"That bloody music put a roof over your head."
"Dad." With the stuffed dog clutched in her arms, Emma stood in the
doorway, her eyes wide and frightened, her lower lip trembling. She had
heard the angry voices, smelled the hot odor of liquor before she
stepped into the room.
"Emma." A bit unsteady, Brian walked over to pick her up, careful not to
jar her arm with the cast. "What are you doing down here?"
"I had a bad dream." The snakes had come back, and the monsters. She
could still hear the echo of Darren's cries.
"Hard to sleep in a strange bed." Liam got to his feet. His hand was
awkward, but it was gentle as he patted her head. "Your grandda will
fix you some warm milk."
She sniffled as he took out an old, dented pan. "Can I stay with you?"
she asked her father.
"Sure." He carried her to a chair and sat with her on his lap.
"I woke up, and I couldn't find you."
"I'm right here, Emma." He stroked her hair, studying his father over
her head. "I'll always be here for you."
EVEN THERE, LOU THOUGHT. Even at such a time. He studied the grainy
tabloid pictures of Darren McAvoy's funeral. He'd seen the paper at the
checkout of the supermarket when he'd picked up the whole wheat bread
Marge had sent him out for. Like anything that had to do with the
McAvoys, it had caught his interest, and his sympathy. He'd been more
than a little embarrassed to have bought it, in public, from Sally the
checker.
In the privacy of his own home, he felt even more like a voyeur. For a
few pieces of loose change he, and thousands of others, could witness
the intimacy of grief It was there on all the faces, though they were
bluffed. He could see the little girl, her arm in a cast and sling.
He wondered how much she had seen, how much she would remember. The
doctors he had consulted had all claimed that if she had witnessed
anything, she had blocked it. She could remember tomorrow, five years
from tomorrow, or never.
DEVASTATION ATGRAVESITE
There had been other headlines, dozens of others. Lou already had a
drawerful.
DIDEmMAMcAvoyWffNESSHERBROTHER'S
HoRRiBLEDEATH?
SON'SDEATHROCKSDEvAsTATION
CHILD MURDEREDDUR[NG PARENTS' ORGY
PiTuALKiLLING OFRocKER's BABY:
ARE MANSONF==Rs REsPONsiBLE?
Garbage, Lou thought. It was all garbage. He wondered if Pete Page
managed to shield the McAvoys from the worst of it. Frustrated, he
rested his head in his hands and continued to stare at the picture.
He couldn't pull himself away from the case. He was bringing his work
home with him now, and bringing it home with a vengeance. Files, photos,
notes littered his desk in the corner of Marge's tidy living room.
Though he had good men assigned with him, he doublechecked all their
work. He had personally interviewed everyone on the guest list he'd