Prologue
Ally
New York City
The diner staff bustled urgently around. Utensils clinked and scraped against plates. A dull hum of conversation from the restaurant patrons filled the air. None of these noises were enough to drown out the sounds of Patsy Cline crooning through the speakers. The smell of fried bacon, fresh coffee, and pancakes hot off the griddle had my stomach growling. While gently shoving my way through the gathering crowd of diners waiting for their table at the entrance, I lifted to my toes, searching over their heads for my father. We’d eaten at the same diner near the corner of 57th Street every Saturday morning since I was a child. The tradition continued even now that I was in college and living on campus at NYU.
I could’ve lived at home while studying for my bachelor’s. In fact, the old man had all but demanded I remain under his roof as long as I was still in school. He was stubborn and hard-headed. Much to his dismay, I’d inherited the trait from him. I wanted independence, and so we’d compromised. He agreed to allow me to spread my wings if I agreed to keep my grades up, focus on school not boys, and meet him for our ritual Saturday morning breakfast every week.
It didn’t take long for me to spot him in his NYPD uniform sitting in our usual booth next to the window, a cup of coffee already in hand as he browsed the headlines of the newspaper in front of him. He lifted his eyes and gave me a slight smile as I approached.
“Hey, Pops.” I bent, kissing him on the cheek before sliding onto the bench across from him. The red vinyl seat creaked under my weight.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he replied and set the newspaper aside on the seat next to him as I dug through my bag. I pulled out an unmarked envelope and slid it across the smooth surface of the table between us. His eyes fell onto it and then lifted back to mine. “What’s this?” He hesitantly reached for it.
I grinned, unable to help myself. “Open it and find out.” I nodded toward the envelope that held the results to my Police Officer’s Entrance Exam.
With a slow hand, he opened it and unfolded the paper. My legs bounced anxiously, nearly vibrating me off my seat as he silently read over it.
“I passed!” I said, wondering if he somehow missed the score when he hadn’t reacted. I hadn’t merely passed, I’d aced it.
“I see that,” he said, his brows furrowed with disappointment as he refolded the paper and tucked it gently back inside the envelope.
My smile fell. “I thought you’d be more excited.”
He set the test results aside and picked up his coffee, allowing a heavy silence to hang between us as he took a sip. Placing his cup back on the table, he finally responded, “I thought we agreed you’d get your bachelor’s degree first. Finish at least a full year of school before deciding on a major or a career.”
“I am. That hasn’t changed, mostly. I plan to get my degree. But I already know I want to do something honorable with my life. Like you do. I want to help, to be a cop, and then someday apply for the FBI.”
He shook his head lightly. “You have your entire life ahead of you. What if you change your mind? You’re only nineteen, you could find something else you love while finishing college.”
With my arms tightly crossed over my chest, I sat back. I had zero interest in any other career. “I know what I want. And this is it. If I haven’t changed my mind since I was a young girl, I won’t change it now.”
“You’re still a young girl.”
“Woman,” I corrected him. “I’m a young woman now.”
“You’ll always be my little girl,” he retorted with a huff.
I rolled my eyes, a smile working its way onto my face despite my frustration. There was no arguing that with the man. “The point is,” I exaggerated, “This is the career I want. I took the entrance exam now, so as soon as I graduate, I can apply and quickly get two years on the force under my belt before applying for the FBI.”
The tips of his fingers tapped lightly on the table next to his steaming cup of black coffee. A habit whenever his mind was spinning or something was bothering him.
Leaning forward, I reached for his hand, placing mine over his and stilling it. “What’s this really about?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then flipped his hand so it held mine. He stared down at the way his large one swallowed mine whole, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Nothing, sweetheart… I just keep thinking about your mother. She would’ve wanted something different for you. She hated that I was on the force.”
“Mom would’ve wanted whatever made me happy. The same way she did you, which is why she married you despite your job. She loved you.”
“How do you know all that?”
“You told me once. When I was eight.”
“And you remember that?”
I nodded. There wasn’t a thing I didn’t remember him telling me about my mom. My own memories were mostly non existent since she died of cancer before my fifth birthday. It’s why I soaked in every bit of what he shared with me about her.
“A steel trap, that mind of yours.” He tapped my temple lightly and then released my hand. “Just like your mother.”
I grinned and sat back as our server approached.
“Morning, Ally,” Linda said, stopping at our table to top off my dad’s coffee. She glanced his way before focusing her attention on me. She worked every Saturday for the last twelve years, always in the same section. And because we always sat in the same booth, she knew us by name and our order by heart.
“Morning, Linda,” I replied, stuffing the envelope back inside my bag to make room for the meal to come.
“Give me just a few, and I’ll get you your tea. I already put in your orders, and it should be out shortly.
“No rush,” I said.
Linda smiled, brushing away light blonde wisps from her face. Not for the first time, I noticed how pretty she was and how perfect she’d be for my father. She was kind, attentive, and beautiful inside and out. They always seemed to make easy conversation anytime we were here. I’d even caught them being a little flirty during their exchanges.
“You need anything else in the meantime, Officer Rhodes?” Linda asked my father.
“I think we’re good. Thank you,” he replied with a charming smile. Her cheeks turned a faint pink before she turned and walked away.
The rest of our meal turned to less heavy conversation. We talked about my classes and what we each had been up to that week. Near the end, my father seemed more of himself, but I sensed there was still something bothering him he wasn’t sharing with me. This happened often with his line of work. He couldn’t always divulge the details of things he saw and dealt with daily on the job.
I still had a whole pancake left when he checked the time. “Don’t let me hold you up.” I signaled at the Swiss made watch on his wrist. It’d been a Father’s Day present I gave him a few years ago. I’d saved every cent I made from dog walking just to buy it for him. “If you need to get to work, I understand.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, pulling a few bills from his wallet. “Duty calls.” He placed enough money on the table to cover both our meals and a generous tip for Linda.
“You know, I bet she’d like you to leave her something other than just a wad of cash every time.”
“Ally,” my father warned.
“What? She’s been dying for you to give her your number or better yet, ask her on a date.”
He shook his head, shifting to one side to return his wallet into his back pocket. He was a lost cause when it came to ever marrying again. There would never be another woman he loved as much as my mother. It didn’t mean he had to spend the rest of his life alone, though, did it?
“What makes you think she wants a date with me?”
“I’m a woman. I know.”
“Quit reminding me,” he muttered under his breath and stood. He kissed my cheek and gave me a one-armed hug. “Love you, kiddo.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
“Same place and time next week?” he asked, as he picked up his paper from the bench.
“Of course. And don’t forget, dinner on Wednesday. I’m cooking.”
“I won’t forget. Maybe we can even take a trip to the cabin soon. What do you say?”
“Sounds perfect.”
He gave me a final squeeze to my shoulder as he headed for the door. Had I not been watching him as he went, I might’ve missed the parting wink he gave Linda on his way out.
* * *
“Dad!” I hollered as I balanced the bag of groceries in one arm and pushed open his front door with the other. The door had been locked, causing me to nearly drop the food on the porch as I tried to dig out my key. The house was unusually silent. I walked across the outdated shag carpet that blanketed the living room of my childhood home. Stopping in the kitchen, I set the groceries on the counter. After shedding my jacket and putting away the cold items in the refrigerator, I spun in search of my dad. The house was empty and dark. The only light illuminating the place was the lamp in the living room corner that he always left on.
There was a good chance he was in the garage working on his truck. It hadn’t been in the driveway when I arrived. On colder evenings like this, he often pulled it inside and shut the overhead door as he tinkered with different parts on it.
A gust of wind forced the back screen door out of my hands, slamming it against the wall of the house as I stepped outside. After hurriedly closing it and ensuring it was latched, I trekked across the backyard, crossing my arms to shield myself from the cold. I stopped just outside the detached garage with its peeling white paint and peered through the dirty glass in the side door. The garage was as lifeless as the house. Confused, I turned back and jogged toward the house, wanting to be out of the cold as quick as possible.
I looked around the kitchen for a note or something to tell me where he might be, finding nothing. Had I gotten the day wrong? I tried to think back to our conversation. Tonight was the night I was cooking him dinner. I was sure of it.
There was an unexpected knock, interrupting my thoughts. The thundering pounds on the door made me jump.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. I felt it all the way to my core. The thumping in my chest increased to an alarming rate, and my palms heated as I took steady steps toward the front door. With a trembling hand, I reached for the curtain, pushing it slightly to the side to peer out the window. My knees weakened the moment I opened the door to the man in uniform.
