“Hell, yeah. Marsten’s not stupid. He knows you don’t quash a threat by tossing out warnings, maybe break a bone or two. Kill a few mutts and word gets around: don’t tread on Karl Marsten’s territory.”

“And in this case, Karl’s territory would be Hope.”

“But killing these kids doesn’t send a message to anyone except Hope and, as cold as that bastard can be, I can’t see him doing that. Could he have gone to scare the kid and things got out of hand? Maybe. Or if he felt that he could lose Hope to some kid she just met? Doesn’t sound likely, but who knows. You aren’t asking me if I thought he did it, but whether he could. Short answer: hell, yeah. Now, about this job Hope’s doing. Does Elena know? ’Cause she’ll feel out of the loop if—”

A whisper. Elena.

“One sec,” Clay said.

He didn’t bother covering the receiver.

“Time to go,” I heard Elena say. “Parent and tot swim starts this morning, remember?”

Clay let out an obscenity.

“Is that a no?”

“That’s a ‘why the hell can’t we just buy a pool?’”

“We can, but this has nothing to do with swimming lessons and everything to do with social interaction.”

Another, stronger epithet.

I considered hanging up, but if I did, Clay would call me back, annoyed, never understanding that I’d consider it rude to be privy to a private conversation.

“They love being around other children,” Elena continued. “Did you see them at the playground last week, Kate toddling after the older kids?”

“She was stalking them.”

A sputtered curse, from Elena this time. “She’s eighteen months old! She was not—”

“Classic stalking behavior.”

“And I suppose Logan hiding in the bushes was part of the ruse. She’d steer them into the trap, then he’d spring out—”

“Shit, I never thought of that.”

An exasperated groan, then a sharp “Hey!” from Clayton, probably as he got a poke or pinch. The phone line crackled.

“Lucas?” It was Elena. “Please excuse Clay’s rudeness, again.”

“That’s quite all right. Tell him I’ll talk to him later.”

“I’ll have him call you back…if spending an hour in a pool crowded with humans doesn’t traumatize him too much.”

“It makes me uncomfortable,” Clay said in the background. “It does not—”

“Bye, Lucas.”

“Good-bye, Elena.”

The line went dead.

HOPE BIRTHDAY PRESENTS

HOPE

BIRTHDAY PRESENTS

I woke alone, and flashed back to that Valentine’s “morning after.” This had better not be another case of next-day jitters. While his explanation of that next day made the memory less painful, I wasn’t enduring round two.