Chapter 4: Daniel's Brother

Hoyt came down the stairs one step at a time, with a hand on the rail.

"Cavan, it's six in the morning. Let me call Danielle first."

"I've been calling Danielle for two years," Cavan said. "She doesn't pick up."

He said it without heat.

That was what made Hoyt look at the floor.

"Otto's at a motel on Route 9," Hoyt said. "She's been through a lot this week."

"Which motel?"

"I'll drive you."

"No. Tell me the name, and I'll take a cab."

Hoyt told him.

Then he grabbed his keys and went out the door past both of us, and a moment later I heard his car start.

Cavan watched the taillights go.

"He's going to warn her," he said.

"Yes."

"I'd do the same, in his place."

I took the chain off the door.

"You can wait in here if you want. I don't know you, but I know your brother's wedding photo."

He nearly smiled.

"Daniel hated that photo. He said he looked drunk."

"He was holding a beer."

"He was holding three."

I made coffee, because my hands needed something to do.

Cavan sat at my kitchen table with his boots flat on the floor and his bag under the chair, looking at the bank statement I had left there.

I snatched it up too late.

"Sorry," he said. "I saw the name."

"It's all right."

"Twenty-four hundred a month to Danielle."

"For two years."

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