“You certain?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped as he pushed his uneaten breakfast aside.
His mother’s eyes flickered between him, the television, and the kitchen clock. A frown creased into her brow. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the law faculty thing this morning?”
Without answering, he got up and hurriedly left the kitchen, almost bumping into his father on his way out. As his dad entered the kitchen behind him, briefcase in hand, Jayden heard his dad say, “I don’t know why that kid still lives with us. He’s going to be thirty in two years, for heaven’s sake.”
Jayden stilled, eavesdropping as his parents discussed him.
“Because he can focus on his law degree without worrying about looking after his own place and buying and cooking his own food,” his mother said.
“He’s too soft and simple to be a lawyer. Too ... I don’t know—he should’ve been a social worker or artist or something. Don’t know where that kid came from. Not yours or mine by temperament.”
“A law degree will help him, Ray, as will his anthropology degree.”
Jayden heard the television come back on. The anchor was still talking about the Cemetery Girl and an unidentified body found floating in the Gorge.
He began to shake as fear noosed around him.
“Anything new on those cases?” his dad said, obviously watching the news.
“MVPD is holding a press conference this morning,” said his mom. “They’ve identified both victims and are keeping my office looped in. This thing is going to spiral out of control unless the MVPD gets a handle on it and tamps down the budding hysteria.” A pause, the sound of crockery going into the dishwasher. “I have a meeting tonight.” His mother’s voice. “Will you be home for dinner?”
“Got a late business thing for the new development on the waterfront. Probably be back around ten.” Another pause. The sound of his father clicking his briefcase shut. “Have a good day—see you later.”
Jayden quickly ducked around the corner. He heard his father’s footfall on stone tiles, the thud of the front door. He hurried along the passageway to his suite in the west wing of his parents’ house, which was far too big for just the three of them.
Once inside his suite, Jayden stood at his window, watching his father’s bronze Jaguar wind down the driveway as he made his call.
It was answered in three rings.
“So, you heard—you saw the news?” came the voice.
It was enough to undo Jayden. His shakes turned into great big palsied shudders, and sweat began to dampen his body. In an effort to steady himself, he dragged his hand up over his brow and pressed his palm down hard on the top of his head, as if he could somehow bottle it all back down, as if he could make this all go away as long as he could just keep it inside his skull. “What ... what happened to Gracie?How?” he managed to say.
“How the fuck doIknow what happened?”
Jayden swallowed, and his voice cracked. “And the body in the Gorge—who’s that?”
There was a beat of silence. “Jeezus, Jay, how in the hell would I know? C’mon, what’s going on with you?”
“I ... I’m just wondering if this is ... connected. I mean with—”
“Listen to me. This has got nothing to do with us. Neither of these deaths do.”
“What’re we going to do?”
“Nothing, Jayden, nothing. I told you this hasnothingto do with us.”
“But on the back of—”
“Are you hearing me? It’snotlinked. Understand?”
“What if the cops come looking?”
“Whywouldthey?”
“I was going to be with Gracie. I ... I ... I was going to help her. When she had enough. We had plans to—”
