Page 142 of Crash Course
She considered that. Layla, of course, knew her schedule better than most, but her assistant had no reason to do something like this. She wouldn’t. Ever. Cilla believed that.
Her mother also knew her schedule. And her doorman. Aside from those few people, there weren’t many others. Maybe a few friends.
None of whom would do this to her.
"Outside of my doorman," Cilla said, "my parents and my assistant. Only a few people."
"How about Paul?" Cruz faced Randolph. "Does he know her schedule?"
Cilla squeezed Cruz’s hand again. As much as she didn’t want to agree with her father at this moment, he was right. Cruz shouldn’t be spouting off about suspects. "Hey," she said softly. "We’re okay. I don’t want us jumping to conclusions. Law enforcement will investigate and hopefully find whoever is responsible."
"I know. But we can narrow the suspects."
"It’s not a secret I’m regimented. But my father’s employees probably don’t know what time I leave my house."
"Maybe a disgruntled client," Dad offered. "You’ve had threats before."
The bullet left on her car and now this, when she had a pending murder trial? It could all be connected.
Maybe.
"We need to see the garage's video footage," Dad said.
Cruz peered down at Cilla. "I’m already on it. I asked Rohan to look."
Ah, Rohan. Fantastic idea. "Has he found anything?"
"As of twenty minutes ago, still working on it. He’s close, though. We may know before the cops who did it."
"That’s good," Dad said. "I’ll bury whoever did this. I promise you that."
Cilla let out a soft snort. She couldn’t help it. "Last night you weren’t feeling so protective. In fact, you told me you’d never forgive me."
"Sweetheart, I was upset. You know me. I don’t mean half the things I say."
"You said hurtful, no, devastating, things I will never get over. Ever. This whole situation is stressful and, frankly, I don’t need you adding to it. I’m waiting for the doctor to come in and stitch me up and I’d prefer you not be here. I’d like you to leave."
At this, Dad drew his eyebrows together, confusion seeming to take over his face. "You’re throwing me out?"
King Kong kicked behind her left eye, so Cilla put her head back and closed her eyes. "That’s awfully dramatic, Dad."
"She’s throwing you out," Cruz said. "Leave."
"Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me that way?"
"I know exactly who I am. Your daughter has asked you to leave. Unless you have more to tell her about what happened this morning."
Now she’d had it. What she didn’t need was these two screaming while her head came apart. She opened her eyes, but didn't bother lifting her head "Please," she said. "Just . . . stop. Dad, I need you to go."
Cruz shook his head. "Sorry, babe. I saw what happened last night. He said you betrayed him. And, this morning, your car blew up at a time he knows you’re usually nowhere near it." He faced Dad again. "You yourself brought that up."
For a few seconds, Cilla was still, her body somehow completely numb. If only her head could be the same. Despite the pain, her thoughts whizzed.
Cruz had a point. But Dad? No. Couldn’t be.
Could it?
Her father had always been big on revenge. On testing people and dealing out punishment when the results proved unfavorable.
