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arms out. I withdrew, not sure I wanted to hug him, but eventually let myself into the folds of his arms. His name was Kevin, and I knew that of the people who would be trying to stomp the Cold Steel Motorcycle Club into the ground, he’d be one of the most fervent.
    “ I’m so sorry, Samantha.” he said, rubbing his hand up and down my back. I sniffled into his crisp blue shirt. He pulled away, shaking his head. “Go on in and see him. Then we will need you to come in and make a statement. I know, it’s going to be hard, but it could help a lot to have your input. Take your time, though. I’ll be waiting right here for you when you’re done, and I’ll take you down to the station myself.”
    “ Can’t Alicia and Becky take me?” I asked, gesturing to my friends, who were standing a little bit behind us. I couldn’t imagine what would happen to me without them; they were, really, the only things that were keeping me from having a full-on breakdown. Kevin nodded.
    “ Of course. But you’ll be talking to me at the station, okay? So don’t worry. We’re going to take care of everything,” he said. I was grateful, now, that he was there. I had always liked Kevin, and it was good to have one more person I could trust on my side. Not that the entire police force and, probably, the whole city wasn’t on my side; but it’s different when you know someone is fighting for you.
    I almost couldn’t go into the room on my own. I stood outside the door, chewing my lip, ready to break into sobs any second, trying to find the words to say when I finally saw my father. How could I ever tell him just how sorry I was for not listening to him in the first place? He had been right; of course he had been right. Aren’t fathers always right?
    Finally, I pushed the door open. The sobs that had been hiding came out to play, and I wailed when I saw him sitting up and looking at me, his face furrowed with concern.
    “ Daddy! I’m so sorry!” I cried, rushing to his side. I wanted to hug him, but when I saw the sling around his arm I worried about hurting him.
    “ Baby, Samantha, stop, it’s okay, I’m okay!”
    “ No, you’re not! You got shot and Mom got taken and it’s all my fault!”
    “ It’s not, baby, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault, I promise,” my father said, reaching out to stroke my chin with the back of his hand. The contact stilled me almost instantly. “It’s not, baby, really.”
    “ But…but…” I said, sniffling.
    “ No buts. It’s not your fault. It’s not even that boy’s fault. They were wearing masks, Samantha, but I know he wasn’t there. It was that father. He kept asking for him…for Boon. But that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, Sammy. I’m going to be fine, and we’re going to find your mother, and she’ll be fine too. I can leave here tomorrow, they said. And Mom will be home by then, in good hands, and it’ll all be okay. Just like a bad dream.”
    I stared into my father’s eyes as he spoke, praying that I would see only the strong, confident man I’d grown to trust so much over the course of my life. But there was something else under the knowing façade he was putting up. He didn’t know any of that, and I could tell, just under the surface, that he had doubts about everything he was saying.
    Well of course he has doubts, moron, his wife is currently missing, in the hands of a gang of violent bikers, I thought to myself, scolding myself for expecting my father to be brave when it was him, not me, that got shot in the arm.
    “ Have you spoken to the police yet?” he asked.
    “ No, not yet,” I said, my voice regaining some semblance of control. Talking to my father had made me feel worlds better, even if I knew he was just saying things he didn’t believe in order to make me stop crying.
    “ Go. Talk to them. Any information you can give them will do a lot more good than keeping me company,” he said, his voice turning stern. I knew that