Millie pulled up a chair at the end of the booth. She looked from the boy to Rosie, then to Grim, seeking permission in neither man nor child but measuring what the moment required. "Honey," she said gently, "what's your mother's name?" Ethan paused.
"Sarah. Sarah Cole." His voice changed when he said her name, losing some of its careful flatness. For one instant he sounded exactly his age.
"And where is Sarah tonight?" Millie asked. Ethan glanced toward the door, then at the salt shaker, then back toward his sister. "At home," he said.
"At the trailer. Unless he moved her." The final four words seemed to scrape his throat as they came out. Grim stopped leaning back against the booth.
"Who's he?" Grim asked. Ethan put his fork down. He waited until Rosie was concentrating on her soup before answering.
"Clay Mercer," he said. "He's the man who lives with us." He did not call Clay his father, and he did not call him his mother's boyfriend. He said the name as if naming the man might make him appear.
Millie's face lost color. She knew Clay Mercer through the same fragments that everybody around Kingman knew: the small transport business that moved goods by night, the private property north of Wikieup that nobody approached without being invited, the money that seemed to reach every official conversation before the citizens involved could finish speaking. She knew people lowered their voices when his name arose. She knew women who had worked near his place tended not to answer questions about it. Until that night, she had known those things separately. Hearing the name from a hungry child made them join together.
Grim had heard the name too. He knew a man who owed Clay money, knew a road Clay's trucks used more often than a legitimate business would require, and knew which deputy's cruiser was repeatedly seen near his property. But his knowledge was incomplete, made up of observations rather than proof. Grim was accustomed to acting on what he could establish. It had kept him alive and, at different times in his life, had kept him from doing the right thing.
"He hurt your mother?" Grim asked. Ethan did not answer right away. He looked toward Rosie, whose eyelids were becoming heavy over the soup, and lowered his voice.
"She's tried to leave three times. The last time he told the hospital she fell down steps." He paused. "We don't have steps at the trailer."
The sentence settled over the table. It was plain enough that no one needed further explanation. Millie reached for the back of the empty chair, gripping it harder than she intended.
Grim asked, "When did you see your mother last?" Ethan looked at the clock above the grill and began calculating. "About three in the morning. She woke me up."