take me?” I ask my dad hesitantly.
His eyes sharply flit to mine, then back to the computer, and finally rest on me again. He sighs. “I’m not taking any chances.”
“But they could have taken me last night if they wanted, right? Maybe it’s a mistake and those notes weren’t serious or something.”
My father’s dark eyebrows pull together. “That sounds like a stretch, Lil.”
He types something on the computer and then looks back at me expectantly. Conversation over. I turn from my father’s office but am surprised when I hear his voice calling me back. “Lily.” He’s even taken his hands entirely off the keyboard this time.
I move back toward him until I’m standing in the center of the room.
“They can’t have you,” he says and stares at me hard.
Looking in my father’s eyes has always been a bit like looking in a mirror. We have eyes that can’t seem to settle on a color. Officially it’s hazel, but there are blues and grays with the greens, golds, and browns, too. The colors can’t seem to make up their minds, unlike my father, who is resolute.
“They can’t take you.” He says each word in a cold, clipped voice.
I don’t know what to say, how to comfort him when I’m just as afraid. “I’ll always be your daughter,” I say.
He nods once, then is back to business on his keyboard. The moment has passed.
I walk back down the hall, but instead of going back to my room I head down the stairs and out the side door. I tromp onto the grass and make my way down to the guesthouse below the main quarters.
I knock on the back door. “Jeremy?” I continue knocking. “Jeremy, it’s Lily.”
After a few more knocks, the door opens.
He’s wearing jeans and a simple white T-shirt, not his usual crisp white button-down shirt and dark-suit uniform. “What do you know?” I ask him.
“I’ve been at home all morning, Lily. I don’t know anything.”
“I don’t believe you.” I step around him and walk inside.
Jeremy adjusts his shoulders so he’s standing squarely. I’ve bothered him, I know, but I’m too curious about the investigation to care. I need information.
“Maybe you’re working from home,” I say pointedly. “I just talked to my father and he’s going over your notes.”
The familiarity of his house always strikes me. My mother gave him all of our old furniture and decorations from the house in Arizona. It’s a southwestern style, with rustic leather couches and pictures of cacti and sunsets on the wall.
“I don’t know what to tell you.” He turns. “Want some tea?” His words are curt, as rigid as his stance.
“You’re going to tell me the head of my father’s security really has no idea what’s going on with the investigation into last night’s attack?”
I head into the living room. Jeremy has his laptop lying out on the coffee table and papers arranged all around in neat little stacks. It’s just the organized mess I was hoping to find. I pick up one of the papers. It’s a police report from last night.
I hold up the report and raise my eyebrow. “Off duty, huh?”
“Lily,” he says, grabbing the paper, “you know that’s classified information.”
“Come on Jeremy.” I clench my fists at my side. “Last night affected me probably more than anyone. There’s a very good chance I was the reason they were there in the first place.”
“We don’t have evidence to know that for sure.”
“I’ve got plenty. Want to see the collection of little black notes I’ve received? Why are they sending them if they aren’t planning on following through? Is it just a game? Do you even know what they want?”
Jeremy sighs, clearly without the answers I so desperately seek. “We have nothing. They’re ghosts.” He picks up some of the papers, scans them, and then throws them down. “Nothing.”
I plop down on his couch.
He remains standing stiffly by the door.
“There has to be something we’re missing.” I have long since
His eyes sharply flit to mine, then back to the computer, and finally rest on me again. He sighs. “I’m not taking any chances.”
“But they could have taken me last night if they wanted, right? Maybe it’s a mistake and those notes weren’t serious or something.”
My father’s dark eyebrows pull together. “That sounds like a stretch, Lil.”
He types something on the computer and then looks back at me expectantly. Conversation over. I turn from my father’s office but am surprised when I hear his voice calling me back. “Lily.” He’s even taken his hands entirely off the keyboard this time.
I move back toward him until I’m standing in the center of the room.
“They can’t have you,” he says and stares at me hard.
Looking in my father’s eyes has always been a bit like looking in a mirror. We have eyes that can’t seem to settle on a color. Officially it’s hazel, but there are blues and grays with the greens, golds, and browns, too. The colors can’t seem to make up their minds, unlike my father, who is resolute.
“They can’t take you.” He says each word in a cold, clipped voice.
I don’t know what to say, how to comfort him when I’m just as afraid. “I’ll always be your daughter,” I say.
He nods once, then is back to business on his keyboard. The moment has passed.
I walk back down the hall, but instead of going back to my room I head down the stairs and out the side door. I tromp onto the grass and make my way down to the guesthouse below the main quarters.
I knock on the back door. “Jeremy?” I continue knocking. “Jeremy, it’s Lily.”
After a few more knocks, the door opens.
He’s wearing jeans and a simple white T-shirt, not his usual crisp white button-down shirt and dark-suit uniform. “What do you know?” I ask him.
“I’ve been at home all morning, Lily. I don’t know anything.”
“I don’t believe you.” I step around him and walk inside.
Jeremy adjusts his shoulders so he’s standing squarely. I’ve bothered him, I know, but I’m too curious about the investigation to care. I need information.
“Maybe you’re working from home,” I say pointedly. “I just talked to my father and he’s going over your notes.”
The familiarity of his house always strikes me. My mother gave him all of our old furniture and decorations from the house in Arizona. It’s a southwestern style, with rustic leather couches and pictures of cacti and sunsets on the wall.
“I don’t know what to tell you.” He turns. “Want some tea?” His words are curt, as rigid as his stance.
“You’re going to tell me the head of my father’s security really has no idea what’s going on with the investigation into last night’s attack?”
I head into the living room. Jeremy has his laptop lying out on the coffee table and papers arranged all around in neat little stacks. It’s just the organized mess I was hoping to find. I pick up one of the papers. It’s a police report from last night.
I hold up the report and raise my eyebrow. “Off duty, huh?”
“Lily,” he says, grabbing the paper, “you know that’s classified information.”
“Come on Jeremy.” I clench my fists at my side. “Last night affected me probably more than anyone. There’s a very good chance I was the reason they were there in the first place.”
“We don’t have evidence to know that for sure.”
“I’ve got plenty. Want to see the collection of little black notes I’ve received? Why are they sending them if they aren’t planning on following through? Is it just a game? Do you even know what they want?”
Jeremy sighs, clearly without the answers I so desperately seek. “We have nothing. They’re ghosts.” He picks up some of the papers, scans them, and then throws them down. “Nothing.”
I plop down on his couch.
He remains standing stiffly by the door.
“There has to be something we’re missing.” I have long since
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