Page 71 of Second Chance

“What? In the movies, the cops always spend hours on stakeouts. They change the lighting between shots and everything!”

“They also conveniently cut out all the parts between the beginning of the stakeout and the part where something interesting happens.”

“Not true.” Tony takes a deep sip of the coffee in his to-go mug. “There have been at least five episodes ofBoneswhere the people on the stakeout have a meaningful heart-to-heart right before the suspect does something.”

“I blotted those from my memory.”

Tony laughs at the blatant lie. She complains about the show too often to have forgotten anything. Then he sobers immediately. He shouldn’t be laughing. Daniel’s missing,possible injured or—or something. He looks over at Colette and sees the guilt on her face as clear as it must be on his own.

They lapse into silence for a while, watching the house.

It’s a perfectly normal house. The yard is maybe a little overgrown, but the local HOA will have to accept extenuating circumstances for Mr. Lawrence forgetting to mow the lawn. The kitchen window has those little lacy half curtains Tony remembers from his grandma’s place. A cutout of a pumpkin in transparent paper hanging above them must color the room light orange in the evening, something Francie made in preschool or kindergarten or wherever she goes.

A half an hour passes before a family-sized Subaru pulls up in the driveway.

Quickly, Colette snaps a picture of the license plate.

The cruel, cynical part of Tony wants to point out there’s not a lot they can do with a license plate. If the car belongs to Lawrence, they’re already watching him. If it doesn’t, getting the numbers run would involve letting Detective Taylor know what they’re up to.

A middle-aged woman in a black coat gets out of the driver’s seat as the front door to the house opens. Francie runs out and throws herself bodily at the woman. She bends to hug Francie, and the movement turns her face toward Tony.

“That must be Lawrence’s mom,” he says.

“They do look alike,” Colette agrees.

They mostly both look heartbroken.

Mr. Lawrence appears in the doorway. He appears worse than he did a few days ago at the memorial. He still hasn’t shaved, and Tony’s willing to bet he’s wearing the same shirt, the buttons now misaligned and a stain near the collar.

The woman pulls away from Francie to draw her son into a hug. He crumples against her like a puppet with its strings cut. For a moment, Tony thinks they’ll both fall, but Lawrence catches himself before he can put too much weight on her, stepping back and away.

From behind the door, he pulls out a purple suitcase, followed by a laundry basket full of stuffed animals and pillows. The last thing is a ludicrously tiny backpack with one of thePaw Patroldogs on it.

The woman starts loading things into the trunk of the Subaru while Lawrence crouches in front of his daughter.

Francie won’t even look at him.

His hands are tight on her shoulders, perhaps too tight. He says something they can’t hear, but it must be important because he’s impressing it on her so intensely. When he finishes, he pulls her into a rough hug she doesn’t return.

Francie gets into the car with her grandmother, and the Subaru drives off.

Lawrence watches them go, leaning against the doorframe as if it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

“See?” Colette says. “He’s incredibly suspicious.”

Tony turns to look at her incredulously. “Are you kidding me right now? He’smiserable.”

“Guilty people often are.”

“No way. That’s a man who just became a single father. That’s a man who just lost the love of his life.”

Colette purses her lips. “And he’s sending his daughter away right after a tragic loss because…”

A sharp tap on the window makes them both flinch in their seats.

Lawrence peers at them through the glass.

Feeling very much the way he did the time his dad caught him sneaking in late from a party, Tony rolls down his window. “Hi.”

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