Chapter 12

“Not today, kiddo.”

He braced himself for a further argument, but instead Rowan shrugged with indifference.

“Guess I’ll go inside and play a game then.”

Before his father could protest, the fourteen-year-old turned and headed back towards the kitchen, leaving Jude alone in the yard with the rifle in his hand and the tin cans in the distance.

* * * *

Gently, she knocked against the closed door, the sound of music resounding from the other side, and, when there was no reply, turned the doorknob and stepped inside, hesitantly entering the room of her eldest child. She took in the posters that decorated the wall, the computer screen that glowed faintly in the morning light as it poured through the open window, and the shape of Charlie, sitting on the bed, resting against the wall, a book open in their lap.

“Hi, Charlie,” she said softly as she entered, “aren’t you going to see your father?”