Page 19 of Trapper Road

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The first reporter calls the home phone shortly after ten o clock that night. I’d been sitting on the couch, unable to go to bed, still shaken by the day’s events. Some part of me felt the need to stand guard, but against what I didn’t know. It just feels like there’s a threat out there lurking, and I need to be prepared.

I find out soon enough when there’s a knock at the door. I don’t take any chances, going first for my gun in the safe under the couch. I hold it by my side as I move stealthily to the window and glance outside. A news van sits idling on the street.

The reporter must have seen the curtain flicker because she starts shouting questions through the door. “Mrs. Proctor, we know your son Connor was the main witness at the Crescent View High shooting today. Does he have any comment about what happened? Sources say he was close friends with the gunman. Did he know what he was planning? Was he involved?”

There’s a noise behind me, and I tense, turning quickly. Connor stands at the edge of the hallway. He’s wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, and his hair isn’t mussed, which means he hadn’t yet gone to bed. It’s obvious from the color draining from his face that he’s heard the reporter’s questions.

His attention falls to the gun at my side. He begins to tremble, and his eyes flash with panic.

My instinctual need to protect roars inside me. I immediately return the gun to the safe under the sofa and go to my son, pulling him into my arms. He doesn’t resist. “Shhh, baby,” I tell him, holding him closer. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

There’s another knock at the door, this one louder. More questions being shouted through the thick wood. Connor’s already shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk to them. Please.”

I’m flushed with rage at the reporter. How dare she come to our house and disrupt our sanctuary? But I know my real anger is at myself. I should have seen this coming. The police had promised to keep Connor’s role as a witness out of the press, but with so many people involved in the investigation and the aftermath, it was too much to ask for. The story alone is sensational enough, but add to it our family history and you have entertainment gold.

I also know it will only get worse.

“Mom?” Lanny stands in the doorway to her room looking entirely too vulnerable in her threadbare Ramones shirt and well-worn shorts. Her feet are bare, and her purple and pink hair drifts around her head like a rainbow.

Sam stands behind her. From the set of his jaw, it’s obvious he’s in full protection mode. “I’ve already called the cops and reported the trespassing. They’re sending someone.”

I won’t hold my breath. I’m pretty sure ridding us of reporters won’t be very high on their to-do list. “It won’t matter. The press will just camp out on the street, waiting.”

Just then another voice joins the chorus outside, but this one is higher pitched and younger. I recognize it instantly. “Get out of my fucking way. And get the fuck out of here while you’re at it. Stop turning tragedy into entertainment, you useless assholes!”

A key turns in the lock, and the door opens only wide enough for Vera Crockett to slip inside before she slams it behind her. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she murmurs under her breath, throwing the deadbolt and resetting the alarm before turning to face us.

She looks more put together than usual — a billowy shirt tucked into high waisted jeans, muted makeup, and damp hair tucked behind her ears. The only thing out of place are the large yeti slippers on her feet.

“I came as soon as I heard about the shooting. Y’all okay?” She asks that last question of Connor and Lanny specifically. Connor nods. Lanny responds by rushing forward and letting Vera pull her into a hug.

Theirs has been a relationship that has tipped back and forth between friends and something more. I have no idea where the needle stands right now, and don’t particularly care so long as Lanny has someone else to lean on. Vee brings her comfort, and Lanny needs that right now.

It’s obvious no one is going to be sleeping anytime soon, so I retreat to the kitchen where I pour a glass of wine for Sam and myself and make hot chocolate for the kids. The kids follow, taking their seats at the table. Lanny pulls her feet onto the edge of the chair, tucking her knees under her chin.

Connor slouches, picking at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. He’s trying hard to pretend everything’s fine, but the redness around his eyes from crying betrays him. Seeing them both like this hurts. This is what I’ve tried to protect them from — the horrors of the world. They shouldn’t have to grow up this fast, but they haven’t ever been given the choice.

Melvin made sure of that.

Vee rummages through the cabinets until she finds a package of cookies. She grabs a few, then takes a seat, tossing the box in the center of the table. “So, what are we going to do about those assholes outside?”

I’m not surprised at Vee’s loyalty. She’s not officially a member of the family, but we quasi-adopted her after helping her get out of trouble in Wolfhunter, TN. Although she’s technically an emancipated minor, we still help her out financially. We’re the closest thing to family she has.

Neither Lanny nor Connor says anything. Sam meets my eyes and nods. He already knows what I’m thinking — we’d discussed it earlier. If anything, it’s an obvious solution. School has been cancelled for the rest of the week, if not longer, while they investigate the shooting and patch the bullet holes. The last thing I want to do to my kids is keep them cooped up in the house with reporters circling outside. I need to get them away from here — far from all of the scrutiny and reminders of what happened.

“How about we get out of town for a bit?” I suggest.

Connor pauses cramming several cookies into his mouth. “Am I allowed to?”

“No one has said you can’t. Plus, the police know how to reach us if they have any more questions.”

“Where to, then?” he asks. “Stillhouse Lake?” There’s a small glimmer of hope in his eyes, a reminder of his connection to our old home.

“It’s rented, unfortunately,” I say, hating to disappoint him. “But there’s a missing person case in North Carolina that J.B. wants me to take a look at. We can all go — Sam’s already taken the time off.”

Connor considers this a moment. “Will we get to help you with the case?”

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