“You sure, darlin’?” he asks.

I look down at his sketch knowing it’s useless. “Yes.”

“All right, you can call Miles or Tucker if you recall anything else and I’ll come meet with you again.”

“Thank you.” I grab my bag off the floor next to the chair I was sitting in, then turn around and start toward the door, daring either of the men standing almost in front of it to try to stop me. After I bypass the two of them, I step out into the hall and stop where Miles is waiting.

“You all right?” Miles asks looking over the top of my head.

I can only shrug. The truth is I’m not. I’m tired, and stressed, and everything in between. And more so now than I even was before.

“I gave Johnny what I could, which wasn’t much. I’m sorry.”

“Any little bit helps.” He reaches out, rubbing my arm.

“Did you get a hold of Carly’s emergency contact or anyone in her family?”

“I’m waiting for a call back; I left a message.”

“Will you pass along my number? I mean I know it’s probably against some rule, but I’d like to talk to them and share how sorry I am for their loss.”

“I can do that.” He agrees quietly and I nod, then look behind me. My dad doesn’t look any happier than he did just a minute ago. Actually, he looks like he wants to pick me up and toss me over his shoulder, while Clay looks like he’s worried, only I’m sure that he’s only worried about me. Not surprisingly, he doesn’t seem to care at all that my dad is here.

“Wish me luck,” I tell Miles.

He grins. “Something tells me that you’ll be just fine.”

“Hummm.” I start walking through the station toward the front entrance with both men following close behind me. As soon as we all get outside, I stop on the sidewalk and focus on my dad when he calls my name.

“You and I need to have a talk,” Dad says.

I feel Clay get close, so close that his arm brushes against mine.

“I know and we will, just not tonight, please.” I really don’t want to be interrogated by him—not after today—and I know that’s what any conversation with him would consist of: a million and one questions that I might or might not be able to answer and some that I probably just won’t want to.

“All right,” he agrees after a long moment and my muscles relax.

“Thanks, Dad.” I walk toward him, and he opens up his arms. As soon as I’m in his embrace he wraps me in a tight hug.

“You’ve always had to be so fucking stubborn, just like your mom.”

“I know.” I don’t even deny it because ever since I was little, I’ve pushed back and driven him crazy by not doing exactly what he wanted. I love my dad, I love the way he loves our family, and I appreciate that he’s always made keeping us safe a priority, but there have been times where his protectiveness has been suffocating. Especially when it comes to my sisters and me. My brothers always had a chance to grow and stretch their wings, and we did too, but within limits. And that’s probably why I’ve tended to rebel when I’ve felt too stifled.