Page 43 of Trapper Road

If he’s asked Mike to get involved, that means it’s more serious than he’s letting on. “What did Leo say to put you so on edge?”

“He mentioned Lanny being at prospective students weekend.”

I sit up straight, muscles coiling as my hand curls into a fist. “He threatened Lanny?” It comes out a growl. It’s one thing for these sickos to go after me, but the minute they bring my kids into it I go into full mama bear mode.

“Don’t worry — I asked Mike to trace Leo’s call. It originated in California so he’s not a current threat. At least physically. He was just trying to get under my skin.”

Though I’m glad to know Leo’s nowhere near Lanny, it still doesn’t put my mind at ease. “You were worried enough to trail our daughter,” I point out.

“I thought it better to be safe than sorry.”

I glance around the empty patio. I don’t like how vulnerable I suddenly feel. Lanny and Sam are too far away — if something happened and they needed me, it would take hours to reach them. “Maybe you two should drive down and meet us in North Carolina. We’d be safer if we’re all in the same place.”

“Trust me, I’d much prefer if we were all together as well. But I don’t think that’s what’s best for Lanny right now.”

“Being safe is what’s best for Lanny,” I bite out.

He pauses before answering. “I don’t know if that’s enough anymore, Gwen. You should have seen her last night. She was smiling and laughing — completely at ease. I barely recognized her. She was so… happy. I don’t know that I realized how buttoned up she keeps herself at home. She’s always on edge, always waiting for the next shoe to drop. She needs this weekend. She needs to experience what life can be like. She needs to know there’s more to life than fear and running.”

I close my eyes. His words hurt. I don’t like to think about Lanny being unhappy. But I’d rather her be unhappy than hurt or, even worse, dead.

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” Sam adds.

“I know.” And I also know he’s right. I can’t keep her protected forever. I can’t keep putting her life on hold because of our past. She has to find a way to live her life despite the threats in the world. Otherwise, they win. “You going to see her today?”

His voice brightens. “There’s apparently a tea this afternoon in the college’s botanical garden for prospective parents and their kids. I’m guessing it’s so they can show off where all that tuition money goes.”

I try to force the fear and paranoia from my voice. “Ooh, a tea, how fancy. I hope you packed the appropriate attire.”

“I figured I’d show up in my ripped camo shorts, stained tee-shirt, and flip flops, really embrace the roll of embarrassing father figure.”

“Still got her biological father beat by miles.”

He chuckles. “Low bar.”

I smile. “And you clear it admirably.”

“Speaking of our kids, how’s Connor?”

I groan, not really sure how to answer him. I’ve had a hard time reading my son recently. “When I asked him this morning he said he’sfine.”

“You’re still worried.”

“Of course I am. He just saw his best friend shoot two other friends at school. He shouldn’t be fine after that. No one should be.”

“He’s been through a lot. He’s a strong kid.”

I feel my throat tighten, a familiar rage and sorrow squeezing my heart. “He’s a kid. He shouldn’t have to be that strong. He shouldn’t just be able to take something like that in stride.”

“I know. He’ll find a way through it.” He sounds so confident in our son. I let myself believe him, because I want to have that kind of faith in Connor as well.

We chat a few more minutes before he has to go take a shower and find breakfast. Once we hang up, I continue sitting in the cafe garden, enjoying the coffee and taking the opportunity to scour through Juliette Larson’s social media profiles.

Neither of my kids are allowed on social media — it’s too much of a risk and opens them up to too many online trolls — and while I know how important social media is to most kids, I’m still overwhelmed by the sheer volume of Juliette’s presence online. There’s not an outfit that isn’t photographed, a meal that isn’t detailed, an event that isn’t memorialized. There are thousands of posts.

Scrolling through it all, I get a much better picture of Juliette than I had from any other source. Here she is in her own words and photos, documenting what’s important to her. Unsurprisingly, her two best friends, Willa and Mandy, show up in many of the posts. Selfies of them in the lunchroom at school, in bikinis at the lake the summer before, all made up and ready to go out to a school dance. In most of them they’re posing, very deliberate with the image they’re presenting to the world.

Willa, with her frizz of yellow hair, often has a slightly surprised look on her face. And perhaps it would seem genuine if she didn’t sport the same expression in well over half the photos. Mandy cycles through a handful of expressions: sticking her tongue out, flashing a peace sign, quirking an eyebrow. Juliette is almost always smiling, though even that appears practiced.

---