“Hunter. Got it. Can we see Hunter’s room?”
Mom isn’t sure about Candy and Vidocq, but I can tell she hates me already. I’m not sure about Dad. He looks like the kind of guy who didn’t come from money, and now that he has it, he’s always a little on edge waitingrunedge wa for someone to try to take it away. That means he’ll have a handgun or two in the house.
K.W. leads us to Hunter’s room while Mom trails behind.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but did Hunter take anything like antidepressants? Or was he ever locked up for, you know, behavior problems?”
“You mean, was our son crazy?” asks Mom.
“Was he?”
“No. He was a normal boy. He ran track.”
So that’s what normal is. I should write that down.
“Did he take any recreational drugs?”
Mom’s attitude has gone from hate to stabby.
“He’d never touch those. He’s an athlete. Besides, when Hunter was a boy he saw Tommy, his older brother, destroy himself with drugs. He hallucinated. He was scared all the time and couldn’t sleep for weeks on end. And it kept getting worse. Then Tommy died. Hunter saw all of it.”
“He didn’t die. He hanged himself,” says Dad. His face is set and hard, but it’s clear that admitting this hurt.
“Don’t say it like that,” says Mom. The tears come fast, an automatic reaction when her other son’s death comes up.
These people are unbelievably easy to read. They don’t have any magic. There aren’t any spells that will hide it this thoroughly.
K.W. puts an arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“Jen, why don’t you put on some fresh coffee for our guests?”
Mom nods and heads down the hall.
When she’s gone K.W. turns to us.
“Sorry. This thing has us both a little crazy, but it’s hit her worse. How are you supposed to live after one son’s suicide and your other son’s . . . well, whatever the hell this is. What’s normal again after that?” he says. He swallows hard. “I still don’t know what we did to ruin our boys.”
“You didn’t ruin anyone,” says Candy. “Things just happen sometimes. It’s easier to fall off the edge of the world than you might think. Even for nice people.”
K.W. looks at her. His eyes are wet, but he’s fighting hard not to let it go any further. I hate being reminded that rich people are still people.
He pushes open the door to Hunter’s room.
“This is it,” he says. “Look around at anything you want. We don’t have any secrets.”
Mom comes back.
“I put coffee on.”
She looks past us into the ruined room.
She says, “Julia told us not to touch anything, so we haven’t.”
I scan the wreckage inside.
“You haven’t done anything? Like a spilled glass of water or class photo?”
“No.”