A.L. held up a hand to stop him. “Right now I’m talking to my daughter.”
And his sweet little girl, bless her feisty heart, pulled in a breath of air, stood straight and said, “It’s nice to see you, Dad. Regardless of how awkward the circumstances. I’m assuming you’d like some coffee.” She looked past him. “Hi, Rena. Coffee for you, too?”
“Hey, Traci. Yeah, coffee sounds great.”
Rena’s voice sounded far away but he was pretty sure it was only distorted by the head of steam he had going.
Traci turned to get two cups. Rena took the open stool to his left and Traci slid coffee in front of them. The restaurant was at least half full. There were other employees moving around, carrying food, dirty dishes. Customers were chatting. Laughing. All the normal activities of a restaurant.
Why the hell did he feel so damn abnormal? As if nothing was right?
“I thought this—” he waved his hand between Golf Course John and Traci “—was over.”
“Dad, can we talk about this later?” she asked. “I’m working.”
“You should tell him the truth, Tam,” Golf Course John said.
“Tam?” A.L. repeated.
“Traci Anne McKittridge,” Traci said.
Great. It had been going on long enough that they had their own secret shorthand. He turned to face Golf Course John. “You know this is not what I want,” he said, in his best hard-assed hiss.
To his credit, the man didn’t flinch. “With all due respect, sir. I’m more concerned with what your daughter wants.”
Traci put her hand on the counter, slid it forward so that her long fingers touched A.L.’s hand. “Dad, John has been the one telling me that I needed to tell you what was going on. I... I just couldn’t do it.” The buzzer on Traci’s hip sounded. “I’ve got food to carry out,” she said, turning fast.
That was good. He needed a minute. His daughter...his little girl who really wasn’t a little girl anymore...hadn’t felt as if she could come to him. Hadn’t thought it was safe to tell him the truth.
Kids lied. Told half truths. Evaded questions. It was part of the growing-up process. And Traci had been no different. But those had been mostly little things, things that didn’t matter. This mattered. Maybe not eventually but for right now, this thing with Golf Course John mattered to Traci. And how he handled it was going to affect their relationship for a long time.
Golf Course John had pushed away his half eaten breakfast and was gripping his coffee cup with both hands. He was staring straight ahead, as if the pie case was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.
Rena was sipping her coffee. He was ignoring his because he wasn’t sure his throat would work.
It took Traci five long minutes to return to the counter. When she did, she had the same look on her face that she’d had when he’d shown her how to clean her first fish. She was going to get through this, no matter how painful. “Dad, I’m sorry but—”
“Stop, honey. You’re right. This is not the time or place. When do you get off?”
“I work until 2:00.”
“Okay.” He turned to the young man on the stool next to him. “Will you be available at 2:00?”
“I can be,” he said.
“Good. I’ll meet the two of you at my apartment at 2:30.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill. “For the coffees,” he said.
Then he turned and walked out the door. He wasn’t sure Rena was behind him until he got twenty feet down the sidewalk.
“Good job, A.L.,” she said conversationally. “I didn’t want to be the primary witness for the prosecution on a murder charge.”
“She’s been lying to me for months. It was never over.”
“That’s what it looks like,” Rena said. “I have to give John credit, he didn’t fall off the stool when you glared at him.”
John, not Golf Course John. It was probably time for A.L. to call him by his name. “You think they’re sleeping together?”
“They might be,” Rena said. “She’s seventeen. I know what I was doing at seventeen.”
“That’s just great,” he said. For once, maybe Rena should have shielded the truth.
“Are you going to ask her?” Rena asked.
“That would be fucking uncomfortable,” he said.
“No pun intended,” Rena murmured.
A.L. sighed. “This is a mess, isn’t it?”
“Messy but not a mess. There’s a difference. Life is messy. But you did the right thing in stepping back from the conversation, not saying something that you’d be sorry for later. By 2:30, I’ll have locked up all the weapons in your apartment and it will be fine.”
“You’re making jokes at a time like this.”
“I’m not joking.”
“I won’t shoot him. I won’t strangle him. I don’t even know his last name.” They took another ten steps. “I should probably know that. Christ, I don’t want her to have to lie to me.”
“That’s right. You don’t,” Rena said. “Maybe you should call Tess. Get some advice from her.”
“She’d say something like, ‘The best things happen when people listen with their hearts.’”
“That’s nice,” Rena said.
“Maybe. Anyway, I don’t need to call her. This is between Traci and me.”
Rena put her hand on his arm. “You’re wrong, A.L. This is between you, Traci and John.”
“I’m not ready for somebody else to be part of the equation.”
“Yeah, but it looks as if your daughter is.”
Twenty
He had more than four hours before he had to talk to his daughter. And he very much needed to get his mind off that conversation. He was grateful when his cell rang and he saw that it was Dusty Frogg’s number. “It’s her,” he said, motioning for Rena to listen. “Detective McKittridge,” he answered.
“This is Dusty. Returning your call.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it. As I mentioned in my message, I’m a detective with the Baywood Police Department. Also on the line is Detective Morgan. We have an interest in talking with your son about an ongoing police investigation and wondered if you’d be able to assist me.”
“Coyote?” she asked.