Page 25 of Bitter Falls

I eat a few bites of chicken before I say, “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Now that you kids are enrolled in the Virtual Academy, you can do your lessons anywhere, right?”

“Yeah?” Lanny, at least, doesn’t sound sure she likes where this is going. “Uh, we did our lessons, Mom. I mean, you can check.”

“I already did, and thank you. But I need to ask you all a serious question.” That gets all their attention, and for a second I doubt myself. Maybe I shouldn’t start this. Maybe I’m doing the entirely wrong thing, running away again. But I have to open the question. “What do you guys think about not fighting this war with the Belldenes?”

Sam slowly sits back. “You’re talking about moving.”

“Well, yes. I think it might be the right thing to do.” I take a deep breath and plunge in. “Look, we’ve got no reason to fight with them; we’ve got nothing to win here except staying put in a place that barely tolerates us, in a house that’s now listed on message boards and websites all over the internet to make it convenient for even more people to harass and threaten us. Sam, I know finding work has been tougher for you since—since all that mess with the documentary. And kids—” I look at Lanny and Connor. “You haven’t had an easy time of it here. I’m sorry for that. I thought I was doing something good making you part of the community, but...the community’s not taking us in. And I know how much that hurts.”

Connor doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at his plate. Lanny says, “Well, there are some nice people here. Kez and Javier, even Detective Prester. A few teachers aren’t terrible.” She’s trying to be fair, but I know it hasn’t been easy for her either. The friends she made a year ago aren’t her friends now. I don’t like my kids feeling so...alone.

Sam’s not giving me anything. He’s gone quiet, which means he’s trying not to put too much weight into this conversation—which is less a conversation right now and more of a monologue. I need him to jump in, but when he doesn’t, I feel compelled to keep going.

“I can ask in town about selling the house,” I tell him. “That doesn’t mean we have to make a commitment right now, just...look at our options. Hell, we could even rent the place out, the way some others around the lake do.” Nothing except a slow nod. So I keep talking. “I need to interview the dad of my missing person in Louisiana, check with the victim’s friends there, things like that. It’ll take some legwork to cover all the bases.” I pause and look at my children. “I can take you guys along if—and this is a bigif—you promise me that you’re going to treat this seriously. I can leave you at the hotel while I’m doing my work, and you can do your school assignments. And—”

Sam says, “I can come along.”

I don’t expect that, and I’m left not quite knowing what to think about it. I scramble, because I don’t know what he’s thinking. “Don’t you have work?”

“Yeah, well, seems like my services are no longer required at the jobsite.”

I’m stunned. “Why?”

“At a guess? The Belldenes have put the word out they don’t want me working anywhere in this county.”

I feel a pulse of real, vicious anger toward everybody who had a hand in putting that bitter misery in his eyes. It’s there for only a moment, then quickly gone, and he’s smiling again.

“Bright side, that’s a lot less gas I burn. Downside...not sure what I’m going to do now.” His voice is even, his eyes steady. Whatever fury he has boiling in there, he’s not letting it out.

“Damn, I’m so sorry. This is all—” I gesture helplessly at the world. At myself. The whole package, bound up with a past I can’t control and can never shed. Scars and wounds and armor and agony.

I’m angry for him. A little angryathim, truthfully, that he didn’t tell me before we sat down here. But it’s why he was so noncommittal earlier. He wanted me to have reasons to leave this place that weren’t about him.

I make my tone lighter, my smile brighter. “In that case,” I say, “I don’t see any reason why you can’t join us for our epic road trip out to Louisiana.” And honestly, now that I’ve said it, I realize that I’m actually relieved. I don’t even know why for a moment; it hasn’t occurred to me until now that this case is leading me back to a place I desperately never wanted to go.

Back to the bayous. To a sweaty green hell like the place I faced down my ex-husband and my own personal nightmares.No, this isn’t anything like that,I tell myself sternly.This is me, going to help someone else. I’m in control.

That doesn’t stop my heart from racing, or my muscles from tensing. I’ve made strides in overcoming the trauma that I suffered after the night I was forced to kill Melvin. But that doesn’t mean it’s completely behind me either.I need to call my therapist,I think. And that’s probably a good impulse; I already booked Connor in for a session next week. I should make sure I get myself right too. Between the impending threat of the Belldenes and this foreboding trip...I can feel myself starting to spin out.

And Sam knows it, I think, because he says, “Louisiana. Where exactly—”

“Not there,” I tell him, shorthand that he understands perfectly. “But you know, same state. Similar area. So I...I appreciate your company.”

“And after that?”

I take a deep breath. “Kids? What do you think?”

They’re quiet, looking at each other, and then Connor slowly raises his hand. “I vote we move,” he says.

“Where?”

“Anywhere but here?”

That’s pretty definitive. I fix my gaze on Lanny, who crosses her arms. “Sure,” she says. “I guess. Not like I’ve got any social life here anyway. But not anyplace small, okay? Someplace interesting. Maybe somewhere with more than two fast food choices.”

“I’ll take that under consideration,” I tell her. Back to Sam. “You?”

“I know you hate giving up.”

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