CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Haddie pulled up to the clinic and the lights of the RAV4 shone through the rain against the wet chrome of Dad’s Shovelhead. Turning off the engine, she sat staring at the glass door of the building. “I want to be alone. I’ll be fine.”

Dad’s face had been so serious during their discussion. Marred with bruises and his misshapen nose, he acted as he always did, deliberate and concise. He still hadn’t raised his gaiter or glasses again. If she turned, he would be looking at her with dark eyes and strong features, unaware that he lived in a delusion. Somehow, he seemed older. Why was I so sure he hadn’t aged?

They sat in silence for a moment. Aquavit made for a familiar scent in the confined space. She could still taste her beer and her stomach felt queasy. She waited. If she got out and went into the vet’s, he might follow. Haddie couldn’t deal with him — with the swirling, staggering feelings about him. How long had he believed all those things he said?

“Okay. I’ll check in a few hours from now.” He pulled up his gaiter and settled the glasses over his eyes. Wiping a gloved hand over his hair, he paused as if she might reply.

She hadn’t expected him to agree so readily. He wouldn’t let her go back to her apartment, and she didn’t want to. I can stay with Liz. Haddie sat silently.

Howling wind gusted in as he opened the door. He strode past her headlights, oblivious to the downpour. His skull cap helmet had been sitting on his seat the entire time.

When the rumble of his Shovelhead faded as he rode away, she tucked her bandaged arm under her wet sweatshirt and stepped out. She felt numb, as if her emotions had been washed away. Rock slept in the back somewhere. Safe. Blue chairs waited for her. It would be hours before they would let her see him. She stood dripping on worn, yellowed tiles when the tech opened the door to look into the waiting room. His plump face nodded in recognition and disappeared, leaving her alone.

Her dad, delusional, had made it clear that she couldn’t expect, or need, answers from him. Had she imagined that he didn’t age? With all the bruises, he looked older. What about Harold Holmes? Did his bruises, this purpura, mean anything? Maybe in her dad’s mind. She tried to put it in the little box with her feelings, but it nagged at her. She should have interviewed the British businessman. He had an office in the same building as the deceased. If she didn’t believe her dad, then why did the matching bruises matter?

I’m tired. I shouldn’t be thinking. Haddie dropped down to one of the chairs, exhausted. Rock was safe — for the moment. Liz would be waiting for a call in the morning and likely be gracious about being right. Later, she’d berate Haddie for not listening.

The constant waterfalls outside sung in a soothing rhythm like waves on a beach. It hadn’t been a day since she’d ridden to Portland at sunrise. The calls and internet searches swirled with the mugging and Rock being shot. Dad’s face — grim and serious as he drank aquavit and spouted nonsense.

Her phone vibrated in her jean pocket, and Haddie blinked her eyes open. Crusty and dry, they fought her. She lay on the row of chairs, the lip of one biting into her hip where it peaked to the gap between the next. Her bandaged arm ached and pinched sharply as she rose. She had dreamed of Dad and Mel — of purple faces and fire. Her clothes smelled wet and her tongue tasted like paste. How long had she slept? It still looked dark and gray outside. Water poured off the roof.

Sam’s name showed on the display.

Damn. Haddie had never called her. “I’m sorry, Hon. Rock’s okay. I — I fell asleep.”

“Good.” Sam sniffled. “I was sure he was.”

Haddie blinked, trying to focus. The images from nightmares still danced in her head. She’d been unfair to Sam. “I’m really sorry, Sam. Have you slept?” What time was it? She couldn’t see the screen. She stood with effort, stumbling; the bathroom was at the opposite end of the waiting room.

“I couldn’t sleep, not really. I’m really scared for you — and Rock. You’re not coming back, are you?” The question sounded painful to Sam.

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Haddie planned on calling Liz. Beyond that, she had no idea how to deal with all of this. “I’ll probably sleep at Liz’s for a couple nights. Could you bring Jisoo over to your place? You said she gets along with everyone over there.” Sam had menagerie going on in her apartment.

Sam’s tone brightened. “Of course. I’ll go get her now.” Sounds of shuffling echoed through the phone. “Will you call me later?”

“Yes.” Haddie rubbed her eye with the back of her thumb, bringing the phone back to her ear quickly. “I’m really sorry for not calling.”

“No worries. I’m heading over to your apartment now.” Sam sounded excited. “Oh, you’re not mad about your dad — are you?”

“What about my dad?” Haddie stared at the bathroom door. What had he done?

“He pulled into your apartment when I was heading back to mine — from checking on Jisoo. She was hungry, but she seemed okay. He seemed upset about the shooting.”

That’s how he knew I was at the vet. “Oh, no. It’s okay. I thought you saw him this morning.” Haddie imagined him camped outside her house.

“No. I’ve been watching. Let me go get Jisoo, she’ll love playing with everyone. Bye.”

Eating their food is more like it. Haddie yawned. “Bye.” She could finally focus on the screen: 6:12.

She hadn’t had enough sleep. Frowning at herself for letting her friend down, she pocketed the phone and opened the bathroom door. A small, white-tiled room with a sink and toilet, it smelled of flowery disinfectant. Her body ached from the stiff chairs. She’d have done better in the RAV4, but she hadn’t planned on sleeping. Dad had been on her mind. What was she going to do about him? Taking a deep breath, she turned on the faucet and pushed him to the back of her mind.

She was still a mess when she came back out to the waiting room, but she’d at least washed her face. The storm outside still poured off the roof, and a coffee would mean a drive through it. Did she dare poke her head in the back and ask about Rock? Surely, he’d awakened by now.

Tentatively, she tapped on the door to the back. No one answered. She couldn’t just pound on it. Rock rested back there. I could call. She pulled out her phone and saw Liz in the call list. They needed to talk anyway. Liz would be up. Haddie dialed the number.

“Hey,” Liz answered immediately. “I didn’t think you’d be up yet.” Music in the background stopped. “How’d you sleep?”

Haddie grimaced. “Well, you were right. I should have stayed with you last night.”

“Haddie, what happened?”

“Someone broke into my apartment when I was sleeping. All I know is that they shot Rock.” Haddie spoke quickly, ignoring the sense of shame and getting it all out before Liz could interrupt. “He’s okay. I’m at the vet’s now.”

“What? Where? I’ll call into work and get the day off. I’m almost dressed, give me fifteen.” No recrimination in her voice, Liz was prepared to drop everything.

Haddie shook her head. She couldn’t drag her friend into her mess or skip work to deal with her. She didn’t know when Rock would be released. “No, no. I’ve got things I need to do this morning. I’ll be over when you get off work. I’ll have to get Rock over there at some point.” How, with one good arm, was she going to move him? “I might need your help with that.”

“They’re releasing him? That’s good.”

“I haven’t talked with them about that. I’m here waiting.” She didn’t want Liz to miss work. “I’ve got errands.”

“I can help. What do you need to do?”

Haddie took in a breath; usually, she’d be at the law firm Friday mornings. “I’ve got an interview with a potential witness.”

“Who?” Liz sounded skeptical. “I thought you said Andrea wanted you to rest for a few days. Gave you time off.”

Haddie paced across the waiting room. She didn’t want to lie to Liz, but didn’t want her taking the day off work either. “I’m thinking about tracking down Harold Holmes; he has an office by the victim. I’d imagine he might have some insight on Mark’s business dealings, maybe people who visited the office regularly.”

It actually made sense. Mark’s secretary, Jasmine, might not have realized that a frequent visitor could be important. Haddie had never thought to ask. She still had the woman’s number.

“Haddie, shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I slept here, at the clinic.” Haddie twisted her back, wincing as the movement tugged on her bad arm. “I’ve got to find out what the plan is with Rock — and grab a bag of stuff from the apartment, if we’re doing a sleepover.”

Liz laughed. “Okay. But drop by work when you need a key to get in.”

There was no reason Haddie couldn’t take a nap at her apartment — in broad daylight. She’d be out before dark. “What time do you get off?”

“5:30.”

“I’ll probably just see you then.”

“Okay,” Liz said. “Stay safe.”

Haddie strode back to the door at the back of the clinic and tapped on it again. Still, no answer. The employee probably had an office deeper within. She scrolled back to find the call she made to the vet on the drive over. She’d called Dad just before that. Why didn’t he call back? What had he planned to do when he dropped by her apartment in the middle of the night? Sam just said she intercepted him. He likely would have slept outside and guarded the apartment. A little late. Her cheeks flushed warm. He cared about her, always had, even if he was delusional. If she’d listened to Liz, she’d still be sleeping, and Rock would be fine. This was her fault, no one else’s.

Voices sounded in the hall beyond the door, and Haddie stepped away. The doctor, or the next shift? The door opened.

A middle-aged woman with a sly smile and light brown skin opened the door. “Are you Rock’s mom? He’s up if you want to come say good morning.”