Right. Police. Conrad. Explanations that did not include the sentenceI am a vampire and your children have formed a protective pact around me.
“I’ll call the police,” I said.
“And Dad?” Bianca asked.
My stomach tightened.
“Yes,” I said, looking down at my burned hands before reaching for the phone. “And Conrad.”
17
CONRAD
It had been a week since the break-in, and I still couldn’t walk past the foyer without seeing things that weren’t there anymore.
The scratches by the door had been repaired. The damaged kitchen cabinet had been replaced. The police had come and gone. The security company had spent two full days installing enough sensors, cameras, and alarms to make the house feel less like a home and more like a penitentiary.
None of that changed the fact that two men had gotten inside my home. That was the thought I couldn’t shake.
Sometimes I had visions of the broken drawers and the house in full disarray, not to mention the interview with the police and filing the report. There was an ugly awareness that our home had been violated. Thank God the kids hadn’t been home.
The most disturbing part of the whole ordeal was the knowledge that Winnie had been the one between them and danger. Winnie, who had stood in my kitchen, pale and exhausted as the police questioned her for half the night.
I’d hovered uselessly for most of it, answering what I could, signing what needed signing, trying not to stare at the faint tremor in her hands when she thought no one was watching. The officers had asked her how she overpowered two grown men, and she’d said, calmly, that she’d studied self-defense for many years.
Many years.
That was Winnie’s answer to all the strange things about her.
Where did you learn to cook like that? Many years of practice.
How do you know so much about antique medicine? Many years of reading.
How did you take down two men without a weapon? Many years of self-defense.
It should’ve made me ask more questions about the woman I’d entrusted my children with, but I was too grateful that she was alive, that she was willing to risk her life for my children.
I was back at work now, pretending I could focus on balance sheets while my phone sat beside my keyboard with the new security app open. Every so often, I refreshed the camera feed even though Winnie had texted that morning to say all was well.
Her texts had become less formal recently. They were still properly punctuated, because she was Winnie, but they were warmer.
Winnie:All is well. Billie is attempting to classify cereal by level of crunchiness. CJ says Raisin Bran is “semi-crunchy due to the rat excrement.” Don’t worry, he was just joking about the raisins. Bianca refuses to get involved.
I’d read it three times before answering.
Me:Tell CJ I refuse to eat Raisin Bran now.
Winnie:Coward.
I was still smiling at my phone when my office door opened.
“Lawrence,” Martin Hawk said, stepping inside without knocking, because knocking was for people who believed other humans existed independently of their needs. “Got a minute?”
I closed the security app quickly. “Sure.”
Martin was my boss’s boss, which meant every conversation with him was wrapped in opportunity, pressure, and the subtle implication that your personal life was a hobby you should have outgrown in favor of our firm.
He dropped into the chair across from my desk and tossed a folder onto the corner. “We’re building a bonus team for the Carver project,” he said. “High visibility. It’s an ugly timeline, but it’s good money.”
