."
"Leave Callie out of this."
"She's a beautiful young woman. She makes you smile."
His skin crawled. "You've been watching us?"
"Only from afar. I wasn't in the house last night, if you're worrying about that. I left the envelope for you earlier in the day, but I did see you come home together."
"Cut to the chase. Why did you send me a photo of that painting?"
"Because I realized after you pulled it out of the house in Palm Springs exactly who had killed Arthur."