remember everything exactly, but the cops came. I must have been in a
pretty bad way because they took me to the hospital and figured things
out quick enough. I ended up in the system, might have stayed there. But
the doctor who treated me was Stella Quinn."
"They took you."
"They took me." And saying that, just that, soothed the sickness in
Ethan's gut. "They didn't just change my life, they saved it. I had the
dreams for a long time after, the sweaty ones where you wake up trying
to breathe, sure you're back in it. And even when you realize you're
not, you're cold for a while."
Seth knuckled the tears away, but he didn't feel ashamed of them now. "I
always got away. Sometimes they put their hands on me, but I got away.
None of them evera"
"Good for you."
"I still wanted to kill them, and her. I wanted to."
"I know."
"I didn't want to tell anybody. I think Ray knew, and
Cam sort of knows. I didn't want anybody to think Ia to look at me and
thinka" He couldn't express it, the shame of having anyone look at him
and see what had happened, and what could have happened, in those dark,
smelly rooms. "Why did you tell me?"
"Because you need to know it doesn't make you less of a man." Ethan
waited, knowing that Seth would decide whether he accepted the truth of
that.
What Seth saw was a man, tall, strong, self-possessed, with big,
callused hands and quiet eyes. One of the weights that hung on his heart
lifted. "I guess I do." And he smiled a little. "Your mouth's bleeding."
Ethan dabbed at it with the back of his hand and knew they'd crossed a
thin and shaky line. "You got a good right jab. I never saw it coming."
He held out a hand, testing, and ruffled Seth's sleep-tumbled hair. The
boy's smile stayed in place. "Let's clean up," Ethan said, "and go
home."
Chapter Five
grace had a morning full of chores. The first load of laundry went in at
seven-fifteen while the coffee was brewing and her eyes were still
mostly shut. She watered her porch plants and the little pots of herbs
on her kitchen windowsill, and yawned hugely.
As the coffee began to scent the air and give her hope, she washed the
glasses and bowls Julie had used the night before while baby-sitting.
She closed the open bag of potato chips, tucked it into its place in the
cupboard, then wiped the crumbs from the counter where Julie had had her
snack while talking on the phone.
Julie Cutter wasn't known for her neatness, but she loved Aubrey.
At precisely seven-thirty--and after half a cup of coffee--Aubrey woke.
Reliable as the sunrise, Grace thought, heading out of the tiny galley
kitchen toward the bedroom off the living room. Rain or shine, weekday
or weekend, Aubrey's internal clock buzzed away at seven-thirty every
morning.
Grace could have left her in the crib and finished her coffee, but she