How do they think I feel? Turning to Everett, I say, “Does anyone know about this apartment? Can Bonnie stay here?”

“It’s leased in my name, but my . . . partner, Adele, her brother has a cabin in Whistler that’s vacant. He’s never there, so she has full use of the place.” At the mention of his partner, he glances at Lynn, then Bonnie. Neither seem perturbed. A certain tension in him, one that’s not related to his daughter’s safety, releases.

“I can work remotely for a little while,” Lynn says. “Ev, is there Wi-Fi at this cabin? And is it okay with Adele if I stay there as well?”

“I’ll check with her, but it shouldn’t be a problem. It’s got four bedrooms, so you’ll have privacy. I can come up on the weekends. And there’s Wi-Fi, of course. Who can live without it?”

“How soon can you guys pack up and get there?” I ask, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice.

Everett looks at the clock. “We can leave tonight after the traffic slows.”

“Okay, I’ll come with you.”

“That’s not necessary,” Lynn says, rightly assuming that being in my presence is dangerous.

Bonnie shakes her head. “No, I want her to come up with us, Mom. Please?”

If there’s one thing parents of an only child can’t resist, it’s their one child. They’ve got no others to put their hopes on if the relationship goes sour. As both Lynn and Everett know, because they agree quickly.

“I’ll be back later,” I say, rising from the kitchen table. Bonnie brushes her hair off her neck, then immediately pulls it forward again. She’s too late. I’ve already seen the red bruise there. She meets my eyes and gives me a quick darting smile. Neither of her parents notice the hickey or the smile.

She follows me to the door. There’s something on her mind.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Do you remember something?”

“No, it’s not that. I’m just . . . I don’t know why a person would want to hurt someone else. How could you want to kill?” she asks. “Not like an accident or that you’re defending yourself. But really want to cause harm.”

“I think you just have to be capable of it. It has to be inside you.”

“I don’t think it’s inside me. I’m not . . . I’m not like that. I could never hurt someone.”

She’d be surprised at what she’s capable of. And maybe one day she’ll have to test that theory. But it’s not something I want for her.

I say softly, as gentle as I can, “I don’t think so, either.”

Then I walk away before she has too good a look at what’s inside of me.