course,” Anna told her.
Gracie headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Candace called after her.
“Out.” Gracie grabbed her coat from the entry closet and yanked open the door.
“I’d better go after her.” Candace apologized again and followed Gracie outside.
“Whew.” Angel set her napkin beside her plate. “That was interesting.”
“Gracie is a brat.” Brian pierced several romaine leaves with his fork and stuffed them into his mouth.
“Mama says it’s because she’s a teenager and her ’mones get mixed up,” Dorothy said.
“Not ’mones. Hormones.” Brian picked up his milk and chugged the rest of it down. “And that’s just a dumb excuse. Dad said.”
“She’s upset and rightly so.” Anna stood and began picking up the dishes.
Angel got up to help. Gracie had an attitude. But she also had a point. Apparently Gracie prided herself on being honest. How much of Candace’s grief was genuine? How much an act?
Angel had almost finished clearing the table when Candace and Gracie came back in. They seemed to have worked things out between them. Gracie was more subdued, though she didn’t apologize for her outburst.
After taking off their coats, Candace sent Gracie into Angel’s old room to do her homework, then turned on the television set for Brian and Dorothy. Once the kids were settled, she came into the kitchen, offering to help Anna clean up so Angel could make a run out to the farm. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I like to have the little ones in bed by 8:00. That gives them some time to read before lights-out.”
Angel gladly handed over the dishtowel. “Is Gracie okay?”
“She’s upset and angry. I understand that.” Candace frowned. “She didn’t mean what she said. You know how kids her age can be. Their emotions are all over the board.”
Angel didn’t remember being that volatile, but then she hadn’t had an abusive father. And her father hadn’t been murdered. But Gracie’s reaction did concern Angel. Not all that long ago, she’d read about a case in which a fourteen-year-old girl had murdered her mother in a fit of rage. And another in which a thirteen-year-old boy had killed his parents in cold blood because they wouldn’t let him go to a party.
“He deserved to die,” Gracie had said. Thinking about the comment now and the hard look that went with it sent a chill through Angel. Had Gracie’s anger reached the boiling point? Had she killed her father?
NINE
Wednesday, May 7
Dear Dr. Campbell,
My joy at ridding the world of one more abuser was short-lived as I watched the news tonight and saw the horrific details of the murdered girl from Florence. My heart aches when I think of the cruelty that poor child endured at the hands of her killer. Oh, dear God, why couldn’t I have known? Why couldn’t I have been there to stop him?
I know I shouldn’t beat myself up over it. Like you’ve often said, you can’t fix everything or everyone. You have to choose your battles. Perhaps that’s the hardest part, choosing one’s battles. It’s too late for poor Christy, so I must focus on those women I can help, the women right here in Sunset Cove. There are so many to choose from—so hard to determine which abuser will be the next to die.
Dragonslayer
TEN
A ngel called Nick to let him know she was on her way out to the farm to return the squad car and to pick up clothing for Candace and the kids for their overnight stay. He told her it was about time.
Nick stood on the porch, eyeing her when she drove up, then coming down the steps to meet her.
“How’s it going?” She stepped out of the car and shut the door.
“Slow. Have to hand it to these people, they’re thorough. We should be wrapping things up soon. At least for the night.” He gave his watch an impatient glance. “I hope.” He stretched and rubbed the back of his neck, stretching the blue uniform tight across his muscular chest.
“Poor baby,” she