Critical Pursuit by Janice Cantore

cigarette, blowing out a plume of smoke. “Your mom makes sense about some things.” He nodded to the book in his hands. “I’ve even been reading the Bible.”
    Suddenly frustration bit Brinna like a snake. The two people she loved most in the world suffering from the same delusion? What was going on here? “No, Milo, no. You’re too strong for that.”
    Milo sighed as if the world sat squarely on his shoulders, then put the book down. “Am I? All I know is that you and my son are the only people in this world I care about. I’ve taught you everything I know. But what if some of the things I passed on were wrong?”

9
    NIGEL DIDN’T MISS the next article about the dog cop. She’d actually shot someone. He whistled in admiration. He’d taken the paper to work with him and left it with his lunch. Right now his rent-paying job was in beach maintenance, a fancy name for outdoor custodian. He kept the beaches and marinas clean during the summer months. It was only a seasonal position, but it worked for Nigel.
    No one noticed the guy picking up trash from the sand and off the docks. The job facilitated his favorite pastime   —little-girl watching. He could snap a surreptitious picture now and again with his digital camera.
    It was a great gig.
    Careful not to linger because that might arouse suspicion, Nigel couldn’t help but notice a group of five little girls playing in the gentle, breakwater-regulated waves Long Beach was known for. They were all wearing two-piece suits, his favorite, and they were running in and out of the water, squealing with delight. Nigel loved to hear little girls squeal like that.
    The two moms weren’t watching very closely. One slept while the other had her nose buried in a book.
    Nigel emptied his trash bag into a bin without taking his eyes off the girls. He then ventured somewhat closer, picking up trash along the way. When neither mom reacted, he brought out his camera. Very carefully Nigel snapped three pictures, then slid the camera back into his pocket.
    Moving away, he kept watching the little girls from the corner of his eye. Would one of them be special enough for his dog-cop plans? he wondered. He doubted he’d be able to snatch one of them today. It’d be too hard to take one out of five, even if the moms were totally clueless. Instead, he decided he’d take his time, snap pictures, review them, and pick the next Special Girl very carefully.
    The dog cop deserved his best work.

10
    BRINNA SHUT OFF the AC and rolled the window down as she and Hero neared the coast of Long Beach and home. Taking a deep breath of warm, salt-water-smelling air, she sighed and tried to erase the frown she knew had creased her brow all morning.
    Uncomfortable memories of Milo’s strange demeanor the night before blunted the good coming-home feeling. Echoes of the conversation bouncing in her brain left her feeling uneasy, as if she’d put a shirt on backward and the tag were scratching her throat.
    The image of her hero and mentor reading the Bible and believing it was as incongruous as snow falling on the Hawaiian coastline. Milo had always been so confident in himself and his own beliefs that he’d never needed the crutch of religion. Why did he need it now?
    He wants to believe there is an all-powerful being in control of this world, she thought, working hard to wrap her mind around the concept. If there is such a being, I sure have a boneto pick with him. Shaking her head to banish the thought, she glanced in the rearview mirror at Hero.
    “Well, baby, we’re back near the ocean and out of the hot desert.” Brinna tapped the steering wheel in rhythm to an upbeat country tune Kenny Chesney sang, trying to force Milo’s moroseness from her mind.
    She’d been able to lift his mood only briefly. The subject of her shooting had stopped his introspection for a few minutes and he’d been the old Milo. He’d impressed upon her not to worry about it, to stick to the facts as they