"I don't remember," she lied.
"But something happened."
"I think so," she told him, feigning confidentiality.
"But I've either blocked it out or . . ." She trailed off.
He nodded, satisfied.
"My brother says they're pressing charges against us?"
"Don't worry," he said. "There won't be any charges.
I'll make sure of it."
"Thank you," she told him.
Behind him, she saw Josh wave to her, finished with the fireman, and she said, "My brother's calling me."
She stepped around the policeman, and her heart was pounding as though she'd done something wrong, as though she was afraid he'd arrest her.
"I would suggest staying away from here," the cop said.
"Don't worry," she told him. "I plan to."
Josh took her arm. "They have our names and everything. I gave them my address and phone number, so they wouldn't bug you." He motioned toward the car.
"You want to go? Or is there something else--"
"No," she said quickly. "Let's go. Let's get out of here."
"The paramedics wanted to look at you, but they said they don't have to if you don't want to, and I said you didn't."
She nodded.
They walked to the car in silence, one of the police vehicles already pulling away, the rest of the men packing up their gear.
"An exciting day for Pine Creek," Josh said.
"Yeah." Laurie smiled.
He took out his keys, opened the passenger door for her. "What did happen in there?" he said. "Really?"
She gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.
"Get in the car," she said. "I'll explain it all on the way home."
Epilogue Brian left after dinner, giving her a big hug and shadowboxing with Tony, and Margot watched his car drive away as Tony went into his bedroom to get his homework.
The house felt lonely, the absence of a man's presence especially noticeable after her brother's departure.
She stared into the night, her eyes focusing on the streetlight across the way, and thought of Daniel.
Daniel.
Burying an empty coffin had been the hardest part. It was difficult enough to accept the death of someone you loved, but when there was no body, the loss was somehow magnified and made even greater.
Even after all these months, it was still a raw wound to her, a bleeding slash across her emotions and her psyche, and though it was even worse at night, alone, in bed, it hurt all the time, and just standing here in the kitchen after dinner, she felt a huge painful emptiness in her gut. She wanted to sob out loud, wanted to cry out her anguish and burst into tears, but she knew that Tony would be back with his homework in a minute, and she didn't want him to see her cry. She needed to be strong for him. She needed to provide him with as stable a home life as she could manage under the circumstances.
She thought of Daniel's "friends." She believed what they'd said, as far as it went, but she thought there was probably more, and while she knew they weren't about to share it with her now, she was willing to wait. She would find out eventually.
A light breeze caressed her cheek, a movement of air Bentley Little through the torn screen that seemed at once cooler and warmer than the night outside.
She thought she heard her name, whispered.
Margot Tony walked into the kitchen, put his books out on the table, took out his paper and pencil. She wanted to tell him to be quiet so she could listen, so she could hear the whisper again, but she said nothing, continued to stare.
Margot She opened the screen door, looked around, but there was nothing. No movement, no sound.
"What is it?" Tony asked, coming up behind her.
She let the screen door fall closed, continued to stare straight ahead, into the night, not wanting him to see her tears.
Margot "The wind," she said softly. "It's just the wind."