One more theory and then I’ll quit—he’d never dare hit Opal. They come out of the pantry, his hand on her hip, her arm around his waist. I drape the cloth over the edge of the sink. Then he’s out the door. Opal says, smug as a cat, “I’m going back to bed.”

“We’ll be gone all day,” I say. She doesn’t bother asking where we’ll be.

I’ll have to take the ATV to Rolf’s again to keep up the pretence that we’re at the beach, the library, or the mall. Still, I got off easy this morning; Floyd could have socked me, to keep me in line. Or, to use his phrase, as punishment for an infraction.

As Opal climbs the stairs, I lay the paper flat to dry. Once their bedroom door shuts, I say, the words like stones in my throat, “Cassie, you haven’t told Rolf or Marigold about Floyd, have you? About the bad stuff he does?”

“Nope.”

“I should’ve warned you. You mustn’t tell them, or Tully. Promise?”

She nods, twiddling Rover’s ear.

“From now on,” I add, “you’d better wait and have breakfast with me.”

She nods again. She’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, none too clean, but I’m not about to have her change them. “I’ll make toast and we’ll go to Marigold’s place.”

So that’s what we do.

3.3 [three’s a crowd]

MARIGOLD’S OUT on the step, sitting in the sun with her coffee, the puppy curled at her feet. “Hi, Brick, hi, Cassie. I made blueberry pancakes, want some?”

Cassie’s eyes light up. “Yep.”

My mouth’s watering. “Nah, gotta finish the scraping.”

Last night I left the ladder out back. When I go around the corner, Tully and Glenn are standing there, each gripping one end of it. I hold tight to my temper. Can’t touch smart-ass Glenn Semple here.

Tully says, “I’ve been watching you. Acting so nice to your little sister. Stroking Caramel. Why did you throw rocks at Igor that day?”

“Gimme the ladder—I’ve got work to do.”

“We’re not letting go until you tell us.”

Three months ago. Floyd trashing me all the way back from the rink because I got a penalty for high-sticking. I throw on a jacket and stomp down the road. No sign of Glenn, but here’s this stupid greyhound looking happy as can be in his fenced enclosure. Green vinyl chain-link fence with tall metal posts.

The fence is what pushed me over the edge. Dog didn’t even have the smarts to jump over it. Always plenty of rocks on Hilchey River Road.

The same rage is vibrating along my limbs right now. “I only hit him twice. What’s all the fuss about?”