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argumentative tone in his voice so she sidestepped him and
    headed for the hallway. “I’m just going to put on my shoes.” Without waiting to see if
    he followed, she strode from the room.
    Seconds later his heavy shoes sounded along the wood floor. While zipping her
    boot up, she glanced up at his approaching figure.
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    Tempting Alibi
    “It would be pointless to argue with you, wouldn’t it?” he asked, his voice low.
    “Yep.” Whether he admitted it or not, that he’d even asked meant he probably
    didn’t want to go by himself. She stood and grabbed her coat and purse from the rack
    by the front door. “I’m ready when you are.”
    * * * * *
    “Mr. O’Callaghan, I’m sorry for your loss but the truth is, your father wouldn’t
    have made it another six months. Don’t know if he’d told you but his liver was failing.”
    Dr. Benson leaned casually against the counter at the nurses’ station.
    No, his father hadn’t told him because they hadn’t talked in months. The only time
    his father contacted him was to ask for money, booze, or to bitch at him for being a
    waste of space. “What did the police say? Were there any witnesses?” Scott glanced
    over at Michaela sitting on the small plastic seat in the hospital waiting room as he
    spoke to the doctor and his heart skipped a beat.
    “Not that I’m aware of. Detective Martinez was down here earlier. He said he’d be
    calling you.”
    “What about Sheriff Hill?” Even saying the old man’s name left a bitter taste in
    Scott’s mouth.
    The doctor’s mouth pulled into a thin line. “Haven’t seen him around.” By the
    subdued tone, it sounded as if he didn’t have much respect for the old sheriff either.
    That was interesting. The doctor cleared his throat and held out his clipboard. “If you’ll
    just sign this last form, I can release his belongings.”
    Belongings? Scott wasn’t sure he wanted anything from his father, but he scribbled
    his signature at the bottom of the paper anyway. After he did, the doctor leaned over
    the counter and retrieved a small brown bag. Scott risked a glance inside. Just a lighter
    and a couple small bottles of half-empty whiskey. Big surprise.
    “This is it. Just so you know, Morton’s Funeral Home handles most arrangements
    but if you plan to let the city bury him—”
    35

    Savannah Stuart
    “I’ll call Morton’s in the morning.” He wasn’t going to have a funeral but he’d bury
    his father next to his mother. Even though it pained him to do so, he knew it would be
    what his mother wanted. He shook the doctor’s hand then headed toward Michaela.
    She stood when she saw him. His gut clenched as she strode toward him. Taking
    her to the hospital was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do and definitely not on their
    first date. Even in death his father was fucking with his life. But when she’d offered, he
    simply hadn’t been able to say no. Her offer had been completely sincere.
    Silently, she linked her arm through his as they headed down the hallway. Her
    boots clicked loudly against the linoleum. The rhythmic sound was strangely soothing.
    Cool, refreshing air rushed over them the second they stepped outside. A car horn
    blasted in the distance and an ambulance siren wailed louder and closer as they headed
    across the parking lot. It felt too surreal that his father was dead. Guilt gnawed at him
    that he’d ignored the last few messages from his father. He didn’t owe him shit, so why
    should he even care?
    Scott had been ignoring the existence of their relationship for the past couple years.
    He’d given the man money for food or booze when he’d needed it, but that was it. He
    was lucky Scott had even done that. After his mother had died, he’d become a punching
    bag to Mickey O’Callaghan. And an ashtray. Couldn’t forget that. His body wouldn’t let
    him. He’d spent four torturous years under that man’s roof until the day he’d turned
    eighteen and joined the Corps. Hell,