God, the more she thought about this, the better a stiff drink sounded. At least her thoughts had made the blush flee her cheeks and she could now enter Jack’s room without worrying about last night showing on her face. She pushed off the wall and rounded the doorway into Jack’s room.

Seeing her enter, he turned off the miniature television suspended over the bed and tossed the remote onto the table. “Story.” He smiled broadly. “You look well today.”

“Uh, thanks!” Don’t vomit. “So do you. Although I’m told you’re still refusing to eat the hospital food. You know, there’s not always going to be a uniformed officer around to do your dirty work, bringing you corned beef sandwiches on the sly.”

“What? Who told you that?” He looked the picture of innocence.

She dropped into a chair and crossed her legs. “One of the nurses.”

“Which one? The cute one with the glasses?”

Story raised her eyebrows in response.

“I can’t believe she sold me out. I thought we had an understanding.”

“She understands you need to change your diet and get healthy or they won’t clear you to return to work.”

“I don’t need them to clear me.” Grumbling, he pushed himself up on the bed. “Hell, most of the time I’m talking into a headset, anyway. Not a lot of strenuous physical activity involved there.”

“Keywords being ‘most of the time.’ I seem to recall three years ago, you got close enough to a perpetrator that you dropped said headset and wrestled him to the ground. Jog any memories?”

Jack looked at her in silence for a moment. “Sure, I remember. Ex-Army Ranger suffering from PTSD barricaded himself inside a church in Staten Island. The question is, how do you know about it? I doubt it made the news in San Diego.”

Actually, she’d been following Jack’s career most of her life. In addition to writing a best-selling memoir about life as an NYPD hostage negotiator, which she’d read cover to cover, not a month went by that he wasn’t mentioned somewhere in the news. Oftentimes, it felt as though technology was the glue holding her relationship with her father together. No need to fill him in on that minor detail, however. She forced herself to nod. “I might have checked in on you once or twice. You know, we have this fancy new invention called the Internet. Makes it pretty easy.”

Jack snorted a laugh, looking down at his hands. “I might not have been around while you grew up, but I sure managed to pass on the smart-ass gene.” He turned serious then, somber eyes meeting hers across the room. “I’m sorry. About the way things worked out.”

Uncomfortable with his apology, she stood and paced to the window. She hadn’t intended to have this conversation, but now that it seemed unavoidable, she needed to give voice to the question that had always haunted her.

“Why did you stop coming to visit?”

Having been so young when her parents got divorced, she barely recalled the time they’d lived together in one house, as a family. When she’d grown slightly older, she could remember Jack flying to California once a year, usually around her birthday. He would take her to the beach, buy her something, ask about school. She’d looked forward to it with joyful anticipation. Then one year, he’d stopped coming. Lynette explained countless times how busy Jack was in New York and she’d tried to be happy with his phone calls on Christmas, but she always wondered if she’d caused his absence.

Jack blew out a breath. “Well, Story. I honestly don’t have a good enough answer for you. Not that I haven’t had ample time to prepare one.” He lifted a hand and let it fall. “You were so young. Every time I came and left, it confused you further. Once I missed one year, it just never felt right going back.”

“I would have understood eventually.” Story still didn’t face him. “And a few more phone calls or e-mails per year wouldn’t have hurt either.”

“I know that and I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve tried to be involved…in other ways.”

“I guess I should thank you for the money you sent,” she said, feeling kind of numb. “I don’t think I have before.”

“Jesus, you don’t have to thank me. I was happy to do it.” His tone of voice made her turn from the window. “Your mother and I might not have worked out, but I would marry her all over again, deal with all the arguments, to get you. I just want you to know that.”

Her throat tightened. “Thanks, Dad.”

Jack cleared his throat, signaling an end to the conversation, and she felt grateful. Her emotions were on a permanent roller coaster today and it was time to get off.

“So how did you spend your night last night?”

Roller coaster stalled, hanging upside down. “Uh, my friend Hayden and I went out for drinks, did some karaoke at Quincy’s like you recommended. Nothing crazy.”

“Karaoke.” Jack cringed. “What a godawful pastime.”

Story laughed, glad the mood had shifted back to normal. “See, right now in the light of day, I can agree with you. But last night after a few drinks, it represented immortality.”

Jack adjusted the sensor clamped to his finger. “And what was the crowd like?”

“Oh…er,” she stammered. “Women. Tons of women.” I sound like a jackass.

“How unusual for Quincy’s.” He chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you had fun. Maybe someday you can introduce me to Hayden.”

“Sure.” She walked to Jack’s bedside, picked up the pitcher full of water, and poured some into a plastic cup. “But I’m warning you, she’ll want to be fixed up with one of your officers.”

“I’m sure we can manage that. Maybe Daniel Chase? I’m told he’s reasonably attractive.”

Story choked on the sip of water she’d just taken, a decent amount trickling out of her nose.

Jack sat up in concern. “Hey. Are you all right?”

She nodded, holding up a finger as she coughed. “Fine.” Hack, hack. “I’m good.” Jack reclined once more, watching her suspiciously as she crossed the room and sat back in the chair. “So, um, what’s it like working with Daniel? Is he good at working?”

Oh, real smooth, you silver-tongued devil.

“He’s the best. Besides me, of course.” Jack grinned. “I found him in a negotiation class. He already had the aptitude required for the job and I suppose his past is what gives him the drive.”

Story frowned. “His past?”

Her father looked suddenly uncomfortable. “It’s not really my business to tell.”

“Tell me,” she said, unable to help it.

“I trust you’ll be discreet.”

She nodded mutely.

“Daniel was a foster kid. His mother couldn’t take care of him so he became property of the state very young. He moved around a lot between foster homes.” Jack turned to stare out the window. “When he was sixteen, he witnessed the murder of a foster parent by his foster sister. He tried to talk her down and was shot for his efforts.” Jack paused for a wheezing breath. “Not everything is a matter of record, but from what little he told me, she was an abuse victim who suffered a mental break. He did succeed, at least, in getting her to release three other children being held in the room.” He thought for a moment. “Most people find hostage negotiation as a career, but in Daniel’s case, I’d say it found him.”