Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Nora
M id-morning sun pours through the living room windows, and I wince at the brightness. Sleep was fleeting and fitful at best, the nightmare tainting any chance of rest. Each step I take now brings a fresh wave of discomfort, each bruise a reminder of last night’s chaos.
I feel like cat hack hardening on an old rug.
I had hoped showering would work out the worst of the kinks—no such luck.
I shuffle from the bottom of the stairs into the kitchen, hoping for some comfort—a warm breakfast would be nice.
That’s laughable. Family breakfasts ended when my mum died.
Breakfasts in the Kelly household consist of my dad pouring himself a black coffee and staring at his laptop while he crunches through a piece of burned toast.
I stop in the hallway and steady my nerves before going in.
My father is in his late forties, but the stress of his job is wearing on him. He’s got more salt than pepper in his hair these days, though I still wouldn’t want to challenge him to a chase or a fight. He may look unassuming in his suit, but he’s Irish, so he’s got fight woven into the marrow of his bones.
And more than a little alpha entitlement.
“Morning,” I mutter, heading straight for the counter and reaching for the bread.
“Where were you last night? The door notification had you coming in hours after your play ended.” His tone cuts through the air sharper than a knife, but he doesn’t lift his gaze from the files he has spread open on the table.
I pop a piece of toast down and unscrew the top of the peanut butter.
“If you’re planning to be late, it would be polite to let me know. There was trouble down the road from the theater and you know I worry. A quick text is all I ask.”
My toast pops and I slather it with peanut butter and then strawberry jam. After pouring a cup of tea, I take both to the sliver of empty table on the end opposite my father. “I couldn’t text you, because I was caught in that trouble last night, and my phone was smashed in the stampede.”
That brings his attention to me, and his gaze narrows. “Caught in the trouble, how?”
I take a deep breath and tell him what happened. How Tanya and I were going to meet Kate for a drink to cap off our night. How the shooting came from out of nowhere. How a stranger tackled me to safety, but Tanya wasn’t so lucky.
In the end, I’m proud my voice is steady right until I mention Tanya. There was no hope of saying her name and not choking up.
My father leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw clenching. “You should’ve called me when things got dangerous.”
I pause mid-bite. “It didn’t even cross my mind. My phone was broken, my friend was dead, and I had to give my statement to the authorities. There was a lot going on.”
He narrows those slate-gray eyes at me, like I’m the criminal in this scenario. “If you told the person running the scene who you were, they would’ve contacted me.”
I pull a heavy breath against lead lungs and toss my toast back onto my plate. “Can’t you just ask if I’m okay? Isn’t that more important than reading me the riot act for not following procedure? My life isn’t a case file to be scrutinized, Da. I’m your daughter. My friend is dead and none of it makes any sense.”
He opens his mouth as if to argue, but stops short when I glare back. “Yes, your friend is dead. And no, violence of this sort rarely makes sense. Don’t you understand I only want you to be safe? How does that make me a horrible father?”
I cup my tea in my palms. “I’ve never said you’re a horrible father, but sometimes I feel more like one of your informants being interrogated than your child.”
He grunts and opens another folder from the stack on the table. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
Dramatic? Me? He’s the one who envisions me getting raped or kidnapped at every turn. He’s the one who raised me to be small and safe and invisible to avoid anything bad ever happening.
And he thinks I’m dramatic?
I sip at my tea, and glare at the usual array of crime scene photos. I’ve grown up with images of shoot outs, stranglings, and bodies washed up on the shore being the backdrop of our family meals.
I think Da does it to scare me into being a shut-in. Yeah, well, that backfired on him because it just made me numb to horrific violence.
A glossy photo on top catches my eye. It’s of a scruffy man with a shamrock tattoo on his neck. He’s been beaten and bloodied and handcuffed to an interrogation table under harsh fluorescent lights. His mouth is bleeding, and his eyes are not only black, but one of them is swollen completely shut. “Who’s that guy?”
My father barely glances at it before brushing it aside. “No one you need to worry about.”
“Did you beat him up?”
He chuckles like my question is a joke, but quickly schools his expression back into something serious. “Me? No.”
“But it was someone on your task force, right? Are you okay with your team torturing people in custody?”
His laughter echoes against the kitchen walls, but it’s cold and hard. There isn’t an ounce of humor behind it. “Don’t be so na?ve, Nora. The assholes I investigate aren’t people—they’re immoral animals driven by power, greed, and ego.”
He stares at me and waits, as if he’s letting that sink in. “The information we get from these thugs saves lives, and violence is the only language they understand. Don’t waste a moment of compassion on them. They are filth. Nothing more.”
I look at the man in the photo and swallow my disappointment. “Criminal or not, he’s someone’s son or husband or brother. Doesn’t that entitle him to humane treatment? You’re the good guys, aren’t you?”
He falls unnaturally still. “Are you honestly asking me that?”
Before we spiral deeper into this mess—a knock echoes from the front door, followed by a chime of our doorbell.
I stand up abruptly, relief washing over me at the distraction. “I’ll get it.”
I leave my father staring after me as I rush out of the room toward the door, eager for anything other than another round of interrogation with Jordan Kelly.
With my anger at Da still simmering in my blood, I open the door to find Kate standing there with red-rimmed eyes. Without a word, she crashes into me, wrapping her arms around me so tightly my breath is cut off. “Nora. My God. How are you?”
I close my eyes, thankful that I’m not crazy and some people care enough to ask. “I’m…upright. I’m still numb. Nothing feels real.”
We break apart and I wipe my eyes, smearing my mascara, I’m sure.
Kate is a beautiful brunette with long, sleek hair, and perfect ivory skin. She and Tanya went to college together and were friends for years before they met me. However much I’ll miss Tanya, Kate will surely miss her so much more.
Standing in the doorway, she fidgets with her purse strap, looking nothing like her usual confident self. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced. I tried to call you, but…”
“Yeah, my phone got smashed in the chaos.”
She draws a deep breath. “I’m heading over to Tanya’s house to see if her mum is sober enough to make arrangements. Odds aren’t good on that front, but thought you might like to come help.”
My heart shudders in my chest and my stomach flips. “I barely know the woman. What if she blames me? What if I make things worse?”
Kate scoffs. “The woman is a selfish piece of work. She’s likely scuttered to the point of oblivion. We’ll stop by and make a few calls to arrange a gathering at the closest pub and make our exit.”
I let out a languished breath. “Fair enough. I can do that.”
“And after…I wasn’t sure about the interviews at Legend. Should we still go? Are we still planning to get a flat together?”
Oh. I completely forgot about the club interviews today. The thought of going there without Tanya feels impossible…until I picture Tanya’s face when she first came up with the idea. She was so excited about the three of us each finding our freedom. It was her fierce determination that convinced us to push through our situations to change our stars.
She will never get that chance now.
But she wouldn’t want that to change the plan.
I straighten up and channel some of Tanya’s boundless strength. “She would kick our asses if we canceled. She’s probably up there right now, planning to haunt us if we don’t go after what we want and follow through.”
Kate laughs, a hint of sparkle returning to her eyes. “She would be pissed if we used her as an excuse.”
“She would.” Before I have time to let doubt overtake me, I grab my black wool jacket from the closet and shrug it on. “I don’t know what kind of impression I’ll make today, but I’m in.”
Kate lifts her chin and draws a deep breath. “Me too. Today will be our tribute to her.”
We step outside and I close the door on my father and his crime photos and his black-and-white world of justice and vengeance. I need to focus on moving forward, and I won’t let Tanya down.
No more living as my father’s quiet little girl tucked away from the world. I squeeze Kate’s hand as we head toward her car. “It’s time to make our girl proud.”