Mystery: The Card Counter: (Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Suspense Thriller Mystery)

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Authors: James Kipling
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like my job. Sometimes it means going back when called in. I’m not going to apologize for being good at my job.”
    “You could apologize for being a bad father.”
    “A good father would want this sick piece of shit behind bars or in a morgue!” I yelled back at her. “I want kids to stop dying and if that makes me an asshole in your books, I don’t fucking care!”
    “Don’t talk to me like that,” Beth angrily replied.
    “This is my fucking house!” I yelled back as I pulled a pair of cuffs out of my pocket and waved them in her face. “Just being here is a violation of our court agreement. I suggest you leave right now.”
    “Or what?” Beth said back, daring me to do something about it.
    “Or I’ll call in and have a few uniforms haul you down to the station for trespassing and disturbing the peace.”
    Beth looked like she wanted to scream back at me, but thought better of it. “You’ll hear from my lawyer.”
    “I wouldn’t expect anything less, you fucking whore!” I called back as I watched her walk across my grass to her car. I walked into the house as she was pulling away, but my heart sank as I turned on the light. All three of my girls were sitting on my couch in the living room. They had come home early and had heard everything we’d said outside.
    Sandy was crying in Cassie’s arms, and just the sight of that broke my heart as I began to recall all the terrible things I’d said to their mother just outside the door, only minutes ago.
    After a pause that lasted at least a minute or two, Cassie finally spoke up. “We grabbed a few pizzas, wings, and a video, hoping you’d come back early.”
    I sighed and sat down on the coffee table. “That was very sweet. You shouldn’t have done this for me. I don’t deserve it.”
    “Yeah, well.”
    I wanted to say something, but there was nothing I could say. What I had done was inexcusable, and somehow a horrible day managed to get much, much worse. One by one, all three girls went upstairs to their room. I wanted to call them back down to talk, but now didn’t seem like such a good idea while they were still upset. At least they’d stayed downstairs long enough to eat with me.
    I’d been divorced for close to half a decade now, and despite how angry I was about the separation and the affair that led to it, I’d worked hard never to bad-mouth my ex when the girls were present. I did it out of respect for them more than out of respect for their mother, who I didn’t like very much. There was a time when she’d actually had the nerve to ask if we could be friends. I said no because I couldn’t be friends with someone who claimed to love me and then stabbed me in the fucking back the way she had. And, at the time, I was still fucking in love with her, so what else was I supposed to do?
    Nice people didn’t do that to their friends, and she was the last person I would ever consider my friend. I tried to be nice to her when the kids were around, but in this case, it had never occurred to me that they might be in the house, hiding away to keep me out of trouble, but when I came home alone, trouble was what she gave me. They’d hidden from their own mother so she would assume we had all gone out together, and I repaid that loyalty by bad-mouthing their mom in front of them.
    I sat down on the couch and looked down at the left-over pizza and DVDs that were on the other side of the coffee table. There were two pizzas; the first one was a deluxe with green peppers, pepperoni, and mushrooms. The other was my favourite: sausage, feta cheese, and anchovies. They’d picked up some girly movies, but with the gruesome shit I have to tolerate at work, I never had any issue with the girly movies.
    I was sincerely touched by their efforts to include me in their plans, despite the fact that I’d hardly been there all weekend. I took out another piece of pizza and ate it while thinking about what an ass I’d been when I spoke to their mother earlier.

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