Page 2 of Silent Road

Now, standing in her childhood home with evidence of her father's secrets literally in her hands, Sheila knew she had no choice but to confront her father.

The question was, how?

Footsteps on the porch below.Then the front door opened."Hello?"Gabriel's voice carried up the stairs, wary rather than welcoming.He must've seen her car outside.

Coming to a decision, Sheila slipped the folder back into the hidden compartment and eased the panel shut.She didn't want her father to know how much she knew.If he was going to lie to her face, she wanted to catch him in the act.

"Up here," she called, moving to the office doorway.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs.Gabriel appeared at the top, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.He filled the top of the staircase like a graying bear coming out of hibernation.His broad shoulders, built from decades of powerlifting, seemed to sag under an invisible weight.At sixty-five, he still looked strong enough to wrestle a man half his age, but something had changed in him these past few weeks.The sharp eyes that had spotted every mistake in Sheila's fighting stance back when he was teaching her how to kickbox were now clouded with exhaustion, rimmed by dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights.His silver hair was unkempt, his flannel shirt wrinkled from travel.

Even his familiar scent—a mix of leather, gun oil, and peppermint—was muted, overtaken by the sharp tang of lake water and anxiety sweat.

"Sheila."He set the bag down."What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," she said."Mr.Whitaker said you went fishing."

"Lake Powell."Gabriel's smile didn't reach his eyes."The smallmouth are biting this time of year."

"Funny.You usually mention when you're heading out there."

"It was a last-minute decision."He moved past her into the office, his shoulders tensing slightly as he scanned the room—checking to see if anything had been disturbed, perhaps?"Sometimes a man needs to clear his head."

"Without telling his daughter, even when she's calling him?"

Gabriel sat heavily in his desk chair."The reception out there is terrible.You know that."

"Dad."Sheila leaned against the doorframe, studying him."What's really going on?"

"Nothing's going on.I just needed some time alone."He shuffled some papers around as if trying to find some way to keep his hands busy.

Sheila crossed her arms, her stance casual even while she studied him like a hawk."You've been avoiding me."

"That's ridiculous."But he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Is it?Every time I try to talk to you lately, you have somewhere else to be.Training camp, coaching clinic, fishing trip."She pushed away from the doorframe."What are you afraid I'll ask you about?"

Gabriel suddenly glanced up."What were you doing in my office, anyway?"

"Looking for you," Sheila said, but even to her own ears, the answer sounded hollow.Suddenly, she was on the defensive.

"In my private office?"His eyes swept the room, lingering on the desk drawers, the filing cabinet, the wood paneling she'd helped him install."I heard the alarm chime when you came in.You still remember the code after all these years."

"Mom's birthday.You never changed it."

"No," Gabriel said quietly."I never did."He drummed his fingers on the desk."Henrietta hid a spare key in that brass deer.She thought I didn't know about it."

Sheila felt her chest tighten.Had he seen her come in?Had he been watching the house, waiting to see what she would do?

"You've been avoiding my calls," she said, going on the offensive again."What did you expect me to do?"

"I expected you to respect my privacy."There was an edge to his voice she'd rarely heard before."Just like I've always respected yours."

The implied accusation hung in the air between them.They stared at one another, father and daughter, more strangers than family at the moment.

Suddenly, Gabriel sighed and leaned back, his face softening in a smile."Look, honey, I'm beat.Can we reconnect tomorrow?Grab lunch or something?"

She decided to play one of her cards."Eddie Mills finally talked."

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