Miranda sat up in bed. She looked at her dresser, wondered what she would use to carry her clothes. She didn’t even have a suitcase. They had never gone on a vacation. They’d never been anywhere. She could put some clothes in some paper bags. Two or three would probably do it. A couple pairs of jeans, a couple of tops, some underwear. She could get a job, make money, and buy some other clothes, maybe from a secondhand shop, maybe—

No, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t run away. She was only fifteen. As horrible as home was, it was still a haven. She knew bad things happened here, but she knew what the bad things were. If she ran off with Claire, what different bad things might happen? Would they be worse than the things she had to deal with now?

“I can’t do it,” Miranda said.

“I can’t just leave you here,” Claire said. Her eyes were moist with tears.

“Just go.”

Outside, they could hear a car coming to a stop. Claire glanced out the window, and the tears running down her cheeks glistened in the moonlight. It was Don. He was putting Claire’s paper bags of belongings into the trunk.

Claire threw her arms around her sister, and they were both crying now.

“Soon,” Miranda said. “I’ll try to leave soon.”

Claire sniffed, wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I’ll help you. Whatever you need, anything, I’ll help you. I will always help you, no matter what.”

“I love you,” Miranda said.

“I love you too,” Claire said, and then she slipped out of the room.

Miranda watched from the window as Claire ran down to the road. Don threw his arms around her, opened the passenger door of his old Camaro for her, and then they drove off into the night.

Miranda did not cry long. You’re on your own, she told herself. Start getting used to it.

5

BACK AT THE OFFICE, I banged out the stun gun story after first placing a couple of calls, one to the chair of the police commission to see what her reaction was to officers meeting with a guy who was selling stun guns when such weapons were not approved for use.

“Go on the Net and read up on these things,” she advised.

A number of stories came out of Florida. A disabled man in line at a theme park, disgruntled because he’s had to wait so long, gets zapped with a stun gun by a security guard. A twelve-year-old girl, skipping school, is located by authorities hanging out at a swimming pool, smoking. When she tries to run away, she’s stun-gunned. A father who gets hold of one illegally uses it to keep his three kids in line. An off-duty cop pulls out his stun gun and shoots a buddy who’d just beat him at poker.

Just for a moment, I imagined the advantages a stun gun might offer an exasperated parent. And I recalled a comment Sarah once made, upon hearing a radio newscaster say, “Police do not understand why the mother of three small children snapped and wiped out her entire family.” She said, “Well, there’s your answer. She’s the mother of three small children.”