Left To Die

Adele glanced back, half searching the ground for where she’d left her spine, but also checking to make sure she hadn’t tracked any mud in the house.

She took her shoes off at the door to the kitchen and stepped onto the cold tiled floor with her socks.

“Hungry?” her father asked, leaning over a pot and stirring it with a wooden spoon. He peered into the metal container as tendrils of steam drifted up toward him, and his left hand finagled with the heat knob on the stove.

“Not really,” said Adele.

Her father glanced back at her. “You should eat. You look horrible. Have you been sleeping?”

Adele sighed. “No, not much. I’m on a case.”

“Can’t solve the case if you can’t sleep. You should know that.”

Adele massaged the bridge of her nose and wearily collapsed in a seat at the kitchen table, leaning back, then quickly remembering how much her dad hated it when people rocked in his chairs; she leaned forward again, sitting upright, with her forearms on the table, but her elbows just off.

It was like a soldier rehearsing drills they’d learned when they first entered boot camp.

Her drill sergeant was still making soup.

“It’s clam chowder,” her father said, continuing in German. “Your favorite, right?”

Adele gave a half shrug. “I don’t really like soup.”

Her father made a clicking sound and poured a bowl, and then another.

“Soup is good for you. Comes in all sorts of flavors, and doesn’t have many calories. Do you know what calories are? I was just reading about them the other day.”

“I know what calories are, Dad,” said Adele.

Joseph Sharp nodded at this and came over carrying the soup. He placed the bowl in front of Adele, and then placed another one on a tray on the table.

“Careful, it’s hot. Don’t eat it yet.”

“I get it, Dad, why does everything you say have to sound like an order?”

He glanced at her, frowning slightly, and then reached up stroking at the edge of his mustache. “Just saying don’t burn yourself.”

Adele sighed once more and nodded again.

Coming here had been a mistake. Same old dad. Same old house.

He’d lived here for nearly thirty years.

She remembered growing up in this house. And, unsurprisingly, it was as clean and neat as she remembered. Her father took the tray with his soup and left the kitchen, strolling over to an old reclining chair facing a TV. He sat in the chair and set the tray on a coffee table.

Adele sat at the kitchen table, watching as her father ignored her and began sipping at his soup, staring at the TV, his profile outlined against a window at his side.

“I was hoping we could catch up,” she said, trying to keep her tone even, calling out from the kitchen.

“Sharp, please don’t shout. You know how it sets off the neighbor’s dogs.”

She got to her feet, leaving her soup, and went over to her father. “How have you been?”

He glanced over at her. “Working. Why? You don’t need money, do you?”

“Dammit, no, I don’t.”

He frowned at the curse word and shook his head. “All right, what do you want?”

“I wanted to stop by and say hi.”

“Do you need my help with a case?”

She tucked her tongue inside a cheek, counting quietly to ten in her head. Her father had never made it past desk sergeant with the German police force. He had always fancied himself a bit of an investigator, but his superiors hadn’t seen it the same way.

“No, Dad. I mean, I could use all the help I can get on this one. But I’m not sure there’s anything you can help me with.”

“You going to eat your soup?”

“It’s hot.”

“Well, if you just leave it there, it can condense; the water will stain the table. Could you at least put a napkin or two down?”

Adele wanted to protest, but she just didn’t have the energy. The exhaustion she’d felt over the last two days felt multiplied all of a sudden as she stood in the well-lit, cleanly kept house.

For the first time this week, she found herself missing John’s company. Agent Renee was downright pleasant compared to this.

She stomped back into the kitchen, intentionally slamming her feet into the ground, knowing it would bother her father, and then took the bowl of soup and dumped it in the sink.

“What was that?” her dad called through the open door.

“Dad, do you want to watch TV, or do you want to catch up? Because honestly, I could use some sleep if you’re not looking to talk.”

“There’s no room upstairs. Your old room is now my home office.”

“I wasn’t asking to stay here. We were given rooms at the motel across from the airport.”

“The airport? How’d you get here?”

“Bus, then walked. But seriously, you’re in good health?”

Joseph nodded, lifting his bowl of soup and drinking the rest of it, downing it in a couple of gulps. The bowl was still steaming, but the heat didn’t seem to bother him.

He wagged his finger toward the TV, chuckling as a cop channel displayed a foot chase with a couple of dogs biting into the leg of a fleeing suspect.

“Been seeing anyone?” said Adele. The moment the question left her lips, she kicked herself. She had just been looking for something to say, but she knew her dad wouldn’t take it well.