was a car accident.”
Rachel took a deep breath to ease the sharp pain of sympathy in her chest. Mac turned again, his face dark and intent. “Amanda was in the car.”
Rachel’s eyes went wide in shock. Damn Frank. These details should have been in the report. This was important information and she looked and felt like a fool for being in the dark about it.
“What happened?”
Mac shrugged and idly wiped at the counter with a sponge, but she could see the rock-hard muscle in his jaw. “She just lost control of the car. Amanda was asleep in the back. She says she doesn’t remember anything.” He sighed and looked at Rachel for a long, long time. And Rachel knew what that look was, could feel it in the pit of her stomach and the marrow of her bones. The look was about trust. And after a moment, Mac glanced away. Silent.
She didn’t measure up and his judgment slid through her like a knife. It would take time, she knew that. It would take time with any social worker, but after what she had done to him, the way she had treated him, she imagined it would take even longer.
“What was your wife’s—”
“I’m ready.” Both Mac and Rachel turned at the sound of Amanda’s voice. The girl stood on the landing like a bird ready to take flight. Her hands were fisted at her sides and her mouth was pressed into a thin angry line, but her eyes darted between Mac and Rachel.
“It’s nice to see you again, Amanda,” Rachel said. She had to have control of this situation. If Amanda caught on to her father’s distrust of Rachel, nothing would ever be accomplished.
Amanda warily approached, and Mac leaned over and whispered, “Remember what we talked about.”
Rachel could guess what they’d discussed.
Amanda pulled out a chair at the island and Mac continued his pointless wiping of the already clean counter.
“How was school today?” Rachel asked, trying to get Amanda’s attention away from her father.
“Stupid.”
Mac cleared his throat.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes.
“Do you like school?
Amanda shrugged, and Mac shut a cupboard door with a little more noise than necessary.
“It’s fine,” she said on a long-suffering sigh.
“Amanda.” Mac faced his daughter with a cold, all-business look in his eye.
Rachel stood and grabbed her light jacket from the back of her chair. “Amanda, let’s go for a walk.” She’d jumped in before Mac could say anything else. The two of them stared at her with their identical ice-blue eyes and Rachel smiled. “I need some fresh air.”
Amanda gave her dad a look that was guaranteed to make him say no—a help-me-Daddy-I’m-scared look that Rachel had seen manufactured on kids’ faces for years. Kids were better manipulators than parents ever dreamed.
“You’ll be fine,” Mac whispered, surprising Rachel a little. “Take a jacket.”
Amanda’s chair grated across the floor as she pushed away from the island. She stomped over to the closet and grabbed a blue windbreaker.
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