Page 81 of Trapper Road

The forensics techs spend most of the night at the house. I’m exhausted by the time they clear the scene and I make the drive out to Kez and Javi’s cabin where I’d dropped Lanny. When I arrive I find the porch light on and a pillow and blanket set out on the couch waiting for me. I barely take the time to remove my boots before falling into a bone-tired sleep.

I’m woken the next morning by a Godawful clatter of pots and pans. I push myself upright and squint toward the racket to find Lanny standing in the middle of the kitchen, apron tied around her waist and blender whirring. It’s very obvious that the noise she’s making is intentional.

She notices me glancing her way and raises an eyebrow, challenging me to say something about the noise. Clearly she’s still angry about having to leave Reyne early and wants a fight, but it’s way too early for anything like that. I stand, stretch, and shuffle into the kitchen to snag a mug of coffee. On the way I glance outside and notice Javi and Kez’s cars are both gone.

“They already left. Kez has her anatomy scan this morning, remember?”

I nod and take a burning sip of coffee. Kez is a cop and Javi a former Marine — they know how to make coffee that will get you up and going. “You doing okay?” I ask Lanny.

She twists her mouth at my apparently stupid question. “How’s the house?” she asks instead of answering. “What happened? Kez didn’t say much when she came home last night.”

Gwen and I try to be honest with the kids. We think it’s important they understand the world and the dangers we face. But it’s hard. Lanny’s nearly an adult, and I know we can’t keep her sheltered forever, but still I find myself holding back. “It’s pretty much what Kez described on the phone. There’s a lot of blood, but no indication of anything else. Clearly something happened, but what it was is impossible to know. Hopefully, forensics will know more today after running some tests.”

She nods thoughtfully, taking the information in as she pulls a pan of muffins from the oven and replaces it with a tin of what looks and smells like banana bread. She cooks when she has a lot on her mind. “So what’s the plan for today?”

“Once I shower, I’m headed back over there to get a better sense of the damage and start cleaning up.”

“I’ll come help.”

It’s not even a question. I know for sure Gwen wouldn’t want her anywhere near that house. Not right now. It’s a crime scene. It’s also unsafe, especially while we don’t understand the threat and who was behind it. “It’s best you stay here.”

She turns to face me, crossing her arms. She’s angry. “Seriously? And do what? What’s even the point of me being here? You could have just let me stay at Reyne, you know.”

“I know none of this is fair,” I tell her, acknowledging her frustration. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

She was expecting pushback instead of sympathy and it deflates some of her anger. Her shoulders ease slightly. “Fine,” she eventually grumbles. “But these muffins are for Kez and the baby, not for you.”

Thankfully Lanny relents, sending me off to face my day with a steaming travel mug of coffee and a bag of warm muffins. I pull out of Javi and Kez’s driveway and call Gwen as I turn toward town.

The minute I hear her voice, a sense of peace and rightness settles over me. If I weren’t driving, I’d close my eyes and pretend she were next to me, that I could reach over and take her hand in mine.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Except for the substantial amount of blood in our house and our furious teenage daughter, all is great.”

Her laugh is strained, but it’s still a laugh.

I fill her in on what little I’ve learned since arriving late last night, and she tells me about the call from Mike and her talk with Connor. “How are you feeling?” I ask once she’s done.

“Truthfully? Awful. Like I’ve failed him as a parent.”

I hate the anguish in her voice. “You’re an amazing mother.”

“I just keep waiting for this to get easier and it never does. I thought we were finally putting Melvin in the past but I was lying to myself. We’ll never be rid of him. It’s just what he always wanted,” she says bitterly. “To occupy space in our lives.”

“Melvin hasn’t won,” I tell her. “Of course there’s still work to be done. But we’re doing the work every day. We’re seeing therapists, we’re talking, we’re moving forward. It’s a process, Gwen. It can’t happen overnight.”

She sighs. “I guess that’s true.”

“Connor opened up to you. That’s a good thing. It means he trusts you. It’s going to be okay, Gwen.”

We talk a while longer until I reach the house. We say our goodbyes as I turn up the gravel driveway. I notice the forensics trucks and cop cars are gone. The only evidence of their recent presence are the ruts gouged into the soft dirt up near the porch and the bright yellow crime scene tape fluttering around the door.

I duck underneath it and make my way inside. The smell hits immediately, a cloyingly thick metallic stench that sticks to the back of my throat. There’s no escaping it even if I try to breathe through my mouth. I know from experience it will only get worse as the day progresses and the air heats up, accelerating decomposition.

This morning, with the sunlight bright through the windows, the blood looks even more garish and obscene. I stand in the middle of the living room, trying to take it all in but it’s still impossible. There’s just so much of it. An impossible amount.

It’s hard not to look at the blood coating nearly every square inch as a threat. Or a promise. But who? And why here in Stillhouse Lake? We haven’t lived here in ages.

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