Free All the Things You Are by Declan Hughes

town,’ Nora says, deciding they’ve probably got enough. She is pretty sure Claire has had no idea what has been going on, money-wise.
    â€˜I’m sorry. I know it sounds like something from the Olden Days, but Danny takes care of the money side.’
    Rich bitches
, Nora thinks by reflex,
skinny rich bitches don’t know they’re born
. On the other hand, likeliest scenario is, the husband’s gone off the deep end and the kids are in danger. If they’re not dead already. And all the money is long gone. Have to feel sorry for her. Nora stands up.
    â€˜As I say, Ms Taylor, it’s the kids we’re most concerned about.’
    Nora nods to Ken, who clears his throat.
    â€˜In order for us to get moving on a search for your children, we need you to come downtown with us and file a missing person’s report, Ms Taylor. That way, we can notify our Dane County colleagues, state police and the federal authorities, and make the best start in trying to track them down. If necessary, issue an Amber Alert.’
    Nora Fox is waiting for Claire to respond when Officer Colby appears in the doorway with a large plastic evidence bag. She walks across to him, and he holds the bag out for her to examine; inside, there is a large knife, its blade stained black and red.
    â€˜Murder weapon?’ she says.
    â€˜Looks like.’
    â€˜Sabatier. That’s a pricey knife.’
    â€˜European?’
    â€˜Sounds like. Open it up so we can all have a look.’
    Colby is wearing protective white paper gloves. He opens the bag and lifts out a knife and holds it out. Claire Taylor makes a sound in her chest, somewhere between a sigh and a gasp. And begins to shake.
    â€˜Your husband like to cook, Claire?’ Detective Fox says. ‘Sure he does: Brogan’s Bar and Grill, known for its meat. And you had a barbecue here a week ago, he would have cooked at that for sure – barbecue is a man’s job. So we’d like to know if you think there’s any chance this might be his knife?’

Ralph’s Book

1976
    W hat happened was the Bradberrys were a family had a whole bunch of stories told about them, stories Danny Brogan had heard even before he got to Jefferson Junior High and was put sitting next to Jackie. Nowadays, people would describe their domestic situation as chaotic, and you’d hope they’d be the subject of assorted child protection investigations and have caseworkers on their backs all the time, although given the stories you read almost every day about this murderer and that abuser with precisely the same kind of background, you might be hoping in vain, but in any case, thirty years ago, they seemed to fly under the radar, maybe because they once had money, or the remnants of it. The father was a doctor, and used to be a good one, long as you caught him before lunchtime, but he had been struck off for malpractice (people said he’d misjudged a prescription and killed a man), and the mother was lace-curtain Irish from Chicago, Lincoln Park, with notions about how much she had sacrificed for the man she referred to as a country physician. Maybe she had, although when Danny saw her, whatever looks she might have thought she had were long gone. Maybe it was the drink, because it wasn’t just him, she drank too. A family can just about survive one drunk parent, as Danny well knew; much harder to get past two, especially when the mother seemed to be drinking to spite the father, and all the kids got caught in the crossfire.
    Anyway, there was a Bradberry in every class, and everyone knew they were trouble. One of the elder Bradberrys had been in juvie in Racine for some kind of assault, Danny heard it was rape, back when you were eight and rape was a word like sex or breasts, and you knew it was wrong but it was kind of exciting too, because you didn’t have a clue what it really meant. All the Bradberrys were kind of unkempt, bordering on smelly, and