Beneath These Lies (Beneath, #5)(26)

“Sorry,” I said, just in time for Chaney to come running back with her ball. “It has been a crazy few days.”

“That’s why you need to make time for things other than work,” my mother said.

I knew she wanted to say Go on a date, have fun, but given the circumstances, she never would, and I couldn’t miss the flash of pain on her face when she held back the words. I hated that they both still saw me as their daughter who’d been raped. I wasn’t a victim anymore, but the sympathetic looks hadn’t changed in ten years. How would I ever get them to see me as I was today rather than their baby girl who’d been violated?

Her pained look tightened the corners of her mouth, and there wasn’t much I wouldn’t say to erase it. And that was why I opened my big fat mouth.

“I am making time for things other than work. I sorta went on a date last night. And I have another tomorrow.”

Both my parents stilled and looked at me. “A date? Really?”

It was proof of how little I told them about that aspect of my life and how little I dated. There had been guys here and there I’d seen casually, but no one I would have ever mentioned to my parents. For them, this news was almost groundbreaking. And maybe it would finally help me shed the victim image in their eyes.

“Who’s the lucky man?” The question came from my father.

Well, crap. Of course they’d want details.

“He’s a cop. NOPD.”

This grabbed my father’s attention even more. He knew lots of cops. “Does he have a name?”

“Rhett Hennessy. Detective Rhett Hennessy.”

Both my parents, but especially my father, had been very involved in my case, and I knew he’d recognize the name. I didn’t know what kind of reaction I’d get, however.

“Good man. I’ve always liked him. He’s young, but that works in his favor. He’s got drive. Great cop. Not a bad choice.”

My mother glanced at my father before faux whispering, “And he’s handsome in that rough, primal sort of way. Good choice, for sure.”

My father raised an eyebrow at my mother. “I’ll show you handsome in a rough, primal sort of way.” He growled and stepped toward her.

“Do you want me to grab my steak off the grill and take it to go? I can leave you two . . . alone.”

My parents both laughed, and my father stepped back. “No, we’ll save this for later.”

“Okay. Ewww. Just ewww. I don’t want to hear it.”

My mother leaned in and hugged me again, and Chaney wiggled between us. “It’s good to see you smile. Now, let’s go throw together a salad and eat.”




Dinner was filled with my father telling stories about some of the crazy happenings at the courthouse. The family that attempted to stage a protest on the steps before they realized their son had agreed to a plea bargain. The defendant who had head-butted the bailiff and tried to make a run for it, but tripped over his own feet and sprained an ankle before he could get out of the courtroom. I swear, it was stuff that I would have never believed if I hadn’t been raised around a dinner table hearing stories like that.

My mother added anecdotes from her docent position at the New Orleans Museum of Art. Her influence and spending so much time at the museum as a kid had begun my love of art and ultimately determined my career choice. I hadn’t wanted art to sit in a museum, though, so people could only see it when they visited. I wanted more accessible art—the kind you could take home and enjoy every day.

By the time I’d filled my belly with steak, veggies, and homemade raspberry pie, I’d also drunk several glasses of wine.

“It’s a good thing I’m walking home,” I said as I stood to clear the table. “I wouldn’t want to end up in front of one of daddy’s colleagues.”

My dad laughed. “You’re too smart to ever do anything that stupid.”

My insides squirmed a little when I thought about Rix, and the night Trinity was taken. My father would tell me I was being incredibly stupid. And I probably was. But as much as I wanted to spill all of the details and beg my dad for help, I couldn’t risk her safety. He’d tell me to leave the matter to the police, which was exactly what Rix had told me not to do.

Since when was I listening to Rix over my father? It was a sobering realization.

When I headed for the door, after giving hugs to both of them, my father stopped me.

“You better not be leaving without letting your old man walk you home.”

I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “It’s only a few blocks.”

“And you’re still my baby girl.” Turning, he called to my mother, “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, Jo.”

“I’ll be waiting!” she yelled back.

Chaney came bounding up as if on cue, with a look in her doggy eyes that said You’re not trying to leave without me, are you? Why would you do such a thing?

My father, used to that look, grabbed a leash off the hook by the door and clipped it to her collar. “I’m taking the dog too.”

“Okay, honey.”

The exchange was so routine and so domestic, but it knocked something loose in me. I wanted that. The routine. Walking the dog. Cooking dinner. Being part of a couple instead of always being solo.

Is Rhett the guy to give me that?