Page 56 of No Offense

He frowned. This was not going at all the way he’d assumed it would go. Although he should have known: his outgoing dancer daughter would love the attention—any attention.

“TheGazette,” he said, and was bemused to see her shoulders slump in disappointment.

“TheGazette? That only has like five thousand subscribers. And there’s a paywall. Hardly anyone is going to see it. And I’m really trying to build my brand—so is Elijah, by the way. Do you think you could get it onto the front page of theMiami Herald? Or on CNN? A lot more people will see it there. And make sure you use Elijah’s name as the photographer, Elijah Trujos. We all promised we would give him full credit if we used the photos for anything promotional.”

John stared at his daughter. Was it possible that Molly Montgomery knew his daughter better than he did? She’d said that Katie wouldn’t mind the attention, and she’d been right.

“Katie, your face is not going to be on the front page of any paper tomorrow because if I decide to turn the photo over to the media, I’m going to make sure your face is blurred out—”

“Daddy, no!”

“—for your own protection.”

“But, Daddy—”

“—and I certainly won’t allow them to use either youror Elijah’s names, because you are both minors, and I don’t want you to be forever associated with this case or that man.”

“But, Daddy, I look really good in that photo. I’m in my Snappettes uniform and everything. Think of all the donations it could bring to the team!”

John shook his head. “That is exactly what I’m worried about. Do you have any idea how many sexual predators there are who would love to see a photo like that and track down the girl in it?”

“Ugh, Daddy.” Katie pouted. “I don’t understand how you can be such a boomer when you were actually born in the eighties.”

He pointed at her. “For that, you get no dessert, young lady.”

She stuck her tongue out at him but playfully. He could tell she wasn’t really mad, just like she could tell he wasn’t really mad, either. They’d been a team too long to allow petty disagreements to get in the way of their affection for each other.

Unlike his relationship with Molly Montgomery, which was too new for him to let the sun set on a squabble. He had to make things right with her. But how?

“What can I get you two for dessert?” Angela, who always worked the Sunday night spaghetti and meatball shift, came up to their booth to ask.

Katie was still mock pouting. “My dad says I’m not allowed to have dessert.”

“Come on now, Sheriff.” Angela jerked her pen toward the counter. “Ed made a couple of his world-famous keylime pies this afternoon. You know there’s nothing better than a slice of pie to fix what ails you.”

John glanced at the counter and saw the pies sitting pristine and covered in peaks of lightly toasted meringue behind the glass display case. Was it really true that a piece of pie could repair all of one’s troubles? Not in his experience.

But it could certainly make one feel better in the moment.

“I’ll have one,” John said, and began to dig around in his pocket for his wallet. The Mermaid Café was a cash-only enterprise.

“Da-aa-aad.” Katie’s expression was stern with disapproval. “You can’t have a slice of pie. Your cholesterol. Remember?”

“I don’t want a slice,” John said. “I’ll take the whole thing.”

When Katie’s eyebrows rose in shock, he explained, “It’s for a friend, not me. I owe her an apology, and what better way to say I’m sorry than with one of Ed’s pies?”

Now Katie began to look slyly knowing. “Her?Her, Dad? Is it a certain librarian you dragged me to meet the other day? Is it?Is it?”

“That is none of your business,” John said, throwing bills onto the table as Angela went to box up his pie. “Can you find a ride home with someone here? I have to get over to theGazetteoffices before they put tomorrow’s paper to bed.”

“Yes,” Katie said, and nodded at a table a few booths away. “Nevaeh’s over there with Marquis and those guys. They’ll drop me off. Why are you so worried about me walking home alone, Dad? Because of mystalker?”

“Cut it out. You know I don’t like you walking by yourself after dark. Be sure to put the alarm on when you get home. I might be late.”

“Because after you visit theGazetteyou’ll be delivering your pie tothe librarian?”

John shot his daughter a warning look even as he gratefully accepted the pie, wrapped in an insulated pack to keep it cool, from Angela. “Thanks,” he said to the waitress. To his daughter, he said, “I love you.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Be good. And safe.”