Chương 6
“Did he mention the threat?”
“No.”
“Did he mention laughing?”
“No.”
“He was cooperating less enthusiastically then.”
Linda looked at her. “You saw that?”
“He laughed until Marcus hit the ground.”
“I meant you saw everything. You were tracking everybody.”
Dana pulled at a loose thread on her pajama knee. “Habit.”
Linda poured sugar into her coffee. “I heard the whole threat.”
“You told police?”
“Yes.”
“Will you say it again if this gets worse?”
Linda stopped stirring.
The pause lasted long enough to become an answer.
“My husband works for Warren’s development company,” she said. “Not directly. He’s a project estimator. There are rumors about layoffs.”
Dana looked at the red word on the garage.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. I’m not saying I’ll lie.”
“You’re saying truth has a mortgage.”
Linda’s mouth tightened. “That sounds harsh.”
“It wasn’t meant to.”
“It still is.”
They sat in uncomfortable silence.
A blue jay landed on the mailbox, examined them, and flew away.
Linda said, “I’ll tell the truth.”
Dana nodded.
“But I’m scared.”
“So am I.”
Linda looked surprised.
Dana drank the rest of the coffee. It had too much sugar. She did not say so.
The officer arrived at eleven forty. By then the paint had fully dried, two cars had slowed to take photographs, and somebody had left a small American flag beside Dana’s mailbox. She could not decide whether it was support or mockery.
The officer took a report and asked whether she had cameras.
Dana had purchased a doorbell camera but never installed it. The unopened box remained on a shelf in the garage beneath Christmas lights.
“I kept meaning to,” she said.
The officer glanced at the box. “Most people do after something happens.”
When he left, Dana removed the paint herself.
The solvent smeared KILLER into a pink cloud before the letters disappeared. Red streaks ran down her forearms. By the time she finished, the garage door looked bruised.
At noon, her sister called from Denver.
Mara began with, “I am not judging you.”
“You called to judge me.”
“I called because Mom saw the video.”
“Which one?”
“Apparently there are versions, which is concerning.”
Dana leaned against the garage. “I didn’t hurt him.”
“He looked hurt.”
“He looked embarrassed.”
“Men have killed women over less.”
The words stopped Dana.
Mara continued more softly. “That’s why I’m not saying you were wrong. I’m saying I’m afraid of what comes next.”
“Mom will tell everyone I inherited Dad’s temper.”
“She already did.”
Dana closed her eyes.
Their father had punched walls, doors, one refrigerator, and eventually Mara’s first husband. He had never struck his daughters, a distinction he defended as if it entitled him to gratitude.
Dana joined the Army at nineteen partly because uniforms came with rules about where anger could go.
Mara said, “Did Lily see everything?”
“Yes.”
“How is she?”
“With Ryan.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I don’t know.”
There it was. The cost beneath every other cost.
Dana did not know what her daughter felt because Lily did not trust her enough to say it.
On Monday morning, Dana woke at five thirty from habit, showered, dressed, and packed a lunch before remembering she had nowhere to go.
She stood in the kitchen holding a turkey sandwich.
At six fifteen, school buses began moving through the neighborhood. Dana knew the route numbers by sight. Bus 214 carried six extra cases of bottled water because its afternoon run crossed a construction zone where traffic backups had become unpredictable. Bus 307 needed a replacement first-aid seal. Ken would forget to check.
She opened her work email.
Access denied.
The district had suspended her credentials.
Dana called Marilyn.
“Do not try to log in,” Marilyn said.
“I already did.”
“I can see that.”
“Bus 307—”
“Dana.”
“The first-aid seal expired Friday.”
“Ken replaced it.”
Dana went quiet.
Marilyn said, “You are allowed not to be necessary for one morning.”
The kindness was clumsy. That made it worse.
“I’ll call you when legal finishes review,” Marilyn said.
“Are parents really calling?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Enough.”
“Are any defending me?”
Marilyn hesitated. “That is not how calls to the superintendent usually work.”
Afterward, Dana drove to Ryan’s house.
She did not warn him because she knew he would tell her not to come.
Lily stood at the curb with her backpack when Dana pulled up. Ryan was beside her, holding a travel mug. His expression hardened.
Lily looked at the car, then away.
Dana parked and stepped out.
Ryan walked toward her. “What are you doing?”
“Taking her to school.”
“She asked me to.”
Dana looked at Lily.
Lily adjusted one backpack strap. “Dad said people might be there.”
“People where?”
“At school.”
“Who?”
“Kids.”
Ryan said, “The clip is everywhere.”
Dana lowered her voice. “I can handle kids.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
She stared at him.
He rubbed his forehead. Grease no longer darkened his fingers. His nails were clean. The ordinary detail reminded Dana that a full day had passed for everyone else too.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said.
“Yes, you did.”
Lily stepped between them. “Stop.”
They stopped.
Lily looked at Dana. “Are you going to get arrested?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dad said maybe.”
Ryan lifted both hands. “I said the police were still investigating.”
“You said people don’t get away with attacking someone because they were in the Army.”
Dana turned toward him.
He looked ashamed for less than a second, then defensive.
“I was angry,” he said.
“You said it where she could hear.”
“You threatened a man where she could hear.”
“I didn’t threaten him.”
“You told him nobody threatens your daughter again.”
“After he threatened her through me.”
Lily covered her ears.
The movement ended the argument more effectively than any reasonable sentence could have.
Dana crouched several feet away from her.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Lily lowered her hands.
“I’m not going to make you choose who drives.”
“Can Dad?”
“Yes.”
May you like
Lily nodded.
Dana stood.
