“Tex.”

“Dad,” I said back, mimicking his deadpan voice. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” he grunted.

He put the gun down and picked up his pack of cigarettes. I could already hear my mother groaning about the smell. He slid one out and stuffed it into his mouth before lighting it, and his gaze finally fell on me again.

“What do you need?”

I stiffened. “Can’t I just want to come and visit my family?”

He blew out a cloud of smoke. “No.”

He’s as lovely as always. I reached over and snagged one of his cigarettes. He looked like he wanted to smack my hand the way he used to when I was a child. Instead he simply grunted, let me take a smoke, and lit it. Nicotine rushed through my body. I was able to breathe and push down the urge to shove him out of that chair and pummel him until he stopped being such a dick.

You know he’d kick your ass. He might be older now, but that man is strong.

That thought made me feel small beneath his gaze. As it always did. I blew out a cloud of smoke, glanced over my shoulder to make sure my mother was out of earshot and stared at the old man.

“I need some of your old case files on the Vitales. The chief has me working on them, and I figured you might have some things other people don’t. Notes, recordings, anything.”

He looked me up and down. “Leave it alone.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can,” he said. “I doubt the chief has you working on anything like that. Do I need to call and ask?”

Suddenly I was transported back to being a kid, sitting in front of my father while he glared down at me and threatened to call my principal. My shoulders tried to slump, but I shoved them back and held my head up. I wasn’t a child anymore. His words didn’t have nearly the effect on me that they used to. Or at least I tried not to let them.

“This will help me make detective.”

“No,” he grunted. “It’s going to get you killed.” He shoved a finger in my direction. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll drop this case and leave it the fuck alone.”

He reached for his cane and tried to pull himself up. I moved on instinct, standing up and running over to help him to his feet. What I got was a cane shoved into my stomach.

“Did I ask for your help?”

You never do, asshole.

“No,” I muttered.

“Then get the hell off me,” he said as he tried again and rose slowly, a flash of pain showing on his face before it was gone. “Anything else?” he asked.

“I still need those files.”

“Are you hard of hearing, boy?”

I gritted my teeth and ignored the urge to tell him to fuck off. “Nope,” I answered. “Just determined. You used to tell me I lacked ambition and wouldn’t get anywhere in life. Now I’m trying, and you’re shutting me down.”