Public Secrets
Chapter 68 : "That b.l.o.o.d.y music put a roof over your head.""Dad." With the

"That b.l.o.o.d.y music put a roof over your head."

"Dad." With the stuffed dog clutched in her arms, Emma stood in the

doorway, her eyes wide and frightened, her lower lip trembling. She had

heard the angry voices, smelled the hot odor of liquor before she

stepped into the room.

"Emma." A bit unsteady, Brian walked over to pick her up, careful not to

jar her arm with the cast. "What are you doing down here?"

"I had a bad dream." The snakes had come back, and the monsters. She

could still hear the echo of Darren's cries.

"Hard to sleep in a strange bed." Liam got to his feet. His hand was

awkward, but it was gentle as he patted her head. "Your grandda will

fix you some warm milk."

She sniffled as he took out an old, dented pan. "Can I stay with you?"

she asked her father.

"Sure." He carried her to a chair and sat with her on his lap.

"I woke up, and I couldn't find you."

"I'm right here, Emma." He stroked her hair, studying his father over

her head. "I'll always be here for you."

EVEN THERE, LOU THOUGHT. Even at such a time. He studied the grainy

tabloid pictures of Darren McAvoy's funeral. He'd seen the paper at the

checkout of the supermarket when he'd picked up the whole wheat bread

Marge had sent him out for. Like anything that had to do with the

McAvoys, it had caught his interest, and his sympathy. He'd been more

than a little embarra.s.sed to have bought it, in public, from Sally the

checker.

In the privacy of his own home, he felt even more like a voyeur. For a

few pieces of loose change he, and thousands of others, could witness

the intimacy of grief It was there on all the faces, though they were

bluffed. He could see the little girl, her arm in a cast and sling.

He wondered how much she had seen, how much she would remember. The

doctors he had consulted had all claimed that if she had witnessed

anything, she had blocked it. She could remember tomorrow, five years

from tomorrow, or never.

DEVASTATION ATGRAVESITE

There had been other headlines, dozens of others. Lou already had a

drawerful.

DIDEmMAMcAvoyWffNESSHERBROTHER'S

HoRRiBLEDEATH?

SON'SDEATHROCKSDEvAsTATION

CHILD MURDEREDDUR[NG PARENTS' ORGY

PiTuALKiLLING OFRocKER's BABY:

ARE MANSONF==Rs REsPONsiBLE?

Garbage, Lou thought. It was all garbage. He wondered if Pete Page

managed to s.h.i.+eld the McAvoys from the worst of it. Frustrated, he

rested his head in his hands and continued to stare at the picture.

He couldn't pull himself away from the case. He was bringing his work

home with him now, and bringing it home with a vengeance. Files, photos,

notes littered his desk in the corner of Marge's tidy living room.

Though he had good men a.s.signed with him, he doublechecked all their

work. He had personally interviewed everyone on the guest list he'd