“Come on, you can do this,” Mason said, leaning over the kitchen table. He kept a close eye on the bacon hissing in the pan just a few feet away. The rest of his attention was on his six-year-old son, who was already proving to be a keen learner.
“George… Bush?” MJ asked, his little forehead wrinkling up.
“That’s right. Next?”
“Bill Clinton?”
Mason nodded and smiled, pride overwhelming him. “Good. Write it down, then get ready for breakfast, or you’re going to be late.”
MJ hurried to scribble in the mess of notebooks before him. Mason helped by closing a couple of them and sliding them into the Marvel backpack that hung on the back of the kitchen chair. Doing this left him with an uneasy sensation of dread. It felt like only yesterday his little boy’s main focus was on bright colors and cartoons about talking dogs. Now, MJ was already worshipping patriotic superheroes while also being able to recite the names of every US president in order. Well, almost all of them.
The grill steamed and spat at him from across the room. Mason snatched up the fork and rushed to the grill, pushing the meat around while waving smoke away from his face. It smelled like it had burned, but it hadn’t. That meant he was doing better than last week.
“Dad?” MJ said.
“Yes, kiddo?”
“Didn’t you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Someone’s at the door.”
Mason hesitated, then swore under his breath. He juggled his tasks with all the grace of a one-legged ballerina, carrying the frying pan to the table and scooping two strips of bacon onto the plate. They made a splat as they hit the scrambled eggs he’d set there only minutes ago. With that taken care of, he dumped the pan into the sink and rushed through the house toward the front door. He could already see the outline of his friend through the pane of glass.
That alone was enough to ruin his day.
“Is now a good time?” Detective Bill Harvey asked from the doorstep. His face was drained of its usual color. Now he looked like Casper the Friendly Ghost. If Casper had a five-o’clock shadow, that was.
“It’s never a good time,” Mason said, stepping outside and pulling the door to. He sighed, the weight of the world suddenly squeezing all the air from his lungs. What came next was what he’d been dreading for weeks. Ever since he had received a letter from a man they had killed years ago. But that didn’t make it any less real.
“Can Diane take MJ to school today?”
“She won’t like it,” Mason told him.
“She doesn’t have to.”
“Is it as bad as we thought?”
“Worse.”
Mason swore as he leaned against the doorjamb. He folded his arms and stared down at the ground. He should have known this happy new family situation was too good to last. It was already hard enough to convince Diane she was safe without his greatest demons coming back to haunt him. Now there was nothing he could do but wait to see what happened.
“I’ll get my coat.”