It’s a departure from her usual, but I keep my face impassive. The last thing she needs is to feel like I care, because I don’t. No matter how she wears her hair or chooses to dress or spends her free time, she’s still my amazing kid. As long as her mental health is aiming for the boards, I’m good.
“Does the bow look okay?” She settles onto the stool. “It’s not crooked, right?”
“Nope.”
On the way to the high school, Greta gives me a sheepish glance. “Meg left me a message. I didn’t get it until this morning. She was in some Podunk town and the internet was bad and…” She shrugs. “She wished me luck today.”
I study her face for a second, but the hurt from last night is gone. Or it’s underneath the anxiety about this tryout. “How’s that feel?”
“Like maybe I like her too much.” She steals a glance at me. “Like maybe I like her withyoutoo much.”
I use the turn into the high school to unscramble my words, but Greta jumps down and hurries into the gym before I can formulate a reply.
Too muchrattles around in my mind. Underneath that sentiment is fear. Like my daughter is afraid to start liking someone in my life who may not stick around.
Fuck.
When I return home to start packing for our climbing trip, Annaleise Bell is standing next to a black Honda Element in my driveway.
“You blocked my number,” she says when I step down from my truck.
Ignoring her, I unlock my gear shed, hoping she’ll get the hint, but she follows me to the side of the driveway.
“You and your brother escaped from the same cult that Trina did.”
From the top shelf I grab the folded-up tarp, then spread it over a section of the driveway.
“That fire was no accident,” she continues. “Someone wanted her dead.”
I go back to the bins and search for the ones with the hardware.
“This morning, someone threw a rock through my office window.”
I spin around. “What?”
She crosses her arms. “Was it you?”
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
“I think someone doesn’t want me finding out the truth about what happened to Trina.”
“And the logical suspect is me?” I scoff. “Did you call the police?”
“Yeah.”
“Were you hurt?”
She shakes her head. “Someone at the party caught you and Trina on video. Looks like it got pretty heated.”
I carry the quickdraw bin to the tarp and open the flaps, then unfold the list I made from my pocket. Once I have the climbing gear ready, I’ll move onto the minimalist camping gear for our bivvy.
“Tell me what you talked about, and I won’t post the video.”
The only sound is the click of carabiners and the rustle of the tarp beneath my knees.
“You never filed any charges against Sons of Eden. Why?”
From the first bin, I lift out the rope and flake it onto the tarp.
