Page 64 of Darkwater Lane

Except that I have been these last few years. I’ve felt like if I lay low, if I followed the rules, if I didn’t engage with the constant stream of hate, somehow my patience would be rewarded, and we’d be allowed to move on from Melvin’s mess.

Perhaps it’s time to take a different approach. Maybe it’s time to be loud. Angry. To speak up.

It doesn’t escape my attention that women are often rewarded for their silence. I’m not interested in that any longer.

“Madison suggested we do a podcast. Sort of an answer toTheRoyal Murders, except this time, we’d be the ones in control of the narrative. I think maybe we should consider accepting her offer.”

“You really think we should reward the woman who spent a considerable amount of time and effort painting us in the worst light possible?”

“Actually, yeah. That’s exactly who we should talk to. If listeners see her changing her mind about us, then it might make them do the same.”

“You trust her?”

I laugh. “No. But,” I add, “Madison was with me when I got the 911 text from Lanny, and she could have easily gone public with her story. She didn’t. So, yeah, maybe I trust her a little more than before. Or at least, I’m willing to give her a chance. That doesn’t mean I’m letting my guard down.”

Sam carries his mug to the sink, dumps the dregs of his coffee, then rinses it and sets it in the drying rack. When he’s done, he turns to face me. “I don’t think this is a good idea. But I’m not going to stop you.”

We’ve had disagreements before, some larger than others. I don’t like it. I’m used to being on the same page. It’s part of what works with Sam and me. We have the same priorities and values.

But we each carry different baggage, and that sometimes causes us to see things through different lenses.

If Sam were truly against the podcast, he would say so. As it stands, he’s leaving it up to me to take the risk. I understand where he’s coming from. His concerns are valid.

“I’ll reach out to Madison and see what she says. Just because we record a podcast doesn’t mean we have to release it. We can always revisit the question down the road.”

He nods and, together, we make a plan of attack for fixing the house. Sam heads off to the hardware store, and I call Madison to let her know I’m interested in discussing the possibility of movingforward with her podcast idea. She says yes immediately, and we agree to meet at a coffee shop in Norton the following morning.

This might be a mistake. We might be painting an even larger target on our backs. I hope not.

Early that afternoon, Kez drives Lanny and Connor back to the house on her way to visit her father. I don’t even wait for them to walk in the front door before pulling them both into my arms.

Connor rolls his eyes. “So, we’re doing this then?”

Lanny snickers.

I glance at Sam to see if he understands. He looks as clueless as I feel. “Doing what?”

Connor sighs. “The typical mom post-mortem, where you tell us how scared you were and run through everything we did wrong and what to do differently next time so we can be prepared.”

Lanny nods. “Usually followed by a ‘surprise drill’ that night or the next to make sure we were listening.”

I’m still frowning when Lanny claps a hand on my shoulder. “You do it every time, Mom.”

“Yeah,” Connor adds. “You should really think about varying it up. Routines are dangerous, remember? They make you vulnerable.”

Both kids walk past me toward the kitchen, leaving me with my jaw dropped. I scramble after them. “This isn’t a joke, guys.”

“Did you have that one on your bingo card?” Connor asks Lanny. “I’m pretty sure I did.”

They’re both being entirely too blasé about this situation. “Armed men broke into our house.” I bite out. “Shots were fired. Sam was beaten.”

At that last detail, both kids have the decency to look chastened.They look past me to where Sam leans against the kitchen wall. “You okay?” Lanny asks.

“Never better.”

Lanny and Connor catch each other’s eye again, and I watch them have a silent conversation. Apparently, it’s decided that Lanny will talk first.

She sighs. “Look, Mom. We know last night was serious. It scared the shit out of both of us. And at some point, we do want to talk about it. But not now. The last thing we want to do is spend the day rehashing it and then spend the next several nights running drills for next time.”