The Searcher - Tana French Page 0,132

in her head. “Here you go,” he says, bringing the plates to the table. “Cut it up small, and don’t let it touch that lip. The salt’ll sting.”

Trey ignores that and attacks the food, still keeping a wary eye on Cal. Her hand is better; she holds the fork clumsily, trying not to bend her fingers, but she’s using it.

“Miss Lena just left a few minutes back,” Cal says. “She’s got work. She might be back later, depending.”

Trey says brusquely, “Sorry I came here. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“No,” Cal says. “Don’t be sorry. You did right.”

“Nah. You told me not to be coming around any more.”

All of Cal’s relationships, which seemed perfectly straightforward and harmonious last night, appear to have got themselves out of joint while he wasn’t looking. Never mind Brendan Reddy: the real mystery to which Cal would love an answer is how, while doing everything right as far as he can tell, he somehow manages to fuck everything up.

“Well,” he says. “This was an emergency. That’s different. You called it right.”

“I’ll go after this.”

“No hurry. Before you go anywhere, we need to decide what you want me to do.”

Trey looks blank.

“About last night. You want me to call the police? Or CPS—child protective services, whatever you call it?”

“No!”

“CPS isn’t the boogeyman, kid. They’ll find you somewhere safe to stay for a while. Maybe get your mama some help.”

“She doesn’t need help.”

The kid is glaring, holding her knife like she’s all ready to stab Cal with it. “Kid,” he says gently. “What she did to you wasn’t OK.”

“She never done that before. She only done it this time ’cause they made her.”

“So what if they make her again?”

“They won’t.”

“ ’Cause what? You learned your lesson, now you’re gonna behave yourself?”

“None a your business,” Trey says, with a defiant glance.

“I’m asking you, kid. I need to figure out what to do here.”

“You don’t need to do anything. If you call child services, I’ll tell ’em you done this.”

She means it, too. “OK,” Cal says. Seeing this amount of fight out of her makes his spine go weak with relief. He got up this morning afraid to see her in case he found her smashed inside, a girl-husk that stared right through him, that had to be steered stumbling from place to place and sat with a bite in her mouth till she was reminded to chew and swallow. “No child services.”

Trey eyeballs him for another minute. Apparently she believes him, because she goes back to her food. She says, “I know that was all bullshit, what you told me. About Bren going to Scotland. So’s I’d fuck off and leave you alone.”

Cal gives up. Whatever he was trying to do there, it hasn’t worked. “Yeah,” he says. “Donie gave me sweet fuck-all. Only I was bullshitting you about the leave-me-alone part, too. Truth is, I got no problem with you coming around. I enjoy your company.”

Trey looks up at that. She says, “I don’t want your fucking money.”

“I know that, kid. I never thought you did.”

She goes still, rearranging her mind around that. The loosening in her face hooks Cal right under the breastbone. “So how come you said all that shite?” she demands.

“For Christ’s sake, kid. You think no one noticed what the two of us were up to? I got warned to back off. This right here”—he points his fork at Trey’s face—“this is exactly what I was trying to avoid.”

Trey gives an impatient hitch of her shoulders. “It’s no big deal. I’ll be grand.”

“This time, you will. Because they got your mama to do it, and she only went as far as she thought would satisfy them. Next time, they’ll go after you themselves. Or after your mama. Or your little brother and sisters. Or me. These are serious guys, doing serious business. They don’t fuck around. They didn’t kill you because they don’t want the attention a dead kid would get, but they will if they have to.”

The kid blinks fast at that. She goes back to shoveling food into her face, head down.

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Cal says, suddenly right on the edge of blowing up. “What the fuck is it gonna take to make you knock it off?”

Trey says, “When I know. For definite. Not some bullshit that someone made up to get rid of me.”

“Yeah? That’s all you want? Just to know for certain?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t work like that. If you find out for certain that Brendan skipped town, you’re gonna want to

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