Chapter 3

The neighbors, who had been listening with rapt attention, started murmuring. Maria, the waitress from the diner, stepped forward. She was tough as nails and had known my family forever.

"Frank, what are you talking about?" she said, her arms crossed. "A job is more important than a person' s life? If Jenny' s in trouble, the police are the first people you call."

The small crowd nodded in agreement. The Smiths were cornered, their excuses sounding flimsy and selfish in the face of my overwhelming "grief."

Frank sputtered, cornered by the town' s common sense. "It' s not like that! I... I have a cousin in the city. A good man. I' ll call him tomorrow. He' ll check things out, quiet-like. No need to get the authorities involved and make a mess."

I knew it was a lie, a stalling tactic. But I nodded, playing the part of the relieved, trusting son-in-law. "Okay, Frank. If you think that' s best."

The memorial service ended. The neighbors left, patting my shoulder and telling me to be strong. The Smiths retreated to their room, whispering furiously. I was left alone with my sleeping daughter and the ghost of my wife.

That night, I didn' t sleep. I went to the top of the basement stairs, the old wooden ones that always creaked. I found the floorboard that had been loose for years and worked it with my pry bar, just enough to make it unstable. Not a death trap, just an accident waiting to happen.

The next morning, just as I knew he would, Frank stood by the door as I got ready to leave for work, my daughter in my arms.

"Where do you think you' re going?" he demanded. "You need to stay here. What if she calls?"

"I have to work, Frank. I have a baby to support."

As we argued, Carol came rushing out of the kitchen. "Frank, leave the boy alone! He' s right, he has to..."

Her foot hit the loose floorboard.

She let out a piercing shriek as she tumbled down the steep basement stairs, a sickening series of thuds followed by a groan of pure agony.

The accident was real. But this time, it was on my terms.