The Silent Boy (Emma McPherson Book 1) by A.J. Flynn (early reader books .txt) 📗

nausea. In an effort to regain control of himself, he reached for his pipe, but his hand knocked into one of the numerous ceramic statues Claire had scattered all over the house.

The statue was of a vacuous-faced girl dressed in a hoop skirt, with flowers and ruffles bursting from every possible surface. He stared at it for a moment, his rugged face set in hard lines, then he picked it up and flung it across the room, where it hit the wall and exploded into pieces.

Smiling, he took in the shards of clay, then stood up and strode into the bedroom, blithely ignoring Claire’s startled protests.

VII

Sleep had been impossible at the Fitts’s. Both Karl and Marla finally gave up trying around three thirty, and got up.

“I’ll make us some cups of hot chocolate. They might help us sleep,” Marla said softly, so as not to wake the children.

“Okay,” Karl answered. “I’ll turn up the thermostat.”

Karl turned up the heat and went to glance out the window at the quiet and still neighborhood.

For some reason there was something frightening about all the houses. Each seemed like its own small fortress, with everyone huddled inside and on guard. Almost instinctively he surveyed each of the houses separately, measuring the guilt or innocence of the people who had been his friends. Then he turned abruptly, uttering something to himself about how he was acting like a damned fool, and threw himself back on the couch. He closed his eyes and tried to recapture some of the contentment and good feeling that had filled the room such a short time before. He was still lost in his thoughts when Marla entered, carrying twin cups of hot chocolate.

He looked up at her, his expression appreciative. She was a good-looking woman, not quite beautiful, but pretty. Even with the strain around her blue eyes, and her blonde hair showing a shade darker at the roots, she still made a nice picture.

She handed him his cup and took a seat next to his feet. They quietly sipped at the rich liquid, until Marla finally broke the silence.

“Karl, I don’t care what the police say, I want to take the children with me to Mother’s, at least until all this blows over. The strain I feel worrying about them is just too much.”

Karl sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He had expected this. It wasn’t that he wanted his kids to be exposed to suspicion and fear, it was just that whenever something happened in their lives that needed to be dealt with, Marla’s first instinct was to run back home to her mother’s. Last time he had tolerated two months straight of hysterics before he was finally able to convince her to leave Fullerton, even though the job he was being offered paid nearly twice as much and there was a fair chance of advancement.

He’d fooled himself into thinking the new furniture and clothing they’d been able to buy had put an end to her homesickness, but here it was once again, rearing its unwanted head. He could sort of understand where she was coming from, but he was human enough to hope she might at least just once turn to him in time of trouble, instead of her mother.

“You heard what the lieutenant said. There’s no reason for us to panic or expect anything else to happen.”

“Well, I know what to expect.” Her voice was harsh. “There’s a killer out on the loose. A sex fiend who preys on children, and the police are saying Charlie must have known him. If Charlie knew him, then we know him too, and a person like that will just keep on killing, again and again. A man like that can’t help himself.” Her voice rose higher, until it seemed like she was deliberately trying to work herself into hysterics.

“Now, Marla,” Karl said soothingly, “don’t get yourself all worked up, you’re going to wake the children. The police said there was no evidence the killer was a sex fiend or pedophile. You’re letting your imagination run away with you.”

“Do you really think the police would tell us?” she said sarcastically. Pulling away from him, she carried on, “Of course they wouldn’t! Little Charlie was lured away by someone he thought was his friend, then mistreated and killed, and nobody can tell me any different. What you don’t seem to get is that very same person might be waiting for the perfect chance to get Jade or Teddy, and it’s my job to take them away until they catch him. I have to.”

Karl tipped his head back to rest on the back of the couch and closed his eyes wearily. “Let’s think about it. Don’t let yourself get so worked up.”

Marla tugged absently at a stray lock of hair. “It’s not the knowing part that makes it so frightening. If they could just tell us who. Not that things could ever be the same, but not knowing which of our friends killed him is driving me crazy. I mean, I think of someone like Harry Valentine, and I remember we still don’t know where he came from, or what he did before he got here. Then I think back to the time he brought me to the hospital when Jade was sick, and waited with me until they could get ahold of you, and then I wonder what the real Harry is like. Or what about Robb Johnson? I mean, he’s always drunk and running around with strange women. What says it can’t be him?”

“Marla! Do you realize you just practically accused these men of murder?”

“I don’t care. Someone around here did it, and it could be any one of them. Our children are in danger and you’ve got to let me take them away.”

Karl put his cup down on the table and rose wearily. “I told you that I’d think about it; now why don’t you go and try to get some sleep?”

She