Page 4 of Stay Away from Him

“Here?In the city?”

Thomas shrugged. “Well, the suburbs. And in case you haven’t noticed, there’s as much nature here as there is developed land.”

Melissa accepted the correction with a small nod. Thomas was right. The lake was right there, past the backyard, and Lawrence and Toby’s property also adjoined a large wooded area, full of ancient creaking ashes and oaks whose leaves fluttered black against the moonlit night sky. Melissa still didn’t know her way around the neighborhood too well, but her understanding was that the Twin Cities’ north suburbs alone boasted a handful more lakes, dozens of parks with haphazardly connected trails, and nature centers set between housing subdivisions. Perhaps it wasn’t so odd to imagine a coyote threading stealthily between ranch homes, haunting the edges of strip malls, lurking in ditches by freeways.

“It’s a little overblown, if you ask me,” Thomas said. “People here are so fascinated with the coyote, you’d think we had a serial killer.”

“Sounds to me like they’re scared of it,” Melissa said.

“They’re just bored,” Thomas said, then turned to someone at Melissa’s left, a beautiful redheaded woman dressed all in black, her eyes hidden behind chunky-framed glasses whose lenses caught the yellow glow of the candles. “What do you think, Amelia? Do you have a diagnosis?”

The woman, who until that moment had made no effort to speak to Melissa or Thomas, turned and flashed a wry smile.

“Classic displacement,” she murmured, low enough for only them to hear. “Fear of the other, fear of violence, of chaos and social decay—all laid onto the shoulders of a single wild and possibly imaginary canine that’s only looking for an occasional meal.”

Thomas chortled. “Amelia’s a psychiatrist,” he explained to Melissa. “And asavagejudge of character, as you can see.”

“Savage?Thomas, I’m hurt. You know my purpose is always therapeutic.”

“Right. That’s why I stopped seeing you. Because you were a little too…therapeutic.”

The woman shook her head. “You’re terrible,” she said, then offered a hand to Melissa over the half-empty plates. “Amelia Harkness.”

Melissa accepted the handshake and said her own name, feeling a little lightheaded. Maybe it was the wine on top of the pre-dinner cocktail—but she was also having more than a little trouble keeping up with everything that had just passed between Thomas and Amelia. She felt as though she’d stepped into the middle of something, some complicated dance, that had been going on for a while and had very little to do with her. It seemed as though their words contained secret messages, perhaps a jab or two, an attack and a parry. She couldn’t begin to puzzle through it all, but her thoughts snagged on the question of what Thomas had meant when he saidThat’s why I stopped seeing you.It was theseeing youpart that made her pause. Romantically? Or as a psychiatrist?

“I hear you’re new to the area,” Amelia said to Melissa. “How are you liking it?”

“Oh, fine,” Melissa said. “I didn’t know anything about a coyote, though. And what was that you were saying about…violence and…and decay?”

Amelia waved her hand. “Oh, Thomas was right—I was just being bad. This is a safe neighborhood.”

“Mostly,” Thomas said.

“Well, of course, there’ssomecrime here, just like anywhere. A recent rash of vandalism—most people think it’s kids, teenagers. The usual amount of drug use that happens behind closeddoors in affluent communities. Alcoholism, instances of domestic abuse. We’re not immune from the problems that happen in any community.”

“You’re forgetting the big one,” Thomas said. “Three years ago? Remember?”

Amelia’s mouth tensed, her lips going flat and pale. Then her face softened, her skin wrinkling at the temples. Melissa still couldn’t see the other woman’s eyes very well behind her glasses, but she felt certain in that moment that there must be sadness in them.

“Oh, Thomas,” Amelia said, an ache in her voice. “I’m so sorry.”

“What is it?” Melissa asked. She was getting that dizzy feeling again—and not just from the speed at which the night had devolved from harmless flirting to discussing wild predators and local crimes. There was also, just then, the confusion and vague embarrassment of wandering into something she didn’t understand, of being the only person who did not have a critical piece of information that the others in the conversation seemed to possess. What were Thomas and Amelia talking about? What had Amelia forgotten—and why was she apologizing to Thomas for it?

Melissa was considering whether to press them on these questions or let the moment pass, when she sensed some movement on the other side of the dining room. Behind Lawrence and Toby at the head of the table, someone stood on the landing at the top of the stairs that led to her basement apartment. It was Bradley, Melissa’s five-year-old son, a soft blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his hair mussed up from sleep.

“Shit,” Melissa muttered, nudging her chair back. “Thomas, Amelia—I’m really sorry. I have to get this.”

She felt everyone’s eyes follow her as she walked to Bradley.

“Nothing to see here, folks,” she said as she rushed to intercept her son. “Just a bedtime refugee.”

A bit of polite laughter bubbled up from the table, and even though she didn’t want to feel embarrassed, Melissa’s cheeks flamed. The sight of Bradley’s pajamas and bedhead felt like a crack in the glamour of the dinner party, a shard of family messiness intruding into the classy ambience Lawrence and Toby, Melissa’s hosts and landlords, were trying to strike for the evening.

“Mom, I can’t sleep,” Bradley whimpered when she reached him.

“It’s okay, bud. Let’s get you downstairs.” Melissa put her hand on the boy’s back, between his shoulder blades, and began to guide him toward the steps. She glanced back to silently mouthI’m sorryto Lawrence. He shook his head and gave her a dismissive downward wave—no big deal. In that same moment, Melissa caught sight of Thomas on the other end of the table, who actually looked sad—no,bereft—to see her go.

Then they were down the steps, Bradley and Melissa, away from the chatter of the dinner party and into the quiet of the apartment they’d been living in for the past month, ever since moving to Minnesota. It was a nicer space than the words “basement apartment” might suggest. There was a big main room for the kitchen, dining, and living room, and because Lawrence and Toby’s house was built into a hill, they had a walkout to the back, a little patio where Melissa took her coffee in the morning. Past the edge of the yard was the clutch of trees and woods on one side, the lake on the other. The bathroom and bedrooms were down the hall, but Bradley and Melissa stopped in the living room. Melissa sunk to a knee to look her son in the eye.

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