Killman Creek (Stillhouse Lake #2)(64)

Mom draws in a sharp breath and puts a hand on her stomach, like I’ve stabbed her there. Her lips form my name, but she doesn’t say it out loud. Maybe she can’t.

Kezia says, “Lanny’s right. Go. Don’t come back until this is over.”

“I swear to you, I’m going to protect these kids like they’re my own,” Javier adds. “I’m going to protect them from every kind of threat, and right now, that includes you. Get me?”

Mom’s eyes fill up with tears, but she doesn’t cry. She says, “That’s all I want.”

And then she looks at us, and I can tell she wants to come to us, hug us, cry. I can feel her need to do that shivering in the air around her, like thunder.

I can feel my whole body craving it, too, because bodies are stupid; they just want to be loved. But I’m better than that. I’m stronger. Mom taught me to be stronger, and I am. No matter how much it hurts, I just stare at her and will her to go away.

And Mom leaves.

She leaves.

I wait for her to look back, but she doesn’t. The door shuts behind her. Even though I wanted her to go, demanded it, the fact that she did it still feels like she betrayed us all over again. My stomach hurts. My chest feels tight. Nothing’s good anymore, nothing in the whole world.

I keep my arm around Connor, holding him close. He usually squirms away when I do that, but not now. My hug is telling him, I’m here, I’m with you, I’m not letting go of you.

It’s saying, I’m not like her.

We’re all quiet for a while. I guess Sam was waiting outside, because we hear the engine start, and the gravel crunch, and when it’s gone, Kezia lets out a deep, gusting sigh and says, “Damn. I’m sorry. That was rough. You kids okay?”

I nod. Connor doesn’t do anything. He’s staring down at the floor, wearing that mask he gets when he’s just too overwhelmed to feel anything at all. I don’t know what this is going to do to him, but I know it can’t be good. Kezia turns to Javier, and though she says it quietly, I hear her anyway. “I can’t leave now. I’ll call Prester.”

“You can’t keep tap-dancing around him on this,” he says. “Kez, he already checked in here, trying to figure out what was making you and me take so much time off work. He’s either worried about you, or suspicious. Neither one’s good. You haven’t been a detective long enough to get a free pass. Go to work.”

She gazes at him for a long moment, then shakes her head. “No, I have a better idea.”

“Kez. Querida.”

“I’m serious.”

Javier shakes his head, but he doesn’t say no when she pulls out her phone and dials. I watch her numbly as she walks back and forth. My anger’s gone now. It’s like it left with Mom, and all I have left is a chilly, empty space where my guts should be. I sink down on the couch and pull the heavy knitted afghan from the back to wrap around my shoulders, because I’m shivering now.

Kezia says, “Prester? I need to tell you something. And I’m thinking maybe you should come here to Javier’s house to hear all of it.”



Detective Prester is an old man, so old I’m surprised he’s not retired, but he’s still smart. You can see it the second he looks at you.

He takes everything in with one long glance, including the two of us on the couch. We haven’t been told to go and hide this time, and I’m not sure we would have, anyway. “Well, damn,” he says, then closes the door behind him. “Guess that answers my questions about the kids. Where is Gwen?”

“Not here,” Kezia says. “Have a seat.”

Prester does, at the kitchen table. Javier’s made coffee, and he pours three cups and sits in the third spot. Prester accepts and sips, but he keeps looking over at the two of us. I wonder what he sees. Little orphan children, I think, and I hate that. But it’s true. We’re alone now. Mom isn’t coming back, and even if she did, I wouldn’t go with her. I can take care of myself, but what about Connor? He’s not old enough. He needs help. I’m smart enough to know they won’t let me be his Mom standin.

We need help.

For the first time, the size of what happened hits me, and I feel the wobbly burn of tears in my throat and my eyes. I look over at Connor. He’s staring at his book again, but he hasn’t turned the page in minutes. He’s not reading. He’s hiding. He’s good at that.

I envy that right now, because I don’t know what to do.

“Gwen and Sam—” Kezia begins, but Prester holds up a hand. It trembles a little.

“No, Claremont. I been doing this awhile now. I think I can solve this little mystery. Gwen and Sam went running off on their own investigation. They figured the kids would be safer here, with you. How am I doing so far?”

“You’re on it.”

“And from the look on all these faces, something’s gone pretty wrong,” he says. “Pretty damn wrong. They missing?”

“No,” Javier says. “But things are getting complicated. I didn’t want you thinking Kezia isn’t a good cop, or we’ve got some family trouble, or something. This isn’t that.”

“Looks exactly like family trouble to me,” Prester says. “Just not your own.”

As an answer, Javier powers up his tablet and hands it over. Prester watches the video, and I can’t tell if it affects him at all. He just nods and hands it back. “You believe it?”