"It's not okay," I said in frustration. "Someone tried to kill me. And I'm pretty sure it's the same person who shot my mother, so please tell me you've figured something out."

"Your father checked into the Hillcrest Hotel on Nob Hill on Thursday afternoon. He hasn't checked out yet, but he was not in the room when we went to find him."

My heart flipped over. "Oh. I wasn't expecting you to say that."

"There was an open suitcase in the room, so it doesn't appear that he's left town."

I straightened. "Well, my father didn't try to run me over. He wasn't driving that car."

"You're absolutely sure about that?"

"He's my dad," I said, my stomach churning. "Of course, I'm sure. He would never hurt me. He would never hurt my mother. It's someone else." I felt almost desperate to convince him.

"We're not just focused on your father," the inspector reassured me. "But we need to talk to him. You still haven't heard from him?"

I gave a negative shake of my head, then said, "What about my stepmother? Did she tell you anything she didn't tell me?"

"No. She said she'd only speak to me with her lawyer on the call. We've set that up for later today. In the meantime, I've asked patrol to keep an eye on your mother's house. I'll have security escort you to your car when you're ready to leave, but you should watch your back. And you might want to consider leaving the city."

"I'll think about it," I murmured.

"Security will be waiting for you when you're discharged."

"Thank you."

The nurse returned a few minutes later. I signed the release forms and then left the ER with a security guard by my side as I made my way to my car. I didn't take a full breath until I was locked in and driving out of the lot.

It felt marginally better to be back in control. But now what?

I didn't know where to go, what to do. I needed to talk to someone, and the only person I could think of was Kade. I pulled over and called him. He didn't answer his phone. He was probably still at the gallery. I went on the internet and searched for an upcoming show by artist Kade Beckham. I found the name of the gallery and then started the car.

The gallery was only a couple of miles away, and with each passing minute, I questioned what I was doing. Kade was working. I had no right to interrupt that. But I couldn't seem to make myself turn around.