The tree-lined streets of Chevy Chase were quiet but for a dog barking in the distance. At the front gate, a few newspapers were piled up, but thankfully, no reporters were staked out. Under the yellow porch light, Sean hugged Ryan again and he braced himself as he pushed open the door. If Emily was awake, he’d have some explaining to do. And Sean had no idea what to say. But the house was still.
“Why don’t you hit the sack,” Sean whispered, as they both slipped off their shoes. Ryan gave his father another hug. He tiptoed up the stairs while Sean went into the kitchen. Sean didn’t turn on the light. He opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of water, and took a long gulp. The voice came from the dining room.
“Where have you guys been?” The light clicked on. Emily’s gaze softened when she got a look at him. “Oh my God, what happened?”
Sean walked to his wife and gave her a long embrace. Over her shoulder in the dining room he saw piles of photographs spread across the table. Emily put her hands on Sean’s arms and examined his face.
“I got mugged,” he said finally. “I was in the gym’s parking lot and two guys came out of nowhere. They clocked me good and took my money. They threw my keys into the trees by the lot. I didn’t want to worry you, so I had Ryan ride his bike over and bring me a spare key.” They were not a couple who lied to one another, and already Sean regretted it. He should tell her everything. But he was deterred by the weary, demolished look of her. Was the old Emily even still in there?
“Are you okay? Did you call the police?” Emily tucked strands of hair behind her ears.
“I’m fine, and I’m not calling the police.”
“Why?”
“We don’t need more attention, and, besides, they knocked me to the ground before I got a good look at them, so it would be pointless.” The first rule of holes, Sean always told his children, is that when you’re in one, stop digging. But here he was with not just a shovel, but an excavator.
“I think we should call,” Emily said.
“No,” Sean said. It was firm and final, and to his surprise, Emily didn’t fight it. “You’re going through some pictures?” he asked, a clumsy change of subject.
Emily followed his eyes to the table and said, “Abby’s baby pictures, from before we had a digital camera. I’m having them and all our pictures digitized so they’re preserved.”
Sean gave a fleeting smile. “That’s a great idea, Em.” He walked to the table and looked over the photos. Birthday shots, first day of school, family vacations. He picked up a recent one.
“Remember this?” he said. It was from last Halloween. They were the Avengers. Ryan as Captain America, Jack as the Hulk, and Abby as Black Widow.
Emily nodded. “You told her the costume was too revealing.”
“It was,” Sean said. “I told her she was so beautiful that she didn’t need any more attention.”
“And what did she say?” Emily asked.
“What do you think?”
A smile briefly graced Emily’s lips, but then the vacant stare reappeared. “Let’s clean you up.” She took his hand and led him to the bathroom, where she pulled out a plastic container filled with Band-Aids and ointments. Her Mother’s Kit. She gestured for him to sit on the toilet seat as she ran a washcloth under warm water at the sink.
Sean winced as Emily softly dabbed at the crusted blood on his face. She ran the cloth under the water and a brown and red swirl disappeared down the drain. She cleaned the blood from his hair. More brown and red in the sink. They both stared absently at the blood. Before long Emily was crying. And so was he.
CHAPTER 32
After Emily returned to bed, Sean went to his home office and stared at the computer screen. He was too wired to sleep, so he scanned the fifty-seven e-mails he’d received from work. In one, a partner asked Sean to help pitch an appeal to a pharmaceutical company tomorrow. Sean typed out a reply that he would attend. What was he going to do otherwise—sit around the house and imagine conspiracies that didn’t exist? Make some more terrible decisions? He eyed the bottle of Nikka whiskey that stood on his desk on top of the photo of Sean, Kenny, and Juan.
He’d been a fool. In not wanting to accept that Abby was gone, not wanting to allow the grief to take hold, he’d lost his way. Temporary insanity. They had the man who’d killed Abby, Malik Montgomery, and everything else was just a distraction. Noise. If Kenny was truly back from Japan, it was probably because he’d seen Sean in the newspapers and thought he could get something out of it. It had nothing to do with Abby. As for Chipotle Man, he was a small-time drug dealer. Neither Kenny nor Chipotle Man would be able to find the Supreme Court building on a map, much less get inside and hurt Abby.
His foolishness tonight had nearly gotten him seriously hurt. Worse, he’d put Ryan at risk. He flashed to his son standing on the football field, clasping the rebar, face sallow. Sean grabbed the bottle of whiskey by the neck and placed it in the wastebasket. He stared at the photo then crinkled it into a ball. A voice snapped him out of it.
“I thought I heard someone still up,” Ryan said. He leaned on the doorframe.