Safer by Sean Doolittle Page B

looked like. She had her nose in a book the whole trip.”
    She’d just described me as a teenager. “Well, talking about books,” I said, “I’ve got a couple thousand of my own that still need unpacking over here.”
    “Did you say thousand?”
    “A couple thousand, yeah.”
    “Wow.”
    “She’s been browsing titles for the past ten minutes or so.”
    “Paul, I’m sorry. She’s not exactly shy. Just tell her I said to come home, will you?”
    “No, not at all, it’s perfectly fine, I was just going to ask. Does she have a summer job?”
    “She watches her little sister in the mornings,” Melody said. “And she sits Trish and Barry’s twins whenever they ask. But that’s about it. Why?”
    “Well, I was thinking I’d be willing to pay her if she wanted to help shelve this mess. That is, if you and Pete think it would be okay.”
    “Really?”
    “I’m sure she’s got better things to do with her summer.”
    “Not this week, she doesn’t. She’s grounded.”
    “So I heard. Maybe it’s a bad idea?”
    “I think it’s a great idea, Paul. We’re pulling each other’s hair out over here.
I
should pay
you.”
    After hanging up, I ran the idea past Brittany, who said, “You’d pay me?”
    “Absolutely,” I said.
    “How much?”
    “How much do you charge?”
    She seemed to think about it. “Twenty bucks an hour.”
    “I was thinking more like five.”
    Brittany narrowed her eyes. “Five bucks an hour, and I get to borrow whatever I want.”
    “Done.”
    She had a pretty smile. “Cool.”
    As she was leaving, I said, “Hey, Brittany. Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
    “Brit,” she said. “What’s the question?”
    “How come you’re grounded, anyway?”
    She waved her hand in the air like the whole thing was too boring for words. “I bought this bikini with my allowance. Dad and Melody told me to take it back, but I didn’t. Melody caught me wearing it at the pool.”
    Melody,
I thought. As in, not
Mom.
I said, “Oh.”
    “Yeah. What’s the big deal, right?”
    It didn’t seem like an especially big deal, but I wasn’t the one to say.
    “Melody thinks I can’t wear a two- piece until I’m sixteen. It’s super- cute, too. They’re so uptight.”
    That made me pause. I said, “Can I ask you another question?”
    “Sure.”
    “When do you turn sixteen?”
    “In forever,” she said. “I’ll be fourteen in January.”
    Jesus,
I remember thinking.
Poor Pete.
    My mother would have called Brit Seward an early bloomer. Bikinigate suddenly made a whole new kind of sense. I’d already noticed the way the Sentinel One guys had traded grins and glances when Brit arrived, her sun- lightened hair up in a ponytail. She’d been dressed for hot weather that day: denim cutoffs, flip- flop sandals, a snug- fitting tank top which stretched in ways that create problems for everyone. I’d noticed the way the workers kept stealing glances.
    Had I stolen a couple myself?
    “Do me a favor,” I said.
    “Sure, maybe.”
    “Don’t buy any swimsuits with the money I pay you, okay?”
    She laughed. “Are you serious?”
    “Your dad looks like the kind of guy I wouldn’t want mad at me.”
    She rolled her eyes. “He’s totally harmless.”
    “If you say so.”
    “Melody’s the one you don’t want mad at you.”
    “I don’t want either of them mad at me.”
    “Fine,” she said. “I promise I’ll only use the money you pay me to buy drugs.”
    “Terrific,” I said.
    “And condoms if I run out.”
    “I appreciate that.”
    She grinned. I grinned. We seemed to understand each other. Brittany went home, and I went back to work.
    By the time Sara returned from her meeting on campus, Sentinel One had finished installing the new alarm system, which included magnetic strips on all the windows, pressure plates on all the doors, keypads wired directly to the Sentinel One response center, and motion- activated exterior lighting all the way around the house. Which