Garrett stepped back.
“Say one more word,” my father said, “and I will forget my daughter asked me not to make a scene.”
Garrett’s breathing grew uneven.
Then, suddenly, his eyes filled with panic.
Not because of us.
Because his phone was ringing.
It vibrated loudly inside his coat pocket.
He didn’t move.
My father smiled faintly.
“Answer it.”
Garrett shook his head.
“Answer it,” I said.
He pulled out the phone.
Melissa.
Her name glowed on the screen like a second crime.
Garrett declined the call.
A voicemail appeared almost immediately.
Then a text.
Melissa:
Garrett, why is someone from Sterling security asking hotel staff about us? You said your wife didn’t know. You said the kid situation was handled.
I read the words over his shoulder.
Kid situation.
Handled.
The floor tilted beneath me.
“What does that mean?” I whispered.
