Free The Kill Zone by David Hagberg

was a kid. Now I hate it.”
    â€œYeah, me too,” McGarvey said.
    â€œYou need a security detail out here around the clock.”
    â€œI’ll think about it,” McGarvey said.
    Yemm nodded glumly. “See you in the morning, then,” he said. He went down to the driveway, got in his Explorer and drove off.
    McGarvey stood at the open door for a bit, feeling the bite of the cold wind and smelling the snow and the smoke whipping around from a half dozen fireplace chimneys in the neighborhood. When it snowed, city kids went out to play, but ranchers’ sons, like he had been, went out to work. Snow meant feeding and watering animals. Blizzards meant staying out until lost cattle were rounded up before they froze to death.
    When he went back inside he locked the door and reset the alarm. He glanced up to the head of the stairs. Kathleen stood there hugging her arms to her chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
    His stomach did a flop, and he hurried upstairs to her. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œShe told me to mind my own business.”
    McGarvey took her into his arms, She was shivering and crying, and she clutched the material of his shirt as if she were trying to rip it off his body.
    â€œYou can’t press her. Remember how she was the last time?”
    â€œBut I’m her mother, I just want to help.”
    â€œI know, but she wants to do this herself. She’s trying to prove that she’s all grown-up now, and not as worried about everything like she was last year.”
    Kathleen looked into his eyes to make sure that he wasn’t patronizing her.
    â€œWhen she gets herself figured out she’ll come back to you for help. Especially when she realizes that Todd and I are hopeless.”
    Kathleen smiled hesitantly. “It’s just me,” she said. “I think that I’m more frightened for the baby than she is.”

    â€œSo am I,” McGarvey admitted. “But it’s their turn, their baby. All we can do is stand by if they need us.”
    She lowered her eyes. “It hurts.”
    â€œIt shouldn’t.”
    â€œBut it does,” she said.
    McGarvey held her close again. “I’ll talk to her,” he promised.
    After a moment Kathleen shook her head. “You’re right, Kirk,” she said. “Elizabeth needs her space. Let her be for the moment.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    â€œYeah,” Kathleen said, and she started to cry again, but this time without any urgency or tension—merely a safety valve for her emotions.
    â€œAre you okay?” he asked after a bit.
    â€œJust a little tired. It was a tough day. Maybe I’ll take a bath.”
    â€œI’m done for the night, too. How about a cup of tea or a glass of wine?”
    â€œSome wine.” She brushed her fingers across his lips. “I do so love you.”
    McGarvey smiled. “I’m glad.”
    She turned and went down the hall to their bedroom, McGarvey went downstairs, rechecked the alarm setting and the front door, then shut off the lights in his study after locking up the DI reports.
    He stood in the dark for a few minutes listening again, as he had been doing for the past several days, for something—the sounds of the house, the sounds of the wind, the sounds of his own heart, the sounds that the gavel would make tomorrow.
    â€œFuck it,” he said. He went back to the kitchen, where he checked the patio doors. He opened a bottle of pinot grigio from the cooler, got a couple of glasses and went upstairs.
    The big tub on a raised step was only one-third full and the water was still running, but Kathleen had already disrobed and gotten in. She was lying back, her eyes closed, a look of contentment on her finely defined oval face.
    McGarvey sat down on the toilet lid, careful not to clink the glasses or make any noise to disturb her, but she opened her eyes and smiled at him.
    â€œIf you only knew how good this