The Murderer's Daughter

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Authors: Jonathan Kellerman
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chocolate now and the Fudgsicle was tasting like liver and she didn’t want it anymore.
    It had been her entire dinner but she wasn’t hungry.
    Across the cramped trailer, Ardis was sitting on his butt, dazed, and Dodie was laughing at him. And then both of them were laughing and Dodie was pulling him up and he was touching her booby and she was touching his zipper.
    The two of them drunk-waltzed toward their sleeping space, Dodie yanking at the curtain as she giggled and got dragged along by Ardis. The curtain only closed part of the way and if Grace had wanted to, she could’ve seen everything.
    Wiping her face with a piece from one of the toilet paper rolls Ardis stole from the McDonald’s, she left the single-wide and walked into the night.
    Not even having to do it quietly; no one was interested in her.
    She covered a few feet, found a spot in the dry dirt where she could sit, and swabbed away blood with paper napkins until all that was left was a copper-penny taste in her mouth.
    The air was cold. Sounds came from other trailers, most of them electronic. Grace shivered. Opened her mouth and created her own little breeze whistling through the new space in her mouth.
    —
    After that fight, Ardis wasn’t around much and sometimes Dodie muttered complaints about him to Grace, because no one else was around to listen. “Good riddance to bad rubbish. Know what that means?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “What?” Dodie demanded. She’d just fooled with the trailer’s chemical toilet and everything smelled bad and Dodie had got stuff on her hands and cussed like crazy. All that made her super grumpy and when she got like that she always demanded Grace say what she wanted her to say.
    “What?” she repeated. “You tell me right now what that means.”
    “You’re happy he’s not here.”
    “Yeah,” Dodie conceded. “But it’s more than that, you’re a kid, you don’t get it.”
    “Get what?” said a voice from the door and there was Ardis, carrying a bucket of fried chicken. He shot a quick glance at Grace and raised his eyebrows, as if surprised she was still around. Then he gave Dodie a long look and did that wiggly thing with his hips and swung the bucket.
    Dodie clamped her hands on
her
hips and didn’t move them at all. The more Ardis wiggled, the stiffer she got. Sniffing her fingers, she cursed and frowned and washed some more. “Well, look what the wind blew in. Figures.”
    “Hey, dinner.” Ardis wrinkled his nose. “Stinks like shit in here.”
    “Yeah, well, that’s what it’s like in a luxury condo.” Dodie eyed the bucket. “You’re at KFC, now? They kick your ass out of Mickey D?”
    “Nah, still Mickey D, but I got connections.”
    “Connections for some fuckin’ chicken.” Dodie curled a finger. “Whoopy doo.”
    “Breasts and thighs.” Ardis winked. Checked to see if Grace had noticed. She had but she’d turned around to pretend she hadn’t.
    “Breasts and thighs, thighs and breasts,” said Dodie, with lightness in her voice.
    “Uh-huh.”
    The two of them shuffled off to the sleeping space, Ardis taking time to put the bucket on the kitchenette counter.
    Grace went outside. When she passed Mrs. Washington’s trailer, Mrs. Washington was having a sober evening and called out, “Child? C’mere,” and gave Grace a rib from a batch she’d cooked yesterday on her outdoor grill made out of an oil can.
    “Thank you.”
    “Least I can do, you living with those…never mind, go on and find yourself a place to eat.”
    Grace didn’t settle, she just walked around the trailer park, eating the rib. Gnawing on the bone well after she’d stripped it of meat. Her tooth still hadn’t come in totally and the hot sauce made the hole Ardis’s fist had created weeks ago tingle and hurt.
    —
    When she returned to the single-wide, Ardis was inside sitting on a lawn chair with a bottle of whiskey and Dodie was cutting up chicken in the kitchenette.
    He looked mean and Grace stayed out of

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