Lethal (Lee Coburn)

“Sure. Plus a cupcake.”

“Yea!” Emily raced toward the kitchen.

Honor stood up and faced Coburn. “Her dinner is past due.”

He pulled his lower lip through his teeth, glanced toward the kitchen, then hitched his chin in that direction. “Make it quick.”

Which wouldn’t be a problem, because by the time they entered the kitchen, Emily had already taken her pizza from the freezer. “I want pep’roni.”

Honor cooked the small pizza in the microwave. As she set it in front of Emily, Coburn asked, “You got any more of those?”

She heated him a pizza, and when she served it, he ate as greedily as he had at lunch.

“What are you eating, Mommy?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Coburn looked at her and arched an eyebrow. “Stomach virus?”

“Spoiled appetite.”

He shrugged indifferently, went to the freezer, and helped himself to another pizza.

When it came time for Emily’s cupcake, she insisted that Honor also have one. “So that it’s a real party,” she chirped.

Honor placed cupcakes on Dora the Explorer paper plates and, to please Emily, served them ceremoniously.

“Don’t forget the sprinkles.”

Honor brought the jar from the counter and passed it to Emily. Coburn was about to take a bite of his cupcake when Emily tapped his hand where it rested on the table. He jerked it back as though he’d been struck by a cobra.

“Company first. You need sprinkles.”

He looked down at the extended jar of sprinkles as though it was a moon rock, then said a gruff thanks, took it from Emily, and shook the candies onto his cupcake before passing the jar back to her.

He was jumpy, his nerves rubbed raw by exhaustion, the signs of which had become more apparent. The ceiling light above the dining table cast shadows on his prominent cheekbones, making the lower half of his face appear all the more lean and taut. The set of his shoulders and the heavy quality of his breathing were evidence of his weariness. Honor caught him several times blinking rapidly as though trying to stave off sleepiness.

Reasoning that fatigue would slow his reactions and dull his senses, Honor determined to watch and wait for an opportunity to make her move. She needed only one nanosecond of weakness, one blink when his guard was down.

The problem was, she was exhausted too. Emotions ranging from terror to rage had been supercharged all day, leaving her totally depleted of energy. Emily’s bedtime came as a relief. Honor changed her into pajamas.

While she was using the bathroom, Honor said to Coburn, “She can sleep in my bed.”

“She can sleep in her bed.”

“But if she’s with me, you can watch both of us at the same time.”

He gave one firm negative shake of his head. Arguing would be futile. She wouldn’t leave the house without Emily, and he knew that. Separating them ensured that she wouldn’t try to escape.

While Honor read the compulsory bedtime story, Coburn searched Emily’s closet, pushing aside the hangers and tapping the back wall. He removed her shoes from the floor and knocked on the planks with the heel of his cowboy boot, listening for a hollow spot.

He squeezed every stuffed toy in Emily’s menagerie, which caused Emily to giggle. “Don’t forget to hug Elmo,” she said, and trustingly handed the toy up to him.

He turned it over and ripped open the Velcro on the back seam.

“No!” Honor cried.

He shot her a look filled with suspicion.