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TALLIE

“ W ow.” I looked around my son’s new room and smiled. “It’s really coming together.”

“Um-hmm.” Ford was sitting cross-legged on the floor as he worked to remove the backing off of a glow-in-the-dark star. “Where do you think this one should go?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see.” I glanced around at all the stickers we’d already put up, then suggested, “How about right there, next to the moon? We can put several there like it’s the Big Dipper.”

“That’d be cool,” he answered with a satisfied grin.

We’d been working on his room for hours. He wanted a space theme, so I filled the walls with posters of astronauts and hung rockets and the solar system from the ceiling. I thought the stars would give it that special touch, and he was thrilled with the idea.

I watched as he stepped up on the chair and placed the sticker on the wall. He looked at it for a moment, then nodded with a smile. That smile warmed my heart. For the first time in a while, Ford looked truly happy—and it made me feel like maybe I’d done something right by moving us back here.

Once we finished with the stickers, we started unboxing his toys and books. We were busy lining them on his bookshelf when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I glanced over, and my stomach twisted into a knot when I saw Dad on the screen.

Noting my grimace, Ford paused and asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Grandpa,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Why don’t you finish the books while I take this?”

He shrugged and went back to work, but I could feel his curious eyes on me as I walked out of the room. As much as I didn’t want to speak to my father, I knew he would just keep calling until I answered. I swallowed hard before saying, “Hey, Dad.”

“Hi, Tallie. This is Janice.” Janice was my father’s secretary, and I wasn’t exactly a fan of hers. She always had an air to her voice that I found off-putting, and tonight was no different. “He would like to see you in his office this afternoon at six.”

“That’s not possible. I’m at the apartment with Ford, and I...”

“I understand,” she interrupted. “But he insisted that you be here promptly at six.”

“Aren’t you already closed by then?”

“Your father’s last client is at five-thirty. He will see you right after.”

“And what’s this in regard to?”

“I believe it has to do with some paperwork that needs to be submitted for your studio lease.”

“What!” While I wasn’t thrilled about him being involved in my acquiring my new shop, Dad was the best attorney in the state. I knew he wouldn’t let me get taken advantage of, but as far as I knew, all the arrangements had already been finalized. “I thought he already submitted the paperwork.”

“That’s something you will need to discuss with him at six.”

I didn’t bother responding.

I just hung up and groaned. Ford poked his head out of his bedroom door. Noting the quick change in my mood, he looked up at me with worried eyes. “Are you mad?”

“Yeah, a little.” I ran my hand along the back of my neck, trying to ease the building tension in my shoulders. “I have to go into the city to see your grandfather.”

“Oh.” His nose crinkled. “Do I have to go?”

Ford wasn’t a fan of my father either and rightly so.

Dad had never treated him like a grandson—more like a terrible mistake. He never talked to him, much less held him or touched him. He seemed repulsed by him, and his repulsion only got worse after Holt’s death.

Needless to say, I couldn’t blame Ford for not wanting to see him. But with such short notice, I didn’t have anyone to look after him. “Afraid so, buddy.”

“Ah, man.” I took the books from his hands as he pouted, “We have to go now?”

“We do, but if you’re good, we can grab some takeout on the way home.”

“Can we get some Mannie’s?”

“Sure!”

“Awesome.”

With that, he shot up and raced to the living room to put on his shoes.

Once he was done, we gathered our things and hurried out to my car. The drive over to Dad’s office was quiet. Ford sat in the backseat, humming some song he’d made up while fiddling with his favorite dinosaur toy. I tried to stay calm, but my mind was racing.

I couldn’t imagine why my father was so intent on seeing me at such an odd time of night. I’d like to think that he had a good reason—he wanted to see me or check on things at the shop—but my father didn’t think like that. He was too self-centered to think about anyone but himself.

It was that thought that had me thinking about that day—the one that had haunted me for eight years.

It was just like any other day. I’d been babysitting one of the kids next door, and I’d come home to get ready for my date with Holt. We were going to the drive-in with a couple of friends, and I wanted to take a quick shower before we left.

I wasn't expecting anything to be different when I walked through the front door. It was the same door I'd passed through a million times before, and I saw nothing unusual until I reached my bedroom. When I walked in, my mother was standing by my open closet, and she was pulling my clothes from their hangers and folding them neatly into a suitcase on my bed.

She hadn’t told me anything about us leaving on a trip, so I asked, “What are you doing?”

My voice came out sharper than I intended, but she didn’t flinch. She didn’t even pause. She just kept folding away like it was no big deal. Her tone was cold and eerily calm as she told me, “Your father has worked it out for you to go to école des Beaux.”

“In Paris?”

“Yes.” She glanced over her shoulder with a forced smile. “Isn’t that wonderful news?”

“What? No. We’ve talked about this! I don’t want to go away to school.”

“It’s what’s best.”

“No! I’m not going!”

“Yes, Tallie. You are.”

"But why?”

“It’s what’s best for you.” Mom wouldn’t even look at me. She just kept folding my clothes like she wasn’t dismantling my life piece by piece. “You’re too distracted here.”

“Distracted? By what?” And then, it hit me. “Is this about Holt?”

“He’s not good enough for you, sweetheart. It’s time to start thinking about your future. You deserve more than what he can give.”

“He can give me all I need.”

“This isn’t up for discussion. Your father has made arrangements, and you’re going.”

“What arrangements?”

“He’s spoken with the headmaster and got you an early acceptance. You’ll be staying with your aunt Genevieve until classes start and...”

“You can’t do this.”

The room started spinning, but this wasn’t the kind of dizziness that came from standing up too fast. This was the kind of spinning that comes when your entire world tilts on its axis, leaving you clinging onto anything that can keep you from falling.

I didn’t know what to do.

This wasn’t what I wanted.

I had plans.

We had plans.

“Please don’t do this.” My voice broke, and tears started to stream down my face. “I love him, Mom. I love him so much.”

“I know you do, but that will change.” She didn’t show even a flicker of sympathy when she told me, “What matters is your future, and your father knows what’s best.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I needed to get out.

I needed to find Holt.

My heart was pounding as I whipped around and started out of the room. The second I hit the hallway he was there.

My father.

His jaw was clenched, and his gaze was hard and unyielding.

Without a word, he grabbed my arm, and his grip was firm as he steered me toward the front door. My pleas caught in my throat, but they didn’t matter. They were useless against the steel wall of his authority. He gave no explanations. No goodbyes. Just cold silence and the sound of my heart shattering with every step toward the waiting car.

They loaded my things into the trunk, and neither of them spoke as the driver took us to the private airstrip. I was a mess of tears and muffled sobs, but my father never even looked at me.

Once we got to the airfield, he gave me a harsh look and demanded that I give him my phone. I knew I had no chance of changing his mind, so I handed it over and got on the plane. When the doors closed behind me, it felt like I’d been sealed away from my family, my friends, and most of all, Holt. I’d just lost everything I loved.

It was at that moment that I realized this whole thing wasn’t about me and what I wanted. And it wasn’t about my parents doing what was best for me.

It was about control, and my father’s hunger for it.

It was always about control.

I knew that. Everyone who knew him knew that. It was one of the many reasons I had an uneasy feeling as I got closer to his office. That uneasy feeling grew even more intense when we pulled into the parking lot, and I saw that everyone had already gone for the day. I parked near the entrance, grabbed Ford’s hand, and hurried inside. The elevator ride up felt like it took forever, but when the doors finally opened, neither of us moved.

Knowing they were just going to close again, I nodded toward the hall and said, “Let’s get this over with.”

Ford sighed and followed as I stepped out of the elevator. As we neared Dad’s office, I heard his voice—sharp, angry, and louder than I’d ever heard before. “You don’t get to dictate terms to me !”

There was a response, but it was too muffled for me to hear.

“I don’t care what he said. I’m the one in control here,” he bellowed, the words echoing down the hallway.

Ford looked up at me with wide, curious eyes. I was tempted to just turn around and head back out to the car when the unmistakable crack of gunshots rang out, sharp and deafening.

I froze.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I tried to make sense of what I’d heard. Instinct kicked in, and I yanked Ford into the supply closet just a few feet away. I pressed him into the corner and crouched down in front of him, shielding him with my body. He sounded like he was on the brink of tears as he muttered, “Momma?”

“Shh, baby,” I whispered back, placing a finger to his lips.

My hands shook as I peeked through the slats of the door.

Two men burst out of Dad’s office. They were both dressed in dark suits, and their faces were cold and hard as they started down the hall. One still had his gun drawn while the other barked something I couldn’t make out. Seconds later, they were gone, leaving me and Ford completely panic-stricken.

I clung protectively to Ford as I strained to listen for any movement in the office. I didn’t know what to do. My mind screamed at me to stay put, but my heart pleaded for me to check on my dad.

Knowing I had to do something, I leaned down and brushed Ford’s dark curls back from his face. “I need you to do something for me... I need you to stay here until I come for you. Can you do that?”

“No, Momma.” He shook his head fiercely as his little hands reached out for me. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, sweetie. But I need to go check on Grandpa.” I gave him a tight squeeze. “I’ll only be a minute. Be brave for me, okay?”

He didn’t let go at first, but eventually, he nodded.

“Stay right here,” I insisted. “No matter what.”

He nodded again, and I reached for the doorknob. I hesitated for a moment, then slipped out before I could lose my nerve. I quietly eased the door shut, then pulled out my phone and dialed 911. I didn’t press send immediately. Dad was a powerful businessman, and he was very conservative. He would be furious if I called the police for nothing. I needed to check first.

The hallway felt cold and hollow as I started down to my father’s office. The silence was heavy, and it grew heavier with each and every step.

When I reached the door, it was already ajar.

I pushed it open just enough to see inside, and my breath caught when I scanned the room and spotted a figure lying on the floor. I stepped closer, and as I feared, it was my father.

He was balled up in a crumpled heap, and blood was pooling beneath him, dark and sticky. It had already spread across the polished wood like ink spilled from a bottle. I quickly pressed the call button on my phone, and as I waited for the dispatcher, I tried to access what happened.

I knelt down beside Dad, and that’s when I saw that the gunshots had torn through his chest and shoulder. His shirt was soaked through, and he was barely breathing. Each wheezing gasp was a struggle. His face was pale and slick with sweat, and there was blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He was always so strong and commanding. I thought the man was invincible, and it broke me to discover that I was wrong.

My voice trembled as I told the dispatcher everything that had happened. She made me stay on the phone and wait as she sent help. As I stood there listening to her try to calm me down, I couldn’t help but think about my relationship with my father. We’d had our disagreements, and there were times I thought I would never speak to him again.

But I didn’t want him to die.

He was my father, and through it all, I loved him.

“Dad.” My hands hovered uselessly, unsure of where to touch or what to do. “Dad, please…”

His eyes fluttered open at the sound of my voice. There was just a sliver of the sharp, steely focus left in them. “Oh, Tallie…”

His words came out as a ragged cough. More blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost him.

“You’re gonna be okay,” I assured him as tears rolled down my face. It was a lie. I knew that. There was too much blood. It was everywhere. I pressed one hand to the wound on his chest, trying to stop it from pouring from the wound, but it just kept coming. “Just hang on, okay?”

“I’m… sorry, Tal.”

The dispatcher assured me that help was on the way, but it wasn’t coming soon enough. I was losing him. I saw our lives together flash before my eyes—him carrying me around on his shoulders, playing ball in the backyard with Rooks, the Christmas mornings when he wore that silly Santa hat, and all the school plays where he sat in the front row, watching me with pride in his eyes. All of that was slipping away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Help is coming. I just...”

His hand shot up and gripped my wrist with surprising strength, and I froze. His lips moved, barely forming words, but I leaned closer. His voice was so faint I could barely make it out as he whispered, “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have… He’s not…”

“It’s okay, Dad. Don’t try to talk. Just breathe.”

“They will... come... for you... All of you.”

“Who will come?” When he didn’t answer, I repeated, “Who is coming, Dad? Who did this to you?”

His grip loosened, and his breath rattled in his chest as he exhaled one last time.

Then nothing.

Just stillness.

The room seemed to collapse around me—every inch of it suffocating me in the awful quiet he’d left behind. I shook my head and pressed my bloodied hand to his shoulder. “No, Daddy. Don’t go! Don’t leave me.”

But it was too late.

He was already gone.

I don’t know how long I sat there staring at him as the warmth of his blood soaked into my jeans. My mind felt empty, and my body numb. I tried, but I couldn’t process what had just happened. My father was dead, but more than that, he was dead because someone had murdered him.

The sound of shuffling footsteps pulled me from my thoughts.

Ford.

I didn’t want him to see his grandfather like this, so I scrambled to my feet. I wiped the tears from my eyes as I turned toward the door. My blood-slick palms left smudges on the desk as I steadied myself. I rushed over to Ford and wrapped my arms around him. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Even as I said the words, I didn’t believe them.

Half an hour later, the streets were lined with lights, and the office was filled with cops and firefighters. I stood in the corner and watched as the EMTs rushed in. One of them asked me questions while the others tried to revive my father. Their voices were a distant hum beneath the pounding in my ears. The cold seeped deep into my bones, but it wasn’t from the room. It was from the hollow ache spreading through my chest.

I felt numb.

Disconnected.

Weightless. It was like I was watching it all through a pane of glass. When they carried his lifeless body out of the office, that hollow ache grew to the point I feared it would swallow me up whole.

Once they were gone, a detective came over and asked to speak with me. Seconds later, I was sitting in one of the empty offices answering questions I had no idea how to answer. Someone had called my mother, and she was waiting outside the door with Ford. I was doing my best to hold it together as the detective pushed, “Is there anything more you can tell us?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“You can’t describe either of them?”

“I wish I could, but it all happened so fast,” I explained once again. “I only saw them through the slats in the closet door. I wasn’t able to see their faces.”

“I see,” Detective Joyner muttered as he jotted something down on his notepad. “And about what time did you arrive at his office?”

“I’ve already answered that and all of your other questions.”

“I’m aware, but it’s important that we go over it again. It’s the best way to make sure we don’t miss anything.”

“Okay. It was right around six. The office was already closed, but Joyce told me he had an appointment at five-thirty, and he would see me right after.”

I wasn’t a fan of Detective Joyner. Not because of his rotund physic or receding hairline, but because he was arrogant and coy, and he had this annoying habit of sucking air between his teeth.

It didn’t help matters that I was freezing. I wrapped my arms tighter around me, hoping it might help ease the chill that had seeped into my bones, but it did little to help. I was still trembling, and it only seemed to make my nerves worse. I was struggling to keep it together, and Detective Joyner knew it.

His face was a mask of practiced sympathy, and it did little to make me feel any better. In fact, it made me feel worse. “So, you go to his office after closing hours, and you ride the elevator up to the second floor. When you start to your father’s office, you hear the gunshots…”

“No, I heard my father talking first. He was yelling about something, but I can’t remember what was said.”

I went over everything again, and when I was done, I added, “I’m sorry. That’s all I know.”

“And you’re sure you don’t know anyone who might want to harm your father.”

“There’s no telling.” I sighed. “My father and I weren’t as close as we used to be, so I really don’t know what was going on with him.”

“Okay.” Joyner closed his notebook as he stood and said, “You’ve been very helpful, Ms. Warren.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more.”

“You’ve given us more than you think.”

I had no idea what he’d meant by that, but I didn’t question it.

I simply nodded and said, “I’m glad I could help.”

“I will need to question your mother and son.”

“Why would you need to question my son? He didn’t see anything.”

“Maybe not, but there’s always the chance that he picked up on something you didn’t.”

“Okay, but can it wait until tomorrow? It’s late, and he’s been through enough for one day.”

“Absolutely.” His expression softened as he said, “I know this is difficult. Losing someone is hard enough without all this red tape, but we’re doing everything we can to bring you answers.”

Answers.

That was something we all wanted—the police, my mother, and especially me. I wanted to know the why, the how, and the who. Maybe then, I wouldn’t feel like my life was unraveling.

“I appreciate it.”

“If you think of anything, even something you think is small and insignificant, please reach out. It could make the difference between us finding and not finding the men who killed your father.”

“I will. Thank you, Detective Joyner.”

This whole thing felt so surreal.

Just hours ago, I was in my new apartment, and my heart was full of hope and excitement. Now, my father was gone, my world was in utter chaos, and all I had was a promise from a man who didn’t understand what I’d just lost or what I stood to lose.