Damien quit staring at the screen. He couldn’t take his eyes off his son. Emotions welled up as he watched him talk.

Hunter glanced at him. “What’s wrong?”

His voice cracked. “I’m just proud of you. You’re amazing.”

Hunter looked away. “It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal. Does Jenna know?”

“Yeah, I’m sure she does. It’s hard to hide from this kind of thing.”

“No, I mean, does she know what you’re doing for her?”

“Please don’t tell her. She’d freak out and get all emotional and stuff. And who wants a little brother handling your bullies, you know?”

Damien nodded. “I see what you mean.”

“So this stays here?”

“I promise.”

“Thanks. Oh, and I promise I won’t tell anyone about your porn problem.”

“What? No! No, there’s no porn problem. It was just an example. Those magazines, that was a long time ago, like when I was younger, way younger.” Damien took a breath. He was rambling.

An awkward moment passed. Hunter looked at Damien with a worried expression, indicating he thought there still might be some repercussions or perhaps new confessions.

“Finish up your homework,” Damien said, then walked out, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall for a moment, catching his breath and chuckling a little. Well, at least he got the pornography discussion out of the way.

He listened for the shower. It had stopped. He walked the length of the hallway to find the bathroom vacant. Jenna’s bedroom door was closed. He tapped lightly. “Jenna?”

No answer.

He hesitated before opening the door. He wasn’t sure he could go another round of “It’s pornography-wait, no, a MySpace page” again.

He nudged the door, cracking it open slightly, just enough to see the lights were off and Jenna was in her bed. She didn’t even stir.

“Jenna?” he whispered.

She didn’t respond. Her breathing was slow, peaceful.

He crept across the wood floor to the edge of her bed. He stared at her for a long time, remembering how he watched her sleep when she was a little girl, curled tightly around a giant panda he’d given her when she was four. He’d liked to watch her sleep, brush her tangled hair off her face, rub her cheek with the back of his hand.

He imagined, though, that now she was not quite the deep sleeper of her childhood.

Instead, he knelt down on the small, fluffy circle rug by her bed. As he clasped his hands together, the feeling of helplessness that caught him up in constant fear melted away. He knew he had no control over this situation, and there was nothing worse to feel than helplessness over a child.

But in the darkness of her room he was reminded that helplessness was often a portal to God, because rarely did the fragile, self-serving human pray for things in his complete control. He knew he’d been brought to his knees, and he willingly stayed there, his forehead laid against the side of her mattress. He prayed boldly, calling on the God he’d rarely thought about in the last few years. His small attempt at churchgoing was hardly enough to reconcile himself to his God. Yet he knew without a doubt, despite his absence, God would not be absent and that He was waiting even now to help.

“God help her,” Damien whispered. “God help me. Help us. Help Marlo.”

The bright morning sun brought only dark thoughts for Damien. As the smell of rich, fresh coffee wafted through the offices, Damien sat in his chair, contemplating revenge.

And there was so much to avenge for, he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around specifics for any of them. Instead, he played with the ideas, one after another, until he needed a refill on his coffee.

Walking to the break room, he remembered his prayer the night before, that God would help his daughter. He’d slept soundly, as if he were a small child handing over his biggest care to a parent. But with morning came a rush of anger and fear that had not left his side for a moment.

He’d thought he might talk to Jenna at breakfast, but she didn’t look in the mood for conversation, so he stayed silent. They all did.

Damien couldn’t just stand aside, though. He couldn’t watch his daughter be brutalized by other people’s words. As a kid who’d been bullied himself, he once wished they would’ve just beaten him with sticks and stones. It seemed far less painful than the words that followed him around like a torturing spirit.

It had lasted only one year, but it gave a lasting impression. In college he’d decided he would use words for good, not bad. That was the beginning of his journalism career.

Returning to his desk, he decided he was going to have to confront the principal and teachers and get this thing taken care of. Maybe these girls didn’t tie another girl up, but the fact that they continued to defend those who did was almost as disturbing.

He wondered if he should consult Kay. She wasn’t a confrontational person. But she also didn’t like having her children messed with. He hadn’t told Kay what he’d learned from Hunter. Not yet, anyway.

He grabbed his keys off the desk and lifted his jacket off the back of the chair. He couldn’t wait a second longer. He couldn’t watch his daughter suffer anymore.

His desk phone beeped, and a crackling voice came through. “Damien?”

“Yeah, Edgar?”

“I need you in my office.”

“Look, I was just getting ready to-”

“Now.”

Kay put on an aqua velour jogging suit. She messed with her hair for a moment and decided to take out her diamond earrings. She was not at all sure how to dress for this… whatever this was. She put on a small amount of makeup but no lipstick. She removed her watch and kept on only her wedding ring.

She lingered by the kitchen phone, wondering if she should call Damien, ask if this was the right thing to do. She picked up the phone but then heard a car in her driveway. Peeking through the kitchen window, she hung up the phone and grabbed her purse.

As Kay walked down the front steps of her home, her feet felt like lead. What was she doing? Why was she doing this? It seemed like such a bad idea, but here she was, opening the car door and sliding into the passenger’s seat like they were going for brunch.

“Hi,” Jill said with a sad smile.

“Hi.” Kay closed the door and clutched her purse on her lap.

“I’m so happy you said yes,” Jill said, reversing the car and backing out of the driveway. “I honestly didn’t think you would.”

Kay swallowed, trying to calm herself and rationalize this. Yet it still seemed like a bad idea. Perhaps it was curiosity that caused her to be here. Or maybe a hope that she could help solve Frank’s murder.

Kay tried to get comfortable. She was glad the windows were tinted.

“You don’t understand what it’s been like for me,” Jill said, staring forward as she drove. “Nobody will talk to me. People are leaving horrible messages on my answering machine, like I’m somehow involved. It’s been hell.”

“I’m sorry,” Kay said softly.

“And I hate him.” Her voice was steely, harsh. “I hate him so much.”

“You think he did it?”

Jill’s chin quivered. “Yes, I do. And that’s what we’re going to find out.”

Kay tried to take a silent, deep breath. “I’m here for you. I want to help in any way I can, but I still don’t understand why you asked me to come. How will this help?”

“You don’t understand the kind of man he is. He’s got this horrible, mean side to him. A side that’s out for himself and only himself. It’s what allows him to have this kind of affair without any regard for his family. It’s what makes me think he’s capable of doing what he did. But,” Jill said, glancing at Kay for an unusually long few seconds, “he is also someone else. He can be very charming. Very convincing. I’ve fallen for this side of him so many times.”