Page 26 of Shadows Relived
“Your turn,” he deadpanned.
She cracked a smile. “I’m surprised you let me sleep.” She laughed as she patted his shoulder. “I’ll take the morning chaos shift and give you a break. I’m sure youdeserve it.”
“Godspeed.”
While she ushered the kids to the table and tried to salvage what could pass for pancakes after whatever Callen had done to them, her thoughts kept circling. Her father’s face. His voice. The confident way he made everything sound fine, even as he eroded trust one deflection at a time.
She moved through the motions on autopilot, mixing pancake batter, prepping the griddle, stacking plates with military efficiency. The scent of cinnamon filled the room as she cooked. She added it without thinking. Callen always liked cinnamon in his pancakes, if she recalled right. He used to joke that it made them taste like a memory, but he would never tell her what memory.
A faint smile crossed her face but didn’t last long before her expression collapsed again. Because for all the sweetness of this temporary safety—of Callen, of firelight, of pancakes and coloring pages—there was still a truth she hadn’t faced.
Her father had gotten her into this, and she needed answers if she was ever to get out of it.
She then glanced over at Callen as he slid into a chair at the table, coffee cup in his hand. Taking a deep breath, she placed a flour-covered hand on her hip and braced for his refusal. “I need to call him.”
He didn’t answer right away. Didn’t even question to whom she referred. Just took a slow sip of his coffee, doing his best to ignore the hyper kids behind him.
As he lowered his cup, he turned his dark eyes toward her. “Are you sure? You already know what he did.”
“No,” she admitted. “I’m far from sure about anything.But I have to do it, anyway.” She expected an argument and braced for it.
Callen’s jaw ticked, the muscle jumping once. He slid back out of the chair and walked to a large black duffel he had pulled out of his SUV and pulled out the satellite phone from a side pocket. He didn’t offer it right away. Just held it for a second, studying her.
“He’s going to lie to you about everything,” he said finally. “You know that, right?”
“I know,” she whispered.
Callen placed the phone in her hand, brushing her fingers with his. “Don’t let him rattle you. You don’t owe him more than five minutes of your time. Get the answers you need and hang up.”
Her fingers wrapped around the phone. Cold. Heavy.
“I’ll finish breakfast,” he told her.
With a curt nod, she slipped outside, stepping out onto the porch for privacy, clutching the phone like it might bite. The porch boards groaned beneath her bare feet as she stepped into the morning sun. The air was crisp, dew clinging to the tall grass just beyond the clearing, her breath visible in the early light. She stared at the keypad, thumb hovering for a long, silent moment.
Then she dialed.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then his voice, polished, clipped, half a world away it seemed filled her ear. “This is Senator Roger Harrington.”
She took a deep breath. “It’s your daughter.”
“Meaghan. Finally. I’ve been worried sicksince the school shooting hit the news. What took you so long to call?”
She didn’t answer, her temper boiling just below the surface.
He sighed. “I assume you’re safe and with Callen, since I haven’t heard from him either.”
“You assume?”
“Of course I did,” he told her as if it was just another day. “You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, making everyone worry about whatever you’ll do next. Not sure why I thought this would be any different. Disappearing with children, not calling, letting everyone panic?—”
She clenched the phone tighter. “Are you seriously making this about you?”
There was a pause, and she could hear him shuffling in his chair, the leather creaking, almost worn, but he would never get rid of it.
