Emily Kenyon 01 - A Cold Dark Place

and, maybe, David thought, remorse.
    “And somehow, God knows how, you’ve got my little girl involved in this mess—”
    “What’s going on here?”
    It was Dani. The noise of the argument rousted her out of her feather bed. Her blond hair was surprisingly tangle free and she even wore-at least Jenna thought so-a little lip gloss. Her bathrobe was a Vera Wang knockoff, all creamy and flowy. It didn’t conceal much.
    The teenager stood there, her big blue eyes wide.
    “You’re pregnant,” Jenna said. She looked over at her father. “She’s pregnant”
    Dani pulled on the belt tie of her robe and like some kind of floating cloud, took a seat next to David.
    “I was going to tell you,” he said, his eyes riveted on his daughter. Embarrassment swept over his handsome face.
    “When? When my brother or sister was born?”
    “It was something I wanted to tell you-“
    “We wanted to tell you,” Dani interjected, her hand now caressing her melon-sized abdomen.
    “In person,” David continued, finishing his thought.
    “We want you to be here for the wedding, too” Dani’s words were meant for Jenna, but she seemed to say them in the direction of her future husband, now sitting on the couch. “I was hoping you’d be in the bridal party. If you don’t think that’s too weird, you know. It would mean a lot for me”
    Dani was carrying on like she was talking to a wedding planner, not a teen that’d just found out that she was going to be a big sister.
    “You know,” Jenna said, “I thought that I had the worst week ever. Let’s see. A tornado rips up our town, Nick’s fam ily is murdered, I’m sleeping in a shack, my mom is pissed off at me, and now my dad’s girlfriend is knocked up “
    “Enough!” David stood up. His face was red with anger. He was walking a fine line and he knew it. In front of him was his nearly grown daughter and to the left his pregnant girlfriend. He knew he needed to let her vent, but the “knockedup” comment was too much.
    “I’m not saying I’m perfect,” he said stiffly, holding his temper.
    Jenna went to Nick, who was standing his hands in his jeans pockets looking around like he wanted to escape. “No Dad, you’re not,” she said, fighting back tears. “Far from it. Some family we are”
    No one said anything for a few long seconds, when Nick finally broke the ice.
    “Can I use your bathroom?” he asked. “Been a long drive.”
    Dani smiled, though she had fanned the flames of the little altercation, she knew things in her perfect home were not so ideal after all. Regrouping was in order and she pounced on the opportunity
    “Down the hall, Nick. Let’s all get some coffee,” she said, looking at the other two still frozen in their anger.
    Jenna followed her dad and his girlfriend into the kitchen, an enormous room of hanging pots and pans and a gas-fueled fireplace.
    “Does Mom know?” she asked softly, once more feeling the hurt of a secret revealed.
    “Yes,” he said. “I’m afraid she does.”
    Dani feigned a preoccupation with brewing coffee, and Jenna summoned the courage to speak her mind. The words came in a rush. “Dad,” she said, “If you call the police and say anything about Nick, I’ll never speak to you again.”
    He clearly didn’t like her attitude. “Don’t push me,” he said.
    “You know, I cried for a week when you moved to Seattle. Make that a month. And all along you probably had her. Like she was waiting in the wings. I thought that your leaving us was something that you needed to do to practice your specialty. Spokane wasn’t big enough”
    David remained mute. He figured at the very least in some small way, he had it coming.
    “And you know what, Dad? Seattle had everything you wanted,” she said, again thinking of Dani. “But it didn’t have me. It didn’t have Mom”
    “It is more complicated than that. You’ll see when you live your own life.”
    “Complicated? What I’m going through right now is complicated. I need you to be there for me. I need you to help me. Nick and I need your help.”
    Saturday, 11:15 A.m., north of Seattle
    Traffic was uncharacteristically light as Emily Kenyon drove northward from Seattle. Her back ached from the long drive from Cherrystone, and her car smelled of a cinnamon scone she’d picked up from a Starbucks drive-through. She told herself to ignore the exit off the freeway that led to the home she and David had shared when they were first married. It was a