And the guilt he’d felt for not being there for his daughter had been hidden away in some cerebral safe, not the cruddy type that hotels use but the kind made from drill-killing hard plate and antijack bolts. And that safe was set in the floor of a tiny closet, guarded by roaches and spiders, never to be opened, forgotten in a forgotten house.

But now his daughter’s racking sobs raced through that old house, swept away the cobwebs, smashed the safe asunder with a clang and—

“Abby, stop!”

He went to her, flying across the room. “Abby, please stop!”

She couldn’t though. She didn’t think she could ever stop now that she’d started. He held her tight and turned her head against his chest.

“It’s OK.” The words were choked and broken as he began to cry with her.

“I thought I’d lost you, and I love you, Abby. I’m so sorry. I went off the rails, and I just couldn’t seem to get back.”

Spencer promised he would never leave her again, either in heart or actuality. It was a promise made with the best will in the world.

And one that wouldn’t be kept.

Spencer lifted Abby’s sleeping head and slid a pillow underneath it.

He went into the hallway. Chris’s door was closed. He cracked it and peeked in. Chris lay on the bed, down for the count. His face looked gray and unwell. Guilt burned Spencer’s gut. He went to the bathroom.

He looked in the mirror and saw himself looking back but not as he usually did, as in how rough or tired he looked or how much coffee, coke, or showering he’d need to get himself ready to walk out and face his fellow humans. Rather he saw his real self, in all its unimpressive, damaged glory. And he could hear himself, too, the self that had been screaming at him through the impenetrable glass up on Royal Oak.

His face disappeared as he opened the mirrored door. He looked at his “legit” meds: the antidepressants, the Vicodin and diazepam, the nicotine patches and the beta-blockers.

He took out the nicotine patches, trying to work out if he’d ever used more than two consecutively. They went in the trash. He popped antidepressants one by one into the toilet. He did the same with all the other stuff and then, calmly, he pulled the flush.

Next he started packing for all three of them. Johnny Boy watched with mild interest as he went back and forth, loading Penny. Eventually the only things left to go in the car were Chris and Abby. Spencer stood in front of Johnny Boy.

“I need to go and pay the rent and get our deposit back.”

“It’s done.”

Spencer nodded. “OK, we’re ready.”