An unspoken question hung in the air. Harley nodded, but she did not share his excitement. There was no glamor in the memory.

Her dad said, Theyre also saying you and that other agent saved his last victim just before she would have been buried alive.

It was a team effort, Harley answered, uncomfortable with this scrutiny. She was waiting for the conversation to turn sour, for her father to tell her she was a fool to put herself in such danger. That was the father she remembered: a man who preferred Monday-morning quarterbacking to leading the huddle.

He surprised her, however, with a faint smile, barely visible in the shadows of the room. How about that, he murmured. My daughter, out catching killers. Your mother wouldve been proud.

Harley thought of reminding him shed been doing this for years, even if he had just now started to notice. But maybe it didnt hit home for him until he saw it on the local news.

About before, she began, thinking this might be their last chance to bury the hatchet. She didnt want to have any words still trapped inside her when she stood by his casket. She wanted to get it all out now, clear the air.

Before she could continue, however, he waved his hand dismissively in the air. Forget about it. Water under the bridge.

Harley sighed, willing herself to be patient. Dad, thats just itI cant do that anymore, cant pretend everythings okay. I cant just move on. Some things have to be dealt with.

There was a familiar flash of anger in the old mans eyes. Here she comes to tell me everything I did wrong twenty years ago. I was a single parent, okay? I did my best. You always had a roof over your head and food on the table.

Harley was shocked at his shortsightedness. Dad, I needed a fathernot just a place to board. The day Kelly disappeared; it was like you forgot I even existed.

The old man closed his eyes at the mention of his lost daughters name, his jaw clenching.

You were never home, Harley continued, feeling all the old hurt come rising to the surface. Youd go straight from the mines to the bar. It was like you thought that if you didnt come back, if you didnt see her bedroom, you could pretend shed never existed.

She paused. Part of her wanted to hold back (he was a dying old man, after all), but in her heart she knew there was no kindness in withholding the truth. He needed to hear it straight, and she needed to get it off her chest.

You know what Greg used to tell me when you started drinking? she added, her heartbeat quickening. Grief looks different for different people. He just needs some time. But thats not really what you needed, was it?