Page 15 of Fatal Fame
The front door opened before she could knock, and Hugh stood silhouetted against the warm light, his gray hair neatly combed.
"Mia, sweetheart," he said with a genuine pleasure at seeing her. "Come in, come in. I was just about to pour myself some tea."
The interior of Hugh's house felt like stepping back into a more gracious era. He had changed it since they’d lived there. Leather furniture worn soft by decades of use, bookshelves lined with law enforcement journals and local history volumes, the walls covered with photographs that chronicled his career and the changing face of Adirondack County. Soft jazz played from hidden speakers, and the lighting had been carefully arranged to hide sharp edges and create an atmosphere of comfortable conspiracy.
“It’s dad.”
“Ah, yes, I was about to say you look like someone who's had a difficult conversation," Hugh said, leading her into the kitchen where a kettle was already whistling on the stove. "Your father can be... rigid in his thinking sometimes."
Mia accepted the cup of tea he offered, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic and breathing in chamomile and honey. "It’s frustrating. He doesn't trust me to make my own decisions. I’m eighteen for goodness’ sakes. Old enough to be classed an adult. Heck, many people my age have moved out and started their life."
"Ah." Hugh settled into the chair across from her, his movements careful but graceful. "And what decisions are we talking about?"
"There's a podcaster investigating the Hale murders. Pierce Landry. I want to help him, maybe learn something about real investigation work, but Dad thinks it's too dangerous."
Hugh's eyebrows rose slightly, but his expression remained neutral. "Pierce Landry? I can't say I'm familiar with him, but I suppose that's not surprising. The world moves faster than old men like me can keep up with sometimes."
"Oh, he’s amazing. Nerves of steel. He's got a good reputation. Two seasons of Cold Trail, several cases where his investigation led to arrests or new evidence. He's not some amateur with a microphone."
"And you think working with him would be good experience for someone planning a career in law enforcement?"
Mia felt a surge of gratitude that someone in her family was actually listening to her instead of immediately dismissing her ideas. "I think every investigator needs a first case that's really theirs. Something where they can learn how to ask the right questions, follow leads, understand how evidence fits together."
Hugh smiled, and Mia caught a glimpse of the charm that had made him effective as both a law enforcement officer and a politician. "Truth lives in the seams, you know. Between the official narrative and what really happened. Between what people say and what they mean. Between what gets written down and what gets remembered."
"That's exactly what I'm talking about. The Hale case has been cold for ten years. Maybe fresh eyes, someone who doesn't have a stake in protecting old decisions, could see something that was missed."
"Mia, you have to understand, your father's protective instincts come from a good place," Hugh said carefully. "He's seen what can happen when investigations get complicated, when they start threatening people who have the power to pushback. But sometimes..." He paused, seeming to weigh his words. "Sometimes protection can become a prison if we're not careful."
Mia leaned forward, sensing an opportunity to make her case to someone who might actually understand. "Why is he so rigid about this? He investigates dangerous cases all the time. He takes on risk. Why can't he see that I might be capable of handling some risk too? He can’t protect me forever."
Hugh was quiet for a long moment, his gaze distant in the way that suggested he was seeing memories that weren't entirely accessible anymore. "Your father carries a lot of weight, Mia. The cases he works, the things he's seen, the responsibilities he feels toward the family. Sometimes that weight makes it hard to see that other people might be strong enough to carry some of it themselves."
"So what do I do? Give up on something I'm passionate about just because he's afraid?"
"No, you follow your instincts," Hugh said quietly. "You trust your training, even if that training comes from growing up in a family that's been in law enforcement for generations. And you remember that sometimes the people who love us most are the ones who have the hardest time seeing us as adults capable of making our own decisions."
Hugh reached across the table and patted her hand. "Listen, I'd like to be available to you, if you need advice or connections or just someone to talk through what you're learning. I know most think that I don’t have any use now but I still know people in the office. Maybe I can run a few questions by investigators. Your father's mind is clouded by work right now, but that doesn't mean you have to navigate this alone."
Mia felt tears of relief threatening behind her eyes. Finally, someone in her family who understood that she was ready for real responsibility, real challenges, real consequences. "Thank you, Grandpa. That means everything to me."
"Just promise me you'll be careful. Not because you're not capable, but because the people involved in old cases sometimes have reasons for wanting them to stay buried. And sometimes those reasons are worth killing for."
Hugh walked her to the door an hour later, his arm around her shoulders in a gesture that felt both protective and supportive.
As she drove down the winding driveway toward the road, Mia caught a glimpse of him in her rearview mirror, standing in the doorway and watching her taillights disappear into the darkness with an expression she couldn't quite read.
What she didn't see was Hugh remaining in the doorway long after her car had disappeared, his face settling into something that looked less like grandfatherly concern and more like careful calculation. She didn't see him pull out his phone and dial a number he knew by heart, or hear the brief conversation that followed.
“It’s me. It’s about Mia. She's committed to working with them," Hugh said quietly into the phone. "I will keep an eye on her."
Noah was stillin his study when his phone rang at nearly midnight, the caller ID showing his father's name in letters that seemed to glow accusingly in the lamplight. He considered letting it go to voicemail, he wasn't in the mood for one of Hugh's lectures about family dynamics or parenting strategies, but something in his gut told him this call was important.
"Dad."
"Noah," Hugh said. "We need to talk about Mia."
"What about her?"
