Page 21 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
“That’s too long!” Knox clicked on her calendar. “I could—no, crap, Hudson’s got an indoor track meet starting at nine and Ginny’s going to an ice-skating party.”
Zhào looked at Russ. “Why don’t I just bring them up to you tomorrow? It can’t be that long a drive to Millers Kill.”
“About an hour,” Russ said.
“An hour and a quarter if you actually drive the speed limit.” Knox looked at him pointedly.
He ignored that, too. “I’ve got a thing tomorrow afternoon.” He made an involuntary face. “Could you make it Sunday? After lunch? The baby goes down for a nap around two.”
“That would work perfectly for me,” Knox said.
“Okay.” Zhào peered at the phone he held out and typed in the contact information.
“What’s your thing tomorrow afternoon?” Hadley asked. “You don’t sound thrilled about it.”
“Another one of Clare’s projects. Outreach to a couple oflocalwhite power types.”
Zhào crossed her arms on the table. “Keep your eyes open, then. ’Cause these people are everywhere, and they’re getting organized.”
9.
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 6
“Please don’t treat this afternoon like an investigation.” Clare looked out the window as the truck jounced down a packed dirt road framed with bare-branched trees and drifts of withered leaves.
“They might know something, Clare. How many racist fan clubs could there be around here?”
“You mean in the over nine thousand square miles of the Park?”
“Which has a population less than that of Syracuse, yes.”
She shut her mouth over a snappy comeback. At least his meeting last night in Albany had left him a lot more eager for their getting-to-know-you lunch. She could stop feeling guilty about her spontaneous acceptance of Meghan Smith’s offer. Maybe.
“Is this the turnoff?”
“It looks like it, yes.” GPS could be less than accurate in back-country areas; they were consulting the directions Meghan had given her.
Despite being dirt, it was a new road, with a wide, unforested verge and none of the ubiquitous dry stone walls that ran along old lanes and property lines. It opened even wider into a generous cleared area, with a two-story log house facing southwest, and a couple large machine storage sheds along the tree line near the road. They pulled onto a gravel parking square at the side of the house.
“The exit signal is ‘Honey, have you checked in with Mom?’”
“I remember.” Clare laid her hand on his arm. “I promise, I won’t linger. When you want to go, we go.”
To her vast surprise, Russ didn’t want to leave as soon as possible. Rick, it turned out, was a contractor who had built their house himself and installed the very nice sunken-stone patio they were using for outdoor entertaining. Since Russ had been thinking about renovating the rectory carriage house into guest quarters, the two men were soon in a deep discussion of framing, reinforcing foundations, and the benefits of septic tanks versus town water.
“It’s been such a game changer.” Meghan stepped down from the kitchen level and set a breadboard on the round wooden table flanked by tall heaters. “We spendsomany months stuck inside in the cold weather. This has given us two, maybe three more months of fresh-air family time.”
Her kids were running around the yard, playing some game with elaborate and undiscoverable rules. Ethan, snug in padded overalls and a thick jacket, had discovered the curving built-in stone wall made a perfect support for adventures in walking. Clare was keeping her eyes on him in case he was able to cross the flagstone expanse from the wall to the fire pit.
Meghan carefully set a hot dip in a chafing dish onto the table. “Oh, God, the learning-to-walk days. Rick wanted to put a helmet on Marissa. Can you imagine?”
Since it sounded like an excellent idea to Clare, yes, she could imagine. “So he’s not as keen on free-range parenting?”
“I’ve converted him, mostly.” Meghan unscrewed a thermos and began pouring hot cider into two mugs. “He’s been talking about getting them their junior hunting licenses since the day they were born, and I pointed out he wanted confident, self-reliant kids when he finally took them into the woods. And you know, free-range doesn’t mean running wild. My kids are good listeners. It’s finding that balance. You want them to obey you, but also to be able to think for themselves.” She handed Clare a mug and sat down. “I’ve seen the results of doing it the other way. My oldest sister stayed in Long Island and her kids couldn’t be in their fenced backyard without her watching them. We can scarcely get her to visit, she’s so afraid one of them might step into the forest around here.” She waved her hand at the trees encircling their landscape. “Her oldest is in high school now, for crying out loud. And of course they just suck down everything the school system and Big Media tell them.” She leaned in toward Clare. “If you want your kids to think for themselves, you need to start early.”
Clare wrapped her hands around the hot drink. “So… how do you deal with school?”
“I homeschool.” She held up a finger. “I know what you’re thinking—I’m a minister, I’m working, homeschooling wouldn’t work for me.”
