Free Straw Men by Martin J Smith

road.”
    â€œShe’s not my mom,” Annie said. She pressed her nose against the car’s rear window and sang, “Beans, beans, are good for your heart—” until the dog’s low growl backed her off.
    â€œAnnie,” Christensen said. “Inside. Now.”
    Taylor was already clinging to the jacket hem of Brenna’s Jil Sander suit as Jim and Annie climbed the stairs.
    â€œI’d like both kids upstairs,” Jim said, his eyes fixed on Brenna’s. “Let’s get the homework started. Dinner’ll be maybe forty minutes, and the grown-ups need to talk.”
    â€œWhat are we having?” Annie asked.
    Jim held up the plastic bags. “Tacos!” he said.
    â€œOoh, there’s a new one,” Annie said.
    â€œFirst time this week,” he protested. “You guys love tacos.”
    â€œI like tacos,” Taylor agreed.
    Annie withered the boy with a glare, then trained it on her father. “Remember, no cheese.”
    They watched the kids haul their backpacks up the stairs. Jim sighed. “When did Patty Hearst move in?”
    â€œShe’s pretty angry these days.”
    â€œIs it me? Her dominatrix-in-pigtails thing used to be charming, right? Now it’s, I don’t know, bitter.”
    â€œShe misses her mom,” Brenna said.
    Jim’s face fell. “Why? She said something?”
    Brenna shook her head. “I found Silkie two nights ago, under her pillow.”
    â€œMolly’s old nightgown? She hasn’t asked about it for, what? Almost a year?”
    Brenna shrugged. “You know, for somebody who’s supposed to understand people, you can be pretty dense. Maybe it’s a guy thing. Think what time of year it is.”
    She knew as soon as she said it that she’d connected.
    â€œOh God,” he said. “The sixth anniversary of Molly’s accident. First time I forgot.”
    â€œThat’s not a bad thing, you know,” Brenna said. “You’re healing.”
    â€œBut Annie remembered?”
    â€œMelissa mentioned it when she called from Penn State last weekend. Annie must have dug Silkie out of her closet after talking to her big sister.”
    Jim stood there, a tightening knot of guilt. “I’ll talk to her tonight.” He leaned forward and tried an awkward hug. His briefcase and the grocery bags bounced against Brenna’s back and shoulders. “Thanks.”
    The cop started his cruiser, and they both turned. Officer Plantes waved brightly, then eased the black-and-white out onto Howe Street. They watched the car turn the corner onto South Aiken and disappear. Jim turned back to her.
    â€œMind filling me in?”

Chapter 10
    The streetlight outside their second-floor bedroom was broken, its lens and bulb shattered. Glass shards sparkled like diamonds on the street below each time an oncoming car’s headlights swept across the debris. Christensen stared down at the glimmering pool of glass, then at the cars lining both sides of the street. He was a man on the edge of darkness.
    â€œClose that, would you?” Brenna said as she stepped from the bathroom.
    He watched her reflection in the window. She wore only a towel, which she unfastened as she crossed the room. It fell to the floor in midstride, and he hesitated before twirling the miniblind rod. When he turned around she was naked, but he found no joy in it.
    â€œYou don’t usually care, open or closed,” he said.
    â€œNot usually.”
    He studied her face for implication. “The call, you mean?”
    Brenna shrugged. “It’s probably nothing. I told you that.”
    â€œCrank caller, you said.” Christensen thought about the similar call that had so rattled Teresa. He wanted desperately to tell Brenna, but couldn’t.
    â€œRight,” she said.
    â€œAnd you wanted the cops to know about it.”
    â€œI wanted it noted. Why take chances? Plus, I wanted to make