He cradled the phone again, having left another voicemail for his daughter Emmett Carver tried not to dwell on the fact that this was the fourteenth message in as many days and still he hadn't heard back from her.
Not being a man who liked to give any weight to emotions, he found that his eyes had suddenly grown blurry and even as he reached for his medication, he realised it wasn't the result of his heart condition, rather he was holding back tears.
Carver knew that he hadn't been the most warm nor approachable person since his wife's betrayal. He knew what his reputation in some circles was and had hoped the transfer to Gracepoint would have been a new start to his life.
Even that betrayal of his hopes and dreams hadn't been enough to break him.
But the one person he had counted on to love him unconditionally, the baby he had spent many sleepless nights with, rocking and crooning her as she fussed, the toddler for whom he had kissed many scraped knees, the young woman he listened to without judgement when she told him her heartaches, his daughter, had turned against him and that hurt more than anything else that had been thrown at him.
Finally realising he still held the phone he shoved it into his pocket with a flicker of disgust at his weakness showing on his careworn face.
Back before his heart condition had reared its ugly head, he would have crawled inside a bottle, drowning his sorrows in alcohol until he felt nothing but the warm embrace of sweet oblivion.
But now even that was denied him. How many times had he sat in a doctor's office, a cold stethoscope pressed to his chest and told that even a second glass of wine could kill him?
Maybe, he mused as he looked at the hotel mini-bar, that would be the way to go, drink himself, literally to death?
Shaking his head he put that thought out his mind, for now. He had Danny Solano's murder to solve, to redeem himself, even if only in his own eyes by proving he was a good cop, not the failure as others seemed to think he was.
With a deep sigh he noticed the time. Normal people, (whoever they are, he snorted) would be eating dinner about now. The hotel's restaurant, with its barely reheated pre-packaged food made his stomach hurt just thinking about trying to choke yet another meal down.
"A change of scenery," he said to the empty room, "that's what I need."
Grabbing his coat, he checked the inside pocket reflexively feeling for the syringe of medication that was the only thing that often stood between him and the grim reaper, before stepping into the hallway.
As he closed the door he realised he wasn't alone. Hand going instinctively to his gun he whirled around to face this presence.
"Julianne?" was all he managed to get out before his vision blurred again, the hallway seemed to tilt and his world went black.
Even before he opened his eyes, Carver knew where he was. The sharp medicinal smell of hospitals was unmistakable and becoming far too familiar.
The big question was; how had he gotten there?
Opening one eye he saw a familiar face smiling at him, "dad?" his daughter rose from her seat, "are you OK?"
The words he wanted to say, how much he missed her, how not having her in his life anymore, not being the one she came to when she needed a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on, or just a fatherly hug, caught in his throat.
Instead he frowned, "I'm fine," he said gruffly, "what are you doing here?"
"I missed you," Julianne said holding back the tears at seeing the man she always thought of as a rock, looking so ill and so vulnerable, "I'm so sorry I didn't return your calls, I was with mom and she..."
She broke off with a shaky breath, "please let me stay with you, let me take care of you?"
Carver looked away, staring at Julianne was like looking into the sun, it burned his soul as well as his eyes. He knew he should offer her an olive branch, forget the past and make this moment a new start.
"You shouldn't be here," he growled low in his throat, "this is a very bad idea. You should go home."
In his mind he was offering her an out, a way to gracefully back out of her emotion driven plea.
"You need me," Julianne said resolutely, "and I'm not leaving you again."
Closing his eyes tightly Carver willed the emotions that threatened to spill of his already wounded heart to go away. Praying for the first time in many years, he hoped by the time he opened his eyes again, she would be gone.