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sirens tear up the sunrise, the blat and confusion of some new emergency. Warning? Warning.
    Trouble out there somewhere.
    He is up and running too fast for thought to catch up, shaken, worried and wondering.
    Where?

 
    2
    Merrill Poulnot
    Yesterday morning
    Nobody saw this coming.
    Waking up in our usual lives on Kraven island yesterday, who knew? Lying there with Davy, doing everything we loved to do, I didn’t have a clue. When we’re linked, we’re one body; when we’re apart, we’re like twins separated at birth— if one of us is hurt, the other flinches, but now …
    Who knew? How could anybody know?
    Look at us the way we were, lounging in the sweet morning air, lazy islanders getting up to go about our business: Davy and me lying close, the hundred other souls stirring around us hitting the snooze alarm, putting off the usual things— making coffee, putting out the dog. We were so ordinary.
    Yesterday.
    Yesterday I was troubled by certain things, but nothing that hasn’t worried me every day since I moved out on Father and left my little brother there with him. Ned won’t have the same problem, I told myself; boys don’t, but I felt shitty about it. He was only six. I put sweet old Patrice in place to make sure of it, she was with us before Neddy was born, before Mother left us in the middle of the night. I ran away to save my life. I had to separate, rent a room and find a job, get into college— with funding— and come back strong enough to turn three lives around. I started with mine.
    â€œPatrice will take care of you.” I gave Neddy a phone. I showed him how to use it, walked him through a list of things to do in case of this, in case of that, thinking, Thank God he’s not a girl. He was so grown up, reciting the list, all smart and proud. I promised to come see him every day, and I did. Patrice will know what happens before it happens, I told myself; Patrice will take care of him, and she did, and I checked on them daily. I went to junior college in Charlton so I could get back to the house every night, and by the time I went to State, Ned was tough enough to handle Father— and we had Patrice. We talked every night. On the phone with people you love, you can tell whether they’re lying or not. It’s in that vibe, or hesitation: some offbeat note in the voice.
    Neddy doesn’t lie, and Patrice can’t. Every time I came home I looked for evidence: One mark on my kid brother and I come down on him with the full force of the law. I thought, Child Services. I thought, The courts won’t care who Father is or who his people were, when I graduate, Neddy will come to live with me. I thought once I had the job, got this house, the court would let Ned decide, but I was wrong. I’m too young, I’m living with a man, we’re not married, bad influence. QED. Meanwhile Father’s at Trinity every Sunday, front row, kneeling on the spot where the first Poulnots knelt down to pray: solid citizen, the last in a long, long line of Hampton Poulnots. Until he stepped down for reasons he won’t talk about, he was a judge.
    I love my brother, but given what came down after Mother left, I can’t be there at night. Instead I go every day, assess the situation. Make mental notes, one of those things I can’t tell Davy about, or won’t, never let the people hear you grind your teeth . Yesterday I found Father at the kitchen table with his TELL IT TO THE JUDGE coffee mug and his oatmeal, everyday Father, making the smile he uses when he knows he is being watched, sweet old man, wouldn’t hurt a fly.
    â€œWhere’s Neddy?”
    He looks up: Oh, it’s you. “What?”
    Things have always been bad between us. “Ned. You know, Edward Poulnot, your only son?”
    â€œAt that damn computer, he’s always at that damn confuser— I mean computer. If he’s playing those games I’ll go up