Free Black Out by Lisa Unger Page A

“That’s right. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t be here at all except that there’s been a rash of break-ins over the last few weeks. Usually the uniformed officers would have come to take a report.”
    “That’s great,” says Ella. “That’s just great.” She has the sense of entitlement that pampered, wealthy people have, but not in that awful way. Just naïve. “How is she supposed to sleep at night?”
    I look at her. I want to tell her I haven’t slept in years.
    “This house has a good security system,” he says. “Keep the doors locked, and you might think about getting a dog.”
    “A dog?” says Ella. “
That’s
your advice?”
    I give the cop an apologetic look.
    Drew stays silent. Vivian walks over and sits beside me, rests a hand on my leg. I examine her face for signs of judgment and disapproval. But I just see compassion and worry. And the shade of something else I can’t quite put my finger on.
    “Mrs. Powers,” says the cop. Everyone’s looking at me. He has asked me something that, lost in thought, I didn’t hear. “Are you sure?”
    “I’m sorry,” I say, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my free hand. “Sure of what?”
    He lets a beat pass. “That you have no idea who might have reason to follow you.”
    “Yes, of course,” I say.
    His expression tells me he doesn’t believe me. He has picked up on something; he glances over at Drew, then back at me. I feel my shoulders go stiff at the tension in the room.
    “All right,” says Ella, rising. “She said she’s sure. If there’s nothing else you can do, you might as well just go and let her get some rest.”
    I focus on Victory, who has somehow, in spite of all the talking, drifted fully asleep in my arms. I listen to her deep, restful breathing.
    He places a card on the coffee table, throws another glance at Drew. “If you need anything tonight, Mrs. Powers, give me a call. I’m on all night.”
    “Thanks,” I say. “You’ve been a big help. Really.”
    He looks at me uncertainly. If I sound sarcastic, I don’t mean to.
     
    After the police have left, I put my daughter in her bed and convince Ella to go home.
    “Did you call Gray?” Ella asks as we stand on my front porch, waiting for her husband to pick her up.
    “Yes,” I lie.
    “Is he coming home?”
    “He says he’ll try,” I say with a shrug.
    She doesn’t seem to like my answer but reserves comment. She takes me in her arms and holds me tight. “Anything? You call. I mean it. Anything.”
    “I will,” I promise.
    I watch her glide down the stairs as her husband pulls up. He gives a wave from the street but doesn’t get out of the car; he always holds himself aloof, gives me odd looks. He doesn’t seem to like me very much, and I’m not sure why. Maybe he senses that I hold most of myself back, too. Maybe it makes me seem untrustworthy. As much as I try to blend in, I guess I don’t.
     
    I can’t convince Drew to leave. Vivian is going home, and he intends to sleep on the couch until morning. He couldn’t care less about me; it’s Victory he’s worried about. I’m sure they’d try to take her home with them if they thought I’d let them.
    “It’s not necessary, Drew.” I might as well be talking to a gargoyle.
    “It’s his pleasure,” says Vivian, pulling her bag over her shoulder. “Give the old watchdog something to do. Unless you, Victory, and Esperanza want to come home with us?”
    “No. We’re okay,” I say. She pulls me into a hug.
    “Don’t let Drew get to you,” she whispers. “He does care about you, in spite of how it seems. More than you know.”
    I nod and wonder what good that kind of caring is to anyone. She leaves, and I stand at the door with my hand on the knob for a second. I feel Drew’s eyes on me.
    “This could be a shitstorm.”
    I turn to face him. From where he’s standing, I can just see the dark bulk of him, not the features of his face.
    “Was it him, Drew?” I ask. The house sighs as the