Dan leaned back in the seat of Meg's car and tried to forget about the last few hours. Neither he nor Meg had said much since they found out the woman Puck had tried to save had died. Dan had waited around until the police were finally able to talk to him. Then he'd given his statement. The detective he spoke to said the police had plenty of corroborative evidence to support Dan's contention of a letter bomb. He'd mentioned the letters the explosion had scattered across the apartment complex, stating that a lot of them appeared to be hate mail.
Dan still felt strange. Someone had tried to kill him. Someone wanted him dead.
"Meg. Let's stop by Cynthia's house on the way home. I want to visit with my family."
Meg's face looked tight. She'd been in her own world until his voice had interrupted her thoughts, and he could see from the set of her mouth and the look in her eyes that it hadn't been a happy world. She glanced over at him and said, "I'll drop you off, if you don't mind, but I really can't stay to visit. Do you think your sister could drive you home?"
"I'm sure she could." He frowned. "What do you have to do?"
Her lips thinned to a tight line. "Work."
"Related to what happened?"
She glanced over at him. "What makes you say that?"
"You don't get angry often, but you're angry now."
"Someone tried to kill you," she said. "If that someone had been successful with you, I would have died, too. Both of us—the two people who are currently most active in this Great Devil Makeover, and in trying to fix the situation here in North Carolina, would have been dead. And if you don't mind me saying so, I have no wish to be a martyr for the cause."
He nodded. "So what are you going to do?"
"I'm not entirely sure. I have an idea . . . but I don't really want to discuss it until I know if it's even feasible."
She dropped him off, gave him a quick kiss, and waited until Cyn came to the door. But she drove off before he could even double-check to see if his sister would be able to give him a ride home.
The first words out of his sister's mouth were, "You look like shit."
He tried a smile, then gave up the attempt. "You saw the news?"
"Yes."
"I could have lost all of you. Mom . . . you . . . Amy . . . Tom . . . even Arthur . . ."
She hugged him. "I know. I know." He realized she was crying. He hugged her tightly and began to cry, too.
When at last they wiped the tears from their eyes, he said, "Do me a favor, would you? Would you call Mom and Arthur and ask them to come over? I want to see both of them but my car's . . ." He started to giggle, realized it was a delayed reaction to the shock, and even when he realized it, couldn't do anything to make himself stop. "Oh, God. My car. I don't have a flat tire, Cyn. I have a flat car." He stood there laughing while Cynthia stared at him; when the nervous laughter changed to tears, he leaned against the wall and let them flow. "Somebody tried to kill me," he said. "Me. I'm just a damn DJ. I play music and tell a few stupid jokes in the morning to help people wake up. That's all."
Cyn was out in the kitchen, on the phone. Dan realized he was talking to himself.
"That's all I was, anyway. I guess I'm not just a DJ anymore. I'm a celebrity. But if this is what it means to be a celebrity, I don't think I want to be one."
He was calmer by the time Cyn rejoined him in the living room. "Mom and Dad will be here in half an hour. Tom's on his way home, too. He got his supervisor to fill in for him."
Dan leaned against the cool, smooth expanse of wall and closed his eyes. "Thanks," he said.
He heard the soft shuffle of footed jammies on wood floor, followed by a shrill squeal.
"Uncle Danny!"
"Amy," her mother said, "what are you doing up?"
"Uncle Danny!" Amy climbed onto the back of the couch before Dan could grab her and shrieked, "Catch me!"
"Jesus!" He caught her in midair. "Don't do that! You almost gave me a heart attack!"
She giggled. "You're funny."
Dan tickled her stomach. She erupted into squeals of laughter as he lifted her over his head and spun the two of them in a circle. He hugged her and fought back the tears. "Hey, Cyn," he yelled, holding Amy upside-down by her ankles. "This belong to anybody?"
Cynthia smiled. The game was an old one, but she didn't mind playing. "Where'd you find it?"
"Outside rummaging in the garbage can."
"Probably a raccoon. Be careful, it might bite."
At the suggestion, Amy bent in half trying to nip Dan's hand. He said, "You don't think it's rabid, do you?"
"Is it foaming at the mouth?"
He grabbed Amy under the arms and held her up. She kicked the air. "Put me down!"
"Yep. What now?"
"Don't they have shots for rabies?"
"NO SHOTS!" Amy yelled.
"Then let's cook it for dinner." He made growling noises and bared his teeth at her, and she screamed again. He put her down and she ran over to the couch and crawled behind it.
He smiled at Cynthia. She smiled back.
When his mother and stepfather arrived, he hugged them both. "Mom . . . Dad," he said, "I'm so glad to see you."
We have so much, he thought. So much, and we take it for granted. We forget how precious family is, and how easy it is to lose.