Free Brooklyn Bones by Triss Stein

fishing or a gambling excursion to Atlantic City. And I didn’t have time to think about it after a couple of tries. I knew he’d get back to me.
    Oh, yes, and I had a fight with Joe. I meant to give him a heads up that the police would be asking him some questions about security when he was working at my house, but they got to him first. He was more than a little ticked off about this and told me so by phone at seven a.m. I had an uncomfortable feeling he was right, too, so of course I came back with a strong “I really don’t have time to deal with this!” and hung up.
    There was no work on my house scheduled that day, and I did not have a moment to think it over until very late that night. I reached for the phone to apologize to Joe, stopped myself, thought it over and did it again, sucking in my breath as I punched the buttons. He wasn’t there. I wasn’t about to leave a message for anyone who came in with him to hear. His phone would record that I had called.

Chapter Seven
    Camp departure day. The sounds of Chris opening and closing drawers. I squinted at the clock—five a.m. Like any teen, she normally had to be dragged out of bed for lunch. Today she was up so early I wondered if she had gone to bed at all.
    By nine, we were cramming her bags into Mel’s parents’ overstuffed car trunk and heading out to the bus meeting place in New Jersey. Joan had made the trip many times before, with all three of her children. Every once in awhile she’d turn from the front seat to me and say, “Don’t worry. It will be fine.” Did the knots in my stomach show in my face? Or was she reading my mind?
    The scene at the vast mall parking lot was one of barely controlled chaos, with parents parking and unloading, small children running around, teenagers screaming in the bliss of reunion with last summer’s friends, and counselors with clipboards shouting for attention. Somehow, with Joan’s crisp direction, we got the gear unloaded and stacked in the correct pile. Mel, doing her share of screaming, took Chris off to make introductions, and I watched my daughter’s expression change slowly from apprehension to wide-eyed excitement. I was surprised, relieved, exhausted, anxious to leave, anxious to grab her for a big, embarrassing hug. Exhausted.
    Before the bus boarding started, she came back and pulled me aside, whispering, “Don’t forget what you promised. About our girl.”
    “I did not promise. In fact…”
    She cut in. “I’m counting on you. I know you won’t let me down.” I knew where she’d learned to say that manipulative, guilt-inducing phrase. My own words over the years were coming back to haunt me. What nerve.
    One last hug and then she was gone, on the bus and on her way. I slept all the way back to Brooklyn and Joan had to wake me when we reached my house.
    Though it had been a few days since that frightening note, and nothing else had happened, I still paused at the front door, looking it over to make sure it was just as I had left it, locked and untouched.
    The house was empty, not the delicious, all-to-myself emptiness of coming home to find Chris temporarily out, but the complete emptiness of too many rooms that suddenly seemed too big even in my small house. It took me by surprise, that disorienting feeling, tripping me up like a cat around my ankles. I could not remember how to be in my life without Chris.
    I wandered around. I put the breakfast dishes away. I fiddled with the old air conditioner. I noted that the work in the kitchen was progressing, even though I had not seen Joe in several days. I guessed he was still mad at me. I would need to do something about that, but not today.
    Come to think of it, I still hadn’t heard from Rick either. Sometimes his in loco parentis behavior annoyed me, but it wasn’t like him to be out of touch for so many days.
    Where was everyone? I needed to hear another human being. The Pastores next door had gone to the shore with their son. Mel’s