What Happened to the Bennetts(15)

I stepped outside onto a small deck, complete with blue canvas director’s chairs around a teak table and a Weber propane grill. Ducks sailed silently past, and I thought I saw a loon but I wasn’t sure.

I went back inside to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to find milk and half-and-half, a six-pack of Diet Coke, and apples and oranges in plastic bags. We had barely eaten yesterday, picking on grapes and apples. The freezer held cans of orange juice concentrate and a plastic bag of Dunkin’ Donuts ground coffee.

“Bingo.” I found the new Mr. Coffee and brewed a pot. I was always the first one up, since morning chores were in my DNA. On a normal Saturday at home, Allison would be upstairs listening to Lady Gaga over the costly whine of the Dyson blow-dryer we’d gotten her for Christmas.

Dad, Mom, this is sick!

It better be, I had said. I cringed inwardly at the memory. Looking back, I hated that I had said that. I was frugal, like my father. We had to be, on a farm, but it had stuck with me. Now I would buy her a million Dysons. I would pay anything.

I found a mug that read nanticoke wildlife area, poured a black coffee, and went back into the living room, where I sat down on the stiff couch, found the remote, and turned on the TV to see if the news was reporting anything about what happened.

I sipped coffee, switching around to find some news. My heart started to pound. I didn’t know if I could watch an account of Allison’s murder, but I had to know. I waited through a traffic report, a weather forecast, and a feature about a baby panda, as well as a report of a trash fire, of a tractor-trailer overturned, of stock prices, of gas prices. Nothing about Allison’s murder or the double homicide.

I heard footsteps on the porch and startled.

We can guarantee your safety if you enter the program.

“Hello?” I rose, nervous.

“Jason, it’s Dom. You up?”

Special Agent Kingston. I remembered we were on a first-name basis.

“Sure,” I called back. I crossed to the door and opened it to find Dom standing there. He had on a white polo shirt and khaki pants, and a shave so fresh there was cream in his ear. He held a bag of groceries, and on his broad shoulder hung a black messenger bag.

“Good morning.” Dom smiled, his teeth nice and even. “I got fresh eggs and produce. I knew I could improve on the oranges.”

“Thanks.” I accepted the bag from him, surprised by his thoughtfulness. “Anything new about Milo? Did you find him?”

“No, I’ll let you know.”

“Do they have any leads? I mean, on top of what I gave them?”

“Not yet.” Dom lingered on the step. “Mind if I come in?”

“Oh, right. No, of course not.” I felt vaguely awkward, I didn’t know how to act. I wondered if he’d check in on us every morning or if we were supposed to become friends. I held open the door. “Come on.”

Dom stepped inside, looking around. “You like the place?”

“Yes, thanks.” I headed for the kitchen, and he fell in stride on the way.

“We tried to take into account that you’re a family. Normally it’s a crappy motel off 95.”

“Thanks.” I set the groceries on the counter. “I guess we’re not the usual . . . whatever you call us.”

“Applicants.” Dom put his messenger bag on a kitchen chair. “Anyway, the investigation into your daughter’s murder is in full swing.”

“How, if you’re here?” I unpacked eggs, big oranges, and romaine lettuce and put them in the fridge.

“Wiki and I aren’t on the investigation team.”

“What team are you on?” I put a block of Cabot cheese and a pack of sliced turkey into the fridge.

“They call us The Babysitters Club.”

“Funny.” I smiled.

“It gets old.” Dom chuckled. “My team gets you through the application process, then hands you off to the U.S. Marshals. They run WITSEC.”

“So who runs the investigation?” I put away apples and grapes, and packets of vanilla Yoplait.

“Agents on the investigative team.”

“I meant their names.”

“Joe Watanabe is the case agent and Matt Reilly is the laboring oar. Reilly briefs me, and I keep you in the loop.” Dom leaned against the counter.

“Can I talk to them directly if I want to?” I put away two-percent milk and a tub of Turkey Hill vanilla.

“Yes. They’ll be talking to you soon, to get any information you may have.”

“But nothing new on Milo?” I pulled out a green pack of cookies and folded the empty grocery bag. “They have so much to go on.”

“This is too soon.”

Maybe he was right but I had barely slept, replaying what had happened. I still couldn’t get Allison’s blood from under my fingernails. I didn’t know if I wanted to. I was half-in and half-out of my own life. My new life. Our new life.

“From now on, if you make a list, I can get whatever you need. Food, supplies, whatever.”

“So we don’t do the shopping?”

“No. Don’t worry, I get Tate’s. Best chocolate chips ever.” Dom smiled slyly, gesturing at the cookies. “They’re good for breakfast, too.”

“Is that a hint?” I opened the bag, releasing a sugary smell. “Want one?”