Page 23 of Darkwater Lane

“It’s just water, Ms. P,” Vee says. “Nothing permanent.”

I’m still not sure I want Lanny going down that road, but I decide that maybe now isn’t the time to have that argument—not when everyone seems to be in a good mood. It’s unclear whether Vee knows the podcast even exists, and it’s nice to have a night of quasi-normalcy.

After dinner, she and Lanny disappear into Lanny’s room and Connor heads to his to work on homework. Sam retreats to our home office with his laptop. Even though he leaves the door cracked, it’s pretty clear he wants to be left alone, so I take a long shower and fall into bed. I try to wait up for him, but I drift off at some point, waking again in the early morning hours.

The first thing I do is check the house alarm. Vee isn’t always the best about arming it when she leaves. I note the telltale flash of red, indicating it’s active. Of course, that would be the case if she didn’t leave… I grab my phone and pull up the tracking app. Her icon is parked at her apartment complex, which means she made it home safely last night.

Lanny’s and Connor’s phones indicate they’re here, and I resist the urge to slip down the hallway and crack open their doors just tobe sure. Instead, I start a pot of coffee and carry a steaming mug to my office.

Sam’s laptop is charging on the table in the corner, and I can’t help but glance around my desk to see if he left any indication of what he was working on. I’ve noticed he’s been spending more and more time online lately, and while it could easily be re-certifications or trainings for work, my gut says it’s something else.

He’s been obsessed with tracking down Leo in order to definitively prove his innocence, but as far as I know, he hasn’t had any better luck than I have. I worry that Sam’s hunt for exoneration may lead him into some pretty dark corners of the internet, but ultimately, I have to trust him.

I’m behind on my work for J.B., so I decide to start on that instead of Sicko Patrol. I finish up the report I’ve been drafting and am compiling the supporting docs to go along with it when Lanny pops her head around the doorjamb. Her expression is comically hopeful.

“No, you can’t borrow the car,” I tell her before she can even ask.

She lets out that sigh-slash-groan that only teenagers can master. “Seriously Mom? How long are you going to punish me?”

“It’s not a punishment,” I tell her. “It’s a precaution.”

She crosses her arms and scowls. “It might as well be a punishment,” she grumbles. “You let me drive to school last week just fine. I don’t see why that has to change because of some stupid podcast.”

We’ve had this debate so many times, I don’t even have to say anything. I just look at her with one eyebrow raised.

“Fine,” she says with a huff before turning and retreating to her room to finish getting ready.

Sam’s next, bearing a refill of coffee. I take it gratefully and inhale deeply before swallowing a long sip. I don’t care that it burns my throat. It’s heaven. I let out a contented sigh.

“You know the sounds you make are borderline indecent,” he says.

“Is that the reason you bring me a fresh mug every morning?” I ask.

He gives me a sly smile. “That might be part of it.”

Normally he would punctuate a statement like that with a kiss, but instead he moves toward the chair in the corner of the office and takes a seat. It’s only then that I notice he closed the door behind him when he came in. He must have something on his mind that he doesn’t want the kids to overhear us discussing.

My grip around the mug tightens. “What’s up?”

“I spoke with Rowan Applegate last night.”

I nearly choke on my coffee. “What?”

“She’s Callie’s sister. In some weird way, that makes us family. I thought maybe if we talked, I could change her mind about us. You know, like me getting to know you changed my opinion of you.”

I think back to the summer I first met Sam. At the time, I hadn’t known about his connections to the Lost Angels or that he held me responsible for his sister’s death. I had no idea that he was trying to get close to me so he could exact his revenge.

He makes a good point. It’s easy to demonize and victimize others when you don’t see them as actual human beings—as people with families and dreams and fears, just like you.

“Since she’s the de facto head of the Lost Angels now and a co-host of the podcast, I was hoping she might be willing to take down the show once she understood how it was affecting us.”

“Did it work?”

He lets out a snort. “No. If anything, I’m afraid I may have made her angrier.” He shifts in his seat, looking frustrated. “I tried to tell her that Callie wouldn’t want this—she wouldn’t want people demonizing me and threatening my family.”

From everything Sam has told me about his sister, that sounds like her.

Sam shakes his head. “Rowan was apoplectic. She screamed that I had no idea what Callie wanted because I didn’t know her.She said I didn’t grow up with her, didn’t comfort her after she had nightmares in the middle of the night, or help her pick out her prom dress, or dry her tears after her first boyfriend broke up with her. I wasn’t there for her then, and I wasn’t there for her when she died.”

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