I got out of bed, slipped into a T-shirt and gym shorts, remembering to disable the alarm. I left the bedroom, and on the other side of a center hall were two more bedrooms, one large and one small. The little one was less desirable, but Ethan had taken it, perhaps by habit. If Allison had been here, she would have bounded into the bigger room and staked her claim with a huge grin.
I peeked into Ethan’s room to find him asleep in his clothes, cuddled with Moonie. He looked lost in the queen-size bed, which had a pine headboard. Otherwise the room held a pine dresser and a desk-and-chair combination. I remembered we had bought a desk for Allison, the mistake of rookie parents.
Dad, please take this stupid desk out of my room.
You’re supposed to do your homework there. Develop good study habits.
Okay, boomer.
I closed the door and padded downstairs to the living room, which was furnished with a beige couch and matching chairs around a white coffee table. Against the wall was a white entertainment center with a flat-screen TV. I tried to imagine us living here. A nice house, but not ours. A house holding its breath for a household. I didn’t know if we could make it one without Allison. I didn’t know if I wanted to try.
I crossed the room, unlocked the dead bolt on the front door, and opened it wide, breathing in the marshy air. Out front was the driveway, and trees and brush hid the house from the street. The FBI van was parked with its back to the house. It had a Delaware plate, not a government one.
I went to the kitchen in the back, which was a long rectangle edged with builders-grade appliances and oak cabinets, white Corian countertops, and a double sink. Beyond was the laundry room, powder room, and a back door, which I opened.
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?”
“No, I want two.”
Dom accepted the cookies eagerly, reminding me of Allison.
She’ll eat you out of house and home, my father used to say.
I took a bite of the cookie, which tasted buttery and delicious. “Wow.”