Kara slowly ascended the stairs in the government building, not looking forward to what was waiting at the top. It was nearing midnight, but she knew he would be there working, and this conversation couldn't wait. As she entered the floor, she was immediately noticed by his coworkers. They all seemed to be milling about, discussing one thing or another - all so dedicated to their jobs that the hour had probably not even dawned on them. After briefly chatting with them, she turned to notice her stepdad eyeing her. Rarely did she visit him here, never this late.
"Are you in trouble?" he asked, keeping his voice even.
"No," she quickly answered, then rethought, "maybe . . . a little,"
"Come on in," he said, gesturing his office. She heard some snickers behind her as she made her way in. His colleagues were not used to seeing him in this role.
As she made her way to the far end of the room, he observed her attire for the evening; short black dress with leggings, and tall black boots. The face that she turned towards him was heavily made up, and her blonde hair hung long and loose. She portrayed the typical college coed out for a night on the town. Her physical distance from him conveyed her unease with the matter she needed to discuss, so he wasted no time in beginning the conversation.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I was at a party tonight and someone OD'ed," she said, wasting no time herself.
"What? What were you doing at a party where someone OD'ed?" he took a couple of steps towards her.
"I wasn't doing anything wrong. I wasn't doing drugs. I wasn't even drinking. I was out with Rachel and we decided to stop by a party that she had heard about. We had just gotten there and this guy was, like, convulsing on the floor." She paused and he saw her eyes fill with tears. He waited for her to continue, knowing there was more to the story. "No one was doing anything to help him. They were all running about, trying to collect all of their drugs, or whatever, and trying to leave. I called 911."
"Good girl," he said.
"I told them where we were, and hung up without giving my name. But then I just left, too. I didn't know what else to do"
"Whose house was this party at?"
"I don't know -"
"Kara," he said sternly.
"Really, I don't know. I told you. Rachel just heard about it from someone at school. They weren't people we knew."
"So why would you go?" he didn't intend for his voice to raise as much as it did, but was so exasperated that she had put herself into this situation. He couldn't remember a time when he had been angry with her. She was a good kid, and she wasn't his, so he tended to back off on discipline.
Her voice wasn't much above a whisper, "I don't know. We just wanted to have a good time. Do you think he is dead?"
"Where is Rachel now?"
"I told her to drop me off here and then she went home. I didn't know what else to do," the tears started down her face.
"You did the right thing. Text her and make sure she got home." He went to his desk and grabbed a pad of paper and pen, and a box of Kleenex. Once she received the confirmation that Rachel had indeed arrived home safely, he handed them to her, "Write down the address." She sat on the couch, suddenly feeling like she could no longer stand, and followed his direction.
When she had finished, he took it from her and bent to kiss the top of her head. "Wait here while I take care of this and then I will take you home." Approaching the door he turned, met her eyes, and said, "I'm glad you're safe," before he left. Kara almost scoffed at the idea of going home with him and asked him to drive her back to the dorm, but then realized that the idea of going home, to her own bed, where her parents would take care of her, sounded like a good idea. She leaned back into the couch and allowed herself to cry.
It took Dave about twenty minutes to gather all of the information he needed from his technical analyst who had agreed to stay and help him. After learning the reason for Kara's visit, and ascertaining that their services were not needed, the rest of his team left the building for the night. None of them were expected back for a couple of days. Dave made his way back to his office to relay what he had found, and anticipated the long hours still ahead of him.
He paused when he opened his office door and took in the sight of his dozing daughter. She had pulled her feet up onto the couch, but did not look particularly comfortable. He closed the door quietly behind him, but the movement was enough to jar her awake. She wiped at her tear stained face with a tattered tissue, managing to smear her excessive make-up even more, and pulled herself into a sitting position. Dave sat on the coffee table directly in front of her, unsure of how she was going to react to his news, and wanting to be able to provide her with whatever comfort she may need.
He put a hand on her knee and said, "He died. He had passed before the ambulance arrived."
Fresh tears filled her eyes and she let out a long breath that she wasn't aware she had been holding.
"Maybe I could have done something . . ."
"You couldn't. You did the right thing by calling for help. But there is nothing else you could have done to save him."
They were silent for a minute as she replayed the scene in her head. "He had stopped convulsing right before we left. Do you think that is when he died?"
"I don't know, sweetheart. It's possible, I suppose, but there is no way to know that."
She had averted her eyes, but he kept his intently on hers, waiting to see her response. When she quietly said, "I'm sorry," he moved to sit next to her and put his arms around her. She accepted his comfort and curled into him. They sat in quiet, Dave allowing her time to process what had happened.
After a few minutes, she lifted herself off of him, straightened her clothes and again wiped at her face. She stole a quick glance at his shirt and was relieved to see that none of her make-up had been transferred to it. He also took this opportunity to stand and observe. Content that she was settled for the moment, he said, "Why don't you go wash your face and then I will drive you home. We can talk to your mother together."
"What? No!" she shouted, a second wind taking hold. "We don't have to tell her anything!"
