"Caden." A heavy breath escaped her.

 

Not a good sign. Fresh bl**d lined the split in her lip. A pit of embers turned inside me. Could I come to terms with what I'd learn if I asked what had transpired when I was powerless to stop her?

 

She blocked the doorway. "What are you doing here?" Wedged in the gap, she examined the hallway.

 

A very bad sign. "Your father said you were under the weather and asked me to drop by, as I had an errand downtown." I lifted the brown paper bag.

Evidently, she mustn't have wanted her father to see her condition, hence she'd cancelled their regular Tuesday lunch and told him she was unwell.

 

How many lies did she have to tell to conceal her illicit activities?