The Bodies Left Behind

the bodies down.”
    “That was some fine shooting, Hart. I mean, really.” Lewis muscled the small boat upright.
    But Hart wasn’t thinking about marksmanship. Shooting was just a skill and in this business you had to be good at it, just like you couldn’t be a carpenter without knowing how to plane or lathe. No, he was recalling his earlier thoughts. Now that the evening’s mission was finished he had to turn his attention to what came next: how to anticipate and prepare for the hard consequences that would flow from these women’s deaths.
    Because, Hart knew, they surely would.

    GRAHAM BOYD SAT forward on the green couch, frowning, looking not at the TV screen but at an antiqued table nearby, splotched in white and gold, under which sat a box containing the only knitting project he’d ever known Brynn to tackle—a sweater for a niece. She’d given it up years ago, after six inches of uneven sleeve.
    Anna looked up from her own knitting. “I let it go for a while.”
    Her son-in-law lifted an eyebrow.
    She traded the big blue needles for a remote control, turned down the volume. Once again, Grahamcaught a glimpse of a tougher core within her than the spun hair and faint smile in her powdered face suggested.
    “You might as well tell me. I’ll get it out of you sooner or later.”
    What the hell was she talking about? He looked away, at some nonsense on the flat screen.
    Her eyes didn’t leave him. “That call, right? The one from the school?”
    He started to say something, then paused. But he went ahead finally. “Was a little worse than I let on.”
    “Thought so.”
    He explained what Joey’s section advisor had said—about the boy’s cutting school, the forgery, the ’phalting and even the suspension last fall. “And there were some other fights he got into too. I didn’t have the heart to ask his advisor about it.”
    Well, which one?  . . .
    “Ah.” Anna nodded. “I had a feeling.”
    “You did?”
    She retrieved the knitting project. “What’re you going to do about it?”
    Graham shrugged. He sat back. “Had an idea to talk to him. But I’ll leave that for Brynn. Let her handle it.”
    “Been eating at you, I could see. You didn’t laugh once at Drew Carey.”
    “If this’s happened once, it’s happened before. Cutting class? Don’t you think?”
    “Most likely. My experience with children.” Anna was speaking from knowledge. Brynn had an olderbrother and a younger sister, a teacher and computer salesperson, respectively. Pleasant, kind people, fun people. Conventional. Brynn tended to swim upstream more than her siblings.
    Anna McKenzie now dropped the Hallmark-Channel demeanor, which she donned like camouflage when needed. The tone in her voice changed, day to night. “What I want to say: You never discipline him, Graham.”
    “After Keith, I never knew whether to do this or that.”
    “You’re not Keith. Thank God. Don’t worry.”
    “Brynn doesn’t let me. Or that’s the message I get. And I never pushed. I don’t want to undermine her. He’s her son.”
    “Not just,” she reminded quickly. “He’s your boy too now. You get the whole package—even came with an ornery old lady you hadn’t bargained for.”
    He gave a laugh. “But I want to be careful. Joey . . . I know he had a tough time with the divorce.”
    “Who doesn’t? That’s life. No reason for you to be a shrinking violet when it comes to him.”
    “Maybe you’re right.”
    “I am. Go up and see him. Now.” She added, “Maybe it’s the best thing in the world Brynn went out on that call tonight. Give you two a chance to talk.”
    “What do I say? I tried coming up with something. It was stupid.”
    “Go with your instincts. If it feels right it probably is. That’s what I did with my children. Got some things right. And some things wrong. Obviously.”
    The last word was heavily seasoned.
    “You think?”
    “I think. Somebody’s got to be in charge. He can’t be. And Brynn . . .” The woman said nothing more.
    “Any advice?”
    Anna laughed. “He’s the child. You’re the adult.”
    Graham supposed that was a brilliant insight but it didn’t seem to help.
    Evidently she could see he was confused. “Play it by ear.”
    Graham exhaled and walked upstairs, the steps creaking under his big frame. He knocked on the boy’s door and entered without waiting for a response, which he’d never done before.
    Joey’s round, freckled face looked up from his desk,