Page 27 of Little Child Gone (Nikki Hunt #10)

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Rebecca laid the sleeping toddler into the pack-and-play in her mother’s bedroom, listening to the rising voices in the adjacent room.

“Dad, what is wrong with you?” Stephanie had barely even acknowledged her mother or Rebecca when she’d stormed into the house.

She hadn’t figured out the entire situation yet, but Rebecca was pretty sure that Mr. Karl, as her mother called him, had hired them without consulting Stephanie.

From the way she shouted, consulting Stephanie must be a requirement before doing anything in the Hendrickson house.

Mr. Karl’s response was too soft for Rebecca to hear. He seemed so gruff and quiet, and no-nonsense. How could he allow his daughter to yell at him like that? Didn’t she realize how lucky she was to still have her father even though he was in his eighties?

Rebecca slipped out of the room and leaned against the wall by the kitchen. She couldn’t see her mother or Karl sitting at the table, but Stephanie paced the kitchen like an angry cat.

“Did you even run a background check?” Stephanie demanded. “Does she speak English?”

The disdain in Stephanie’s voice brought Rebecca out of the shadow. “Excuse me? She speaks Spanish, English and French. How many languages do you speak?”

Stephanie stopped pacing and glared up at Rebecca, who still stood on the top stair leading down into the kitchen. “What did you say to me, child?”

“I’m eighteen,” Rebecca snapped back.

“Then you should get a job and stop sponging off my elderly father.”

“We aren’t sponging,” Rebecca answered. “We’re taking care of him and this house because you won’t. All you care about is getting his money.”

Stephanie was fast, but she hadn’t spent the last few years ducking fists. Rebecca blocked the smack and caught Stephanie by the wrist. The woman stared in shock before yanking her hand away. “How dare you speak to me that way!”

“How dare you speak to my mother that way,” Rebecca countered. “You don’t know anything about us, I promise you.”

Stephanie’s painted red lips curled into a cruel smile. “I don’t need to. I know moochers when I see them.”

“That’s enough.” Mr. Karl finally spoke. He used his cane to push himself to his feet and then pointed the cane at Stephanie. “Leave now before I say something I will regret.”

“Dad—” Stephanie started.

“No.” Mr. Karl waggled the cane. “I’m done trying to keep the peace. I don’t know where your mother and I went wrong, but this isn’t the daughter we raised.”

Stephanie’s face turned red. “You didn’t raise me, you lazy shit. You passed that off to Mom and the nanny.”

“Get out.” Mr. Karl’s entire frame trembled. “Don’t you dare set foot in this house again.”