Free Depth Perception by Linda Castillo

played a role, too."
    "He was in your care."
    "If you hadn't been in prison, he never would have died! You had as much a hand in his death as I did. So don't stand there and judge me!"
    Nick's temper snapped with the violence of a gunshot. One moment he was standing a few feet from the bar, the next he was leaning over it with his hands around her biceps. "You let a little child run wild in the swamp unsupervised!"
    For a moment, she looked startled. She opened her mouth. Blinked several times as if trying to bring him into focus. Then her lips peeled back. "You son of a bitch!" she snarled. An instant later she drew back and threw her drink in his face.
    Nick jolted with the shock of cold. He tasted rum and fury, felt the bum of alcohol in his eyes, and for the first time in his life he wanted to do physical harm to a woman.
    "I didn't know he could unlock the door!" she cried. "He was so smart! I swear! He opened two locks. Two, for God's sake! He'd never done it before! He wasn't supposed to do that!"
    "You were passed out from being drunk the night before!"
    A sound that was half sob, half scream tore from her throat. "You bastard!" She launched herself at him. The first blow caught his left temple, hard enough to snap his head back. Another grazed off his shoulder. Nick staggered back, but she held onto him, and he dragged her halfway over the bar. "Get off me," he growled.
    "I wasn't drunk!" she screamed. "I swear to God I wasn't!"
    A big woman in leather pants tried to pull her back, but Tanya fought her like a wildcat. She was lying across the bar, holding onto Nick's sleeve with one hand, hitting him with the other. "It wasn't my fault!" she cried. "He died because you weren't there, you motherfucker!"
    Nick disengaged himself from her and stumbled back. Vaguely he was aware of the throng of people that had gathered around the bar. He jolted when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He turned, ready to defend himself. and was relieved to see Mike Pequinot come up beside him. "Why don't you go out back and have a smoke?"
    Nick barely beard the words over the jackhammer rhythm of his heart. He could feel his control peeling away. He looked across the bar at the woman he'd once loved. The woman who'd borne his only child. The woman who'd ripped that child from his arms and then let him die like an animal . . .
    The urge to put his fist through something was strong, but he held on to his control. “Keep her away from me." Shaking with rage, he tossed the towel onto the bar and started for the door to the kitchen.
    "You had no right to say those things to me!" Tanya screamed to his back. "He was my baby, too! Goddamn you! I loved him! It was an accident! You can't blame me for what happened!"
    Nick didn't look back. He was too furious. He wasn't sure what he would say to her. He wasn't sure what he would do if she pushed him any farther.
    He hit the swinging doors with both hands. They flew open and banged hard against the walls. Pequinot's wife looked up from the steaming pot she was stirring, but she was an astute enough woman to realize he couldn't be talked down.
    Nick didn't stop until he reached the back door. He shoved it open hard and stepped into the sultry night. He could still hear the drum of the music beating in time with his heart. He could still feel the rage flowing through him in a swift and dangerous current. He was keenly aware of the ugliness of the emotions inside him. Hatred and grief and a rage that never seemed to leave him no matter how hard he tried to exorcise it.
    He sat down hard on the step and put his face in his hands.  Of all the terrible things he had endured in the last six years, losing his son was the one that had gutted him. The day they'd taken him into an interview room and told him his innocent little boy had drowned, something inside Nick had died. A piece of his humanity. A chunk of his heart. It was as if a giant hand had plunged into his body and torn out his soul.
    At least