Page 15 of Trapper Road

I stand frozen as the impact of his words hit me. What strikes me the most is how unsurprised I am by the news. My gut had been warning me about Kevin for weeks but I’d ignored it.

Beside me, Lanny gasps. Connor winces. His face flushes, and it’s a familiar tell. He often blushes when he feels guilty.

Now that he’s spoken, he can’t seem to stop. “I don’t understand how he could have …” he takes a deep breath, or tries to but it catches in his throat. “How he could …” he shakes his head, teeth clenched. “He just stood there and shot them and how —? How could he do that to our friends like they weren’t real people, and it wasn’t a real gun with real bullets and the blood and … he just shot them. How could he do that? Why would he …”

He’s trembling now and I pull him against me, smothering his words against my shoulder and holding him tight. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

“I don’t understand,” he says, his voice muffled against me. “He was my friend.” He chokes back a sob.

I search for something to say, some words that might soothe my son, but there’s nothing. I know the confusion and betrayal of someone close to you doing the unthinkable. I know that some things are unexplainable. Some people are just rotten inside. Knowing that doesn’t stop the pain.

Someone clears their throat nearby, and I look up to find the detectives waiting. Connor must hear it too because he straightens.

“Ms. Proctor?” the female detective asks. I nod. “Do we have your permission to ask your son a few questions?”

I glance toward Sam, trying to gauge if it’s a good idea to let Connor talk to the police without calling a lawyer first. As sure as I am that Connor had nothing to do with the shooting, I also remember how quick the cops were to suspect him of being a potential school shooter earlier in the year when someone hacked into a message board and posted false threats under his screenname.

Connor, though, shows no hesitation. “I want to talk,” he tells me.

I’m still uncertain. “Are you sure?”

He nods and takes a step away from me, folding his arms across his middle, hunching his shoulders. I’ve never seen my son quite so unsettled. He looks younger, more tentative than when he left this morning.

He takes a shuddering breath. “He had all these guns,” he explains, not even waiting for the detectives to ask. “Well, his parents did, in a safe—but he knew the combination, and he’d get them out and play with them. Sometimes we’d do target practice in the woods.” He looks at me then down at the ground. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t know what to say. I could have sworn on every holy book there is that my son knew how to be safe, knew how to correctly handle a gun, knew that playing with them was wrong and dangerous. I’ve drilled into both of my children time and time again that guns aren’t toys. That they should be respected.

That Connor disregarded all of that stuns me. I want to blame Kevin for his bad influence, to make excuses for my son’s behavior, but Connor isn’t blameless. He allowed himself to be influenced.

For the first time it truly hits me how much I don’t know about my son.

Now isn’t the time to raise any of this with Connor, however. Berating him for playing with guns would be useless. Clearly, he knows. So I just nod. I can’t think of anything else.

“He had a fight yesterday with a couple of guys,” Connor says. “Not in real life. On the game. But they said all kinds of stuff. He told them he’d get them. I thought he was just kidding, I really did. I figured he’d ambush them in the game or something and really screw them up. But—I saw him down the hall. He walked right up to Mike and just…,” here he hesitates, his face going pale and he swallows several times before he can continue. “He just shot him. Mike’s friend Junior was right there, and he shot him too. Then he just … walked off. I tried to save them, Mom. I tried but there was so much blood—”

Connor’s shaking like a leaf, and I embrace him again. “You’re okay,” I tell him. “You’re alive, not hurt. Let’s start there. I’m so glad you’re okay, honey.” I look at my daughter. “I’m so glad you’re both okay.”

She joins the embrace, with Sam wrapping his arms around us all. For a moment we huddle together, the family protecting itself from the world and all its dangers.

Eventually, I have to let go. I have to let the detectives escort Connor away, Sam walking beside him with his arm draped over his shoulders. I have to walk with Lanny back across the street to our car waiting in the parking lot. I ignore the cameras and the questions being thrown at us from the swarming media.

I don’t even want to imagine the kind of frenzy it will ignite when they realize that Melvin Royal’s son was friends with the shooter and a witness to the crime.

It’s ironic. All this time I’ve been looking to Melvin Royal as the biggest threat to my son’s life. Today was a reminder that threats exist in the world outside of our past.

4

GWEN

Kez calls the moment we return home. As soon as I answer the phone, I hear the urgency in her voice. “I just saw the news about the shooting. Tell me the kids are okay.”

“They’re okay,” I assure her.

She lets out a hiss of relief. “Jesus, Gwen. What the hell happened?”

From down the hallway I hear the water turn on — Lanny taking a shower. Knowing she won’t be able to hear me allows me to let down my guard. There are few people I trust in this world, but Kezia Claremont is one of them. She also loves my kids almost as much as I do, so I can only imagine what it was like for her to hear the news.

I sink onto the couch, limp with exhaustion from the day’s emotional roller coaster. “Some kid brought a gun to school. Apparently over a stupid grudge about a video game. Two students were shot and are in critical condition.”

---