The next morning when I woke, Dakota was already gone. I suspected that he left before my father left for work. Since we were on Thanksgiving break, we didn't have school today, so I headed downstairs to have some breakfast. I poured myself a bowl of cereal, knowing this may be the last human food I had for a few days.
Dad came walked in, dressed in his detective uniform with his gun strapped to his side.
"Dad, I have to tell you something." I sighed, setting my cereal aside.
Dad took his gun out of his shoulder holster, checked that it was loaded, and then slipped it back. "What's wrong?"
I looked into his eyes and then motioned toward his chair. "Have a seat."
"No, hon," he said, placing his hands on my shoulders. "If you're worried about me—"
"I'm always worried about you, but this is something else." I motioned toward his seat again. "Please."
