“Look, Dad! That’s me.”
“Yeah, it sure is.”
Stupefied by emotion, Brody looked up, met Kate’s eyes. What the hell was he going to do now? She’d hit him at his weakest point.
“Jack, go wash your hands.”
“They’re not dirty.”
“Wash them anyway.”
“Right down the hall, Jack,” Kate said quietly. “Count one door, then two, on the side of the hand you write your name with.”
Jack made little grumbling sounds, but he skipped out of the room.
Brody got to his feet. She didn’t back off. No, she wouldn’t have, he thought. So their bodies bumped a little, and his went on full alert.
“That was nice. What you did, making him feel part of it.”
“He is part of it. That is clear.” And so was something else that needled into her heart. “It wasn’t a strategy, Brody.”
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