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alone.
First he hugged her and assured her things would return to normal soon— yeah, right — then he asked, “So how’d it go in there?”
She didn’t answer right away, then said, “He made me look at the body.”
“What?” She could tell he was seriously upset. “Why the hell did he do that?”
She didn’t feel like talking to him about it. Things had been tense and awkward between them, well, for years, but since she’d graduated from college their relationship had become even more strained, what with him constantly on her case about getting a job and moving out on her own. Her plan had been to live at home temporarily, until she could support herself, so she’d gotten a part- time job at the Metropolitan Museum of Art through a contact from an art history professor. But she didn’t like her boss, and the job had had practically nothing to do with art— her main duty had been renting out tour head - phones— and after about a month she couldn’t take it anymore and quit. She’d been sending out résumés and going on interviews, but her father wouldn’t let up about the “big opportunity” she’d blown, and it was hard to even be in the same room with him sometimes.
“He wanted to see if I recognized him,” she said. “Whatever.” She was exhausted and really didn’t feel like talking anymore.
But her dad couldn’t let it go and said, “This is getting ridiculous now. There’s no way he should’ve made you do that, I mean what’s the point of that?” He shook his head, brooding, then asked, “Did he ask you about your bong too?”
God, Marissa didn’t want to be having this conversation right now, especially not in the middle of the night when she was so exhausted.
“Yeah,” she said, “but it was no big deal.”
“How many times have I told you to get rid of that thing?”
“You’ve never told me to get rid of it.”
“I told you I don’t want you smoking in the house.”
“I think I’ve smoked in the house twice since graduation, but if it bothers you so much I’ll stop.”
“And I don’t want you drinking in the house anymore either.”
“When do I drink in the house?”
“The other night— when you had Hillary and that guy over.”
“That guy was Hillary’s friend Jared, who’s in med school, and we were drinking wine. I think we had one glass each.”
“Well, I don’t want any drinking in the house anymore. Is that understood?”
“This is ridiculous,” Marissa said. “I didn’t do anything wrong. You’re just taking everything out on me.”
“Excuse me?” he said, raising his voice slightly.
“Like this has anything to do with my bong or drinking wine. This has to do with you and your gun.”
Her father looked at her the way he had so many times lately, like he hated her.
“Just go to bed,” he said.
“See?” she said. “I didn’t do anything wrong and you treat me like I’m ten years old.”
“When you act out like you’re ten I’ll treat you like you’re ten. Just go to bed.”
Realizing there was no point in arguing with her father when he got like this, she left the room. There were still a lot of cops near the front of the house, though it looked like they’d finally removed the body. Avoiding the commotion and, worse, another confrontation with that asshole Clements, she took the back staircase up to her room.
Lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, she suddenly remembered she’d given Detective Clements Darren’s contact info. She called Darren, leaving a frantic message, telling him that the cops had found pot in her room and he had to get all the drugs out of his apartment ASAP.
Back in bed, she put in her iPod earbuds and listened to tracks by Tone Def, this new alternative/punk/postgrunge band she was into. She was still angry at her father for laying into her, and she just prayed that somehow all of this would blow over quickly. Living at home had been difficult enough lately; she couldn’t handle it if things got any worse.
four
    When Adam woke up he felt much better. He’d gotten several hours of solid sleep, and it was a