The Bodies Left Behind

told me that.”
    She fell silent. Then said, “I didn’t want word to get around. I pulled some strings. It wasn’t all on the up-and-up. But I had to do it. I wanted to protect him.”
    “He’s not going to break, Brynn. You spoil him. His bedroom looks like a Best Buy.”
    “I pay for everything I bought him myself.” She instantly regretted the barbed words, seeing the grimace on Graham’s face. This had nothing to do with money, of course.
    “I don’t think it’s good for him, all that indulgence. You don’t have to be mean. But have to say no sometimes. And punish him if he doesn’t listen to you.”
    “I do.”
    “No, you don’t. It’s like you owe him, like you’re guilty about something and paying back this debt. What’s it all about, Brynn?”
    “You’re making it into something more than it is. Way more.” She gave a faint laugh, though she felt her heart chill—the way her skin had when the cold, black water rushed into her car at Lake Mondac. “His fight at school . . . it was just something between Joey and me.”
    “Oh, Brynn, that’s the problem. See? That’s what this is all about. It’s never been ‘us.’ It’s always you and Joey. I’m along for the ride.”
    “That’s not true.”
    “Isn’t it? What’s this all about?” He waved his hand around the house. “Is it about us, the three of us, a family? Or is it about you? You and your son?”
    “It’s about us, Graham, really.” She tried holding his eye but couldn’t.
    No lies between us, Brynn  . . .
    But that was Hart. And it was Keith. . . . Graham was different. This is so wrong, she thought, being honestwith bad men, while the good ones get lied to and neglected.
    He stretched. She noticed that both their beers were exactly three-quarters full. He said, “Forget it. Let’s go to bed. We need sleep.”
    She asked, “When?”
    “When what?”
    “Are you leaving?”
    “Brynn. This is enough for tonight.” A laugh. “We never talk, not about anything serious. And now we can’t stop. Tonight of all nights. We’re exhausted. Let’s just get some rest.”
    “When?” she repeated.
    He rubbed his eyes, first one, then both. He lowered his hands, looked at a deep scratch inflicted at some point last night in the woods. A tear in the skin from a thorn or rock. He seemed surprised. He said, “I don’t know. A month. A week. I don’t know.”
    She sighed. “I’ve seen it coming.”
    He looked perplexed. “Seen it coming? How? I didn’t know it till last night.”
    What did he mean by that? She asked, “Who is she?”
    “‘She’?”
    “You know who. That woman you’re seeing.”
    “I’m not seeing anybody.” He sounded put out, as if she’d delivered a cheap insult.
    She debated but kept to the course. She said harshly, “JJ’s poker games. Sometimes you go. Sometimes you don’t.”
    “You’ve been spying on me.”
    “You lied to me. I could tell. I do this for a living, remember?”
    He’s no good at deception.
    Unlike me.
    Anger now. But more troubling, he sounded disgusted. “What’d you do? Put a bug in the car? Have somebody from the department tail me?”
    “I saw you once. By coincidence. Outside the motel on Albemarle. And, yeah, I followed you later. You said you were going to the game. But you went there again . . .” She snapped, “Why are you laughing? It broke my heart, Graham!”
    “To break somebody’s heart, you need to own a bit of it. And I don’t. I don’t have an ounce of yours. I don’t think I ever did.”
    “That’s not true! There’s no excuse for cheating.”
    He was nodding slowly. “Cheating, ah . . . Did you ask me about it? Did you sit down and say, ‘Honey, we have a problem, I’m concerned, let’s talk about it? Get it worked out’?”
    “I—”
    “You know your mother told me about what Keith did. To your face. You know my first reaction? Oh, my God, that explains so much. How could I be mad at you? But then I realized that, hell, yes, I could be mad. I should be mad. And you should have told me. I deserved to be told.”
    Brynn had considered telling him a hundred times. Yet she’d made up a bullshit story about a car crash. She thought now: But how could I tell him? That somebody flew into a rage and hit me. That I cried off and on formonths afterward. That I cringed at the sound of his voice. That I broke into a hundred pieces like a child. I was ashamed that I didn’t leave him, just bundle Joey up and walk