Page 108 of Intrepid

“I … I … I’m Sera Kutscher. I live here.”

“Karl Kutcher’s daughter?”

“Yes. I just …. I stopped in to grab something from my bedroom.”

“Can I see some ID, ma’am? I’m sorry, but Mister Kutscher never mentioned his daughter.”

“Yeah, sure.” Asshole. I tugged my wallet from my back pocket and handed him my license and student ID.

“Okay. We’ve been assigned to watch the house, since there’s been some suspicious activity going on.”

“What … kind of suspicious activity?”

“Some threats your father has been receiving.”

I wanted to tell him those threats weren’t groundless, and maybe he should’ve been more concerned with what my father had gone off to New York to do. Instead, I smiled and accepted my cards, as he handed them back to me.

“You haven’t been receiving any messages, or suspicious letters at school?”

“No, sir. Unless you consider the noise violation notices my roommate sometimes gets from the apartment manager, for listening to the Ramones a few decibels above normal?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. I’ll let you get back on your way. Have a good night.”

“Thanks. Same to you.” As he walked back toward his cruiser, parked behind my car, I blew out a held breath, and the moment he exited the property, I got the hell out of there.

For some reason, having something so seemingly valuable in my hands had me paranoid and shaking, checking my mirrors the entire drive back to my apartment. No one, except the cop, had any idea I’d gone back to the house, let alone snagged the ledger, yet the hairs stood on the back of my neck.

I grabbed my cell and dialed Bea’s number, who miraculously picked up on the second ring, instead of letting it go to voicemail, as usual.

“What’s up?”

“Is Simone with you?” I asked, eyes glued to the road to keep from veering off.

“Define with. She’s between my thighs at the moment, so I guess, she might even qualify as in.”

“Nice. Look, can I ask her a quick question?”

“I dunno. She’s kinda hittin’ the spot at the moment. Not really—”

“Give me the damn phone!” Simone’s irritated voice mirrored the frustration beating through me. “She’s just playin’, Sera. What’s up?”

“I need to get hold of Dax. It’s important. Can you text me his number?”

“I didn’t know you and Dax were cool like that.”

“We’re not. Ty asked me to get in touch with him.”

“Ah, okay. Sure thing. I’ll text it over to you.”

“Thanks.”

“You sound rattled. Everything okay?”

Besides the fact that my father was a murdering pedophile who’d abandoned a son that’d blown his brains out in front of me? Peachy.

“Everything’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

I clicked out of the call, and no more than five seconds later, a number popped up on my screen. I pressed to dial and waited, my hands sweaty and cold.