Olivia Benchet Bentz was good for Rick. No doubt about it. But she and Kristi didn’t really get along. And while Kristi loaded the car amidst her father’s disapproval, Olivia stood in the doorway twenty feet away, her smooth brow wrinkled in concern, her big eyes dark with worry, though she said nothing.

Good.

One thing about her, Olivia knew better than to get between father and daughter. She was smart enough not to add her unwanted two cents into any conversation. Yet, this time, she didn’t step back into the house.

“I just don’t think this is the best idea,” her father said…for what? The two-thousandth time since Kristi had dropped the bomb that she’d registered for winter classes at All Saints College in Baton Rouge? It wasn’t like this was a major surprise. She’d told him about her decision in September. “You could stay with us and—”

“I heard you the first time and the second, and the seventeenth and the three hundred and forty-second and—”

“Enough!” He held up a hand, palm out.

She snapped her mouth closed. Why was it they were always at each other? Even with everything they’d been through? Even though they’d almost lost each other several times?

“What part of ‘I’m moving out and going back to school away from New Orleans’ don’t you get, Dad? You’re wrong, I can’t stay here. I just…can’t. I’m way too old to be living with my dad. I need my own life.” How could she explain that looking at him day to day, seeing him healthy one minute, then gray and dying the next, was impossible to take? She’d been convinced he was going to die and had stayed with him as she’d recovered from her own injuries, but watching the color drain from his face killed her and half convinced her that she was crazy. For the love of God, staying here would only make things worse. The good news: she hadn’t seen the image for a while, over a month now, so maybe she’d read the signals wrong. Regardless, it was time to get on with her own life.

She reached into her bag for her keys. No reason to argue any further.

“Okay, okay, you’re going. I get it.” He scowled as clouds scudded low across the sky, blotting out any chance of sunlight.

“You get it? Really? After I told you, what? Like a million times?” Kristi mocked, but flashed him a smile. “See, you are a razor-sharp investigator. Just like all the papers say: local hero, Detective Rick Bentz.”

“The papers don’t know crap.”

“Another shrewd observation by the New Orleans Police Department’s ace detective.”