Page 9 of Heartbreak Bay

But I’m not sure this one is anything like the rest. He unsettles me in ways that are entirely new.

He’s an original. And he’s smart. I need to take him seriously. And I need to tell Sam, and loop in the Knoxville police.

I print out the email and close the laptop. Still thirty minutes before I need to start breakfast and wake the kids for the day, which is always something of a battle, especially when neither of them is really amorning person. They’re great kids, and they love each other deeply, but they’re also at that age where every little slight feels like a mortal wound, and the last few weeks they’ve been more reluctant about school than ever. I’d thought they’d adjusted well to the move, the new classes, the new friends ... but I constantly worry I’m missing something.

I take a minute to think about it, then reach for the phone and dial.

“Office of Dr.Katherine Marks, how may I help you? You’ve reached her answering service.”

Of course it’s too early for Dr.Marks to be in. I feel momentarily stupid, and realize I’m just dull with weariness. Not enough sleep, and I need more coffee. “Hi,” I say. “I just need to make an appointment with Dr.Marks for family counseling for later this week. Gwen Proctor, I’m already a client.”

“Okay, I can help you with that. Would you consider this urgent, ma’am?”

“No.” Hopefully.

“How about Wednesday at four? It’ll be for you and which of your family members?”

“Me, Sam Cade, and our children, Lanny and Connor Proctor.”Better if we do it together this time,I think. It feels like cracks are forming—small, subtle things. I want to keep them from growing any worse. The kids already have their own counselors, but Sam and I see Katherine Marks on a fairly regular basis to deal with our own deep-seated traumas.

None of us are in denial about our damage.

By the time I’ve confirmed the appointment, Sam comes out of the bath dressed in a towel, hair damp and gleaming tiny jewels of moisture. He looks, frankly, fantastic, and I sit on the bed and unashamedly watch as he drops the towel and reaches for his clothes. He notices. “Really?” he asks, with just a hint of encouragement. “You know I can’t be late. Private client? Money in the bank?”

“I know,” I say. “Just enjoying the view.” We understand each other perfectly, at least the vast majority of the time. When we don’t, it’s trouble, but little things? We’ve grown well past all that. It’s good. It’s even fun.

“How’s Kez?” he asks as he skims his soft blue T-shirt over his head. “Not like her to call you out at that hour.”

“She’s got a tough case,” I tell him. “You’ll probably hear about it on the news. Two little girls drowned in the back of a car, no sign of the driver at the scene.”

He hesitates as he puts on the flannel shirt to go on top. “Was the driver abducted, or do you think it was an accident, or what?”

“God knows,” I say. “The 911 call is suspicious, for sure. It’s creepy to listen to.”

“So Kez is asking for your help?”

I shrug and don’t answer, because right now I don’t know how much more involvement I’ll have. He sits down to tie his boots. “What’s your day like?” I ask him.

“Eight thirty private lesson. The guy’s pretty steady, shouldn’t be eventful. This afternoon, sessions in the simulator for the A-320.” The simulators, I know, are stressful, but he enjoys them most of the time. The stress comes from the fact that every single sim he does is going in his record, and affects his ability to make the leap to where he wants to be. But I know how steady he is, and how good. He’ll be okay.

I think about telling him about the new and dangerous troll, but to be honest, I don’t want that to poison his whole day; better to talk tonight, once we’re home and relaxed and everything is quiet.

I head for the kitchen. It’s my day for breakfast, and I make eggs and bacon and toast; Sam eats fast and heads out. The kids are a shambles, as usual, but I get them up and dressed, and make sure they have enough food and juice in front of them to give them strength to face their school day. They keep the sniping to a minimum, thankfully.

They haven’t managed to finish before the doorbell rings, and I have to take the alarm off to admit Vera Crockett. She’s wearing pajamas and ridiculously oversize house shoes and God only knows how she got here, because our house is five blocks from her small, cheap apartment. Walked, probably. Vee doesn’t give a crap what people think. She’s always had that dark, defiant streak since I first met her in Wolfhunter as a girl wrongly accused of her own mother’s murder, and it’s only grown wider as she has matured. She’salmostan adult now.

One who wears battered, enormous yeti house shoes out in public.

“Breakfast?” I ask her, and she yawns and nods. She’s still wearing the ghost of last night’s party glitter. Lanny, at least, has washed hers fully off. “You’re lucky there’s any left.”

“I ain’t picky,” she says, and winks at Lanny. “Anything’s good.”

“Tell me you didn’t walk all that way dressed like that,” Lanny says as Vee pulls up Sam’s empty chair and I get her a fresh plate. Lanny looks genuinely worried, but Vee doesn’t answer, just digs into her eggs and bacon like a starving wolf. The girl’s got manners, somewhere, but she doesn’t usually bother with them. And in truth there’s something satisfying about seeing someone so completely in the moment, every moment. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about her, and her influence on my daughter.

“Hey, Ms.P,” Vee says. “You got any ketchup for these eggs?”

I provide it and try not to shudder. “Vee, what are you doing today?”

“Nothin’.” She pops ketchup-soaked eggs into her mouth. “Killin’ the patriarchy.”

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