“Yes, Officer. What happened?”
They exchanged a look. Then the officer said: “Sir, we’re here to talk about your daughter. Do you have any idea what she has done?”
“Are you Brad? Ainsley’s father?”
My heart was knocking so hard against my ribs I could feel it in my throat.
“My… my daughter? I… I don’t understand…”
“Sir, please relax,” the officer added, reading my face, “she’s not in any trouble. I want to be clear about that upfront. But we felt you needed to know something.”
But that didn’t make my heart slow down.
I let them in.
“But we felt you needed to know something.”
They explained it calmly and in order. For several months, Ainsley had been showing up at a construction site across town, a mixed-use development project running late shifts.
She wasn’t on the payroll. She’d just started appearing: sweeping up, running small tasks for the crew, doing whatever needed doing and staying out of the way when it didn’t.
