Acceptable Risks by Natalie J. Damschroder

here. Or maybe he had unexpected lunch plans. Or a meeting. Anything . She pressed her fingertips hard against her forehead. If her father had changed plans, he’d have let them know.
“We need to go home.” It came out as a demand and she half expected Jason to argue, to say her safety came first, but he only nodded.
“Can you handle a gun?”
She stood from where she’d been perched on the edge of Caitlyn’s desk. “Of course.”
Jason went back into the office and behind her father’s desk. He opened a cabinet in the credenza and worked a combination, added a thumbprint and spoke his name. The safe opened, revealing carefully placed weapons. He removed a small semi-automatic pistol and a box of clips, then reversed the process and came back out to her.
“Show me.” He handed her the weapon, butt first, and the box.
She set the box on the table. The gun already had a clip in it. She checked the safety and made sure to keep the barrel pointed away from Jason. Pulled back the slide to check the chamber, then carefully released it. Hit the clip release, checked the clip, and slammed it home.
Except she missed, and the clip clattered across the top of Caitlyn’s empty desk.
She froze. Jason didn’t move. She waited, willing the clip to come soaring back to her hand. “Uh…”
Jason cleared his throat. “Okay, you can handle a gun.”
Lark glared at him, but his amusement stayed behind his Captain Action façade. Still, the moment dissipated her tension a fraction.
“Can you shoot one?” he asked.
“I have.” Not memorably, but she could aim and fire.
He hesitated, and she expected him to take the weapon back. But his hand fell to his side and he said only, “All right. Let’s go.”
It was a fifteen-minute drive to her father’s house, the house where she grew up. Where her mother had died. That wasn’t something she thought about every time she came back, and she didn’t want to consider why it came to mind now. There was no reason to think her father was dead. She’d called Caitlyn’s cell phone, and Jason had tried a couple of people, but they mostly got voice mail and no one they reached had seen Matthew since he left the evening before.
Lark inhaled deeply, trying to remain calm as they pulled into the circular driveway in front of the house. Then she gasped and barely refrained from grabbing Jason’s arm again.
“Jason.”
“I see it.” The front door was open. “Stay here.”
Not even . She got out of the car and stopped. She didn’t want to get in his way, but she wasn’t sure how long she could suffer the swelling in her throat before she charged in shouting “Dad!” She counted the seconds, forcing herself to keep them slow, and ignoring the images flashing in her head. All the things Jason could find in there.
Amazingly, he appeared back on the porch way before she expected him, and waved her in. Relief made her stumble as she dashed across the macadam and up the steps to the front door. He wouldn’t call her in if her father was dead in there.
“What?” she asked breathlessly.
“Come here.”
Lark followed him to her father’s home office, the relief already having run its course. He’d found something. He stayed close beside her, as if ready to support her. Or catch her.
But there was nothing in the office to explain his concern. No blood on the floor, smashed computer, or scattered papers. The desk and files were as tidy as they always were. The computer was off.
But Jason didn’t follow her to the desk. He stood in the far corner, where there was a sofa and television, a remote in his hand. There was a sticky note on the table where the remote usually lay.
“Don’t tell me.” She circled back around the desk and stood next to him, folding her arms around herself.
He looked grim. “I won’t.” He aimed the remote at the DVD player and pressed a button.
Her father’s image appeared on the screen. He wasn’t battered or unkempt, but his eyes looked dull and he