{"product_id":"rabbit-hole-isbn-9781641294874","title":"Rabbit Hole","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003eA page-turning debut mystery that’s as addictive as a late-night Reddit binge, about a grieving woman obsessed with solving her sister’s cold-case disappearance via the true crime fandom\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePerfect for fans of Gillian Flynn, \u003ci\u003eMy Favorite Murder\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eFleabag\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTen years ago, Theodora “Teddy” Angstrom’s older sister, Angie, went missing. Her case remains unsolved. Now Teddy’s father, Mark, has killed himself. Unbeknownst to Mark’s family, he had been active in a Reddit community fixated on Angie, and Teddy can’t help but fall down the same rabbit hole.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTeddy’s investigation quickly gets her in hot water with her gun-nut boyfriend, her long-lost half brother, and her colleagues at the prestigious high school where she teaches English. Further complicating matters is Teddy’s growing obsession with Mickey, a charming amateur sleuth who is eerily keen on helping her solve the case.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBewitched by Mickey, Teddy begins to lose her moral compass. As she struggles to reconcile new information with old memories, her erratic behavior reaches a fever pitch, but she won’t stop until she finds Angie—or destroys herself in the process.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e is an outrageous and heart-wrenching character study of a mind twisted by grief, a biting critique of the internet’s voyeurism, and an intriguing exploration of the blurry lines of female friendship.\u003cb\u003e\u003cu\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/u\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003eAn \u003ci\u003eELLE\u003c\/i\u003e Best Mystery and Thriller Book of 2024 So Far\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAmazon Top 10 January Best of the Month Pick\u003cbr\u003eA Jennette McCurdy Book Club Pick\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAn ABA Indie Next Pick for January 2024\u003cbr\u003eA Powell's Pick of the Month for January 2024\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eA \u003ci\u003ePaste Magazine \u003c\/i\u003eMost Anticipated Mystery and Thriller Book of 2024\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eAn Audible Most Anticipated Debut of 2024\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLit Hub's Most Anticipated Books of 2024\u003cbr\u003eA CrimeReads Best Debut of the Month\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eDeadly Pleasures\u003c\/i\u003e' Most Anticipated Mysteries and Thrillers of 2024\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMysterious Bookshop First Mystery Crime Club Pick\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“In this smart, chilling page-turner, a high school English teacher obsessed with her older sister's long-ago disappearance gets caught up in Reddit conspiracy theories.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePeople Magazine\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An unorthodox tale for the true-crime obsessed, \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e is less a conventional suspense and more a case study in mourning and obsession, refracted through the lens of a woman processing her father’s suicide and her sister’s disappearance. With a particular ire for (and understanding of) internet forums, Kate Brody takes readers through protagonist Teddy’s descent into the Reddit community devoted to her sister’s cold case—and one amateur detective whom Teddy can’t seem to resist.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eELLE\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Brody wisely builds the suspense around Teddy’s dissolution and paranoia . . . creating an atmosphere so suffocating and panicky that readers will feel the effects of loss, grief, and confusion as surely as if they were inside Teddy’s very smart and once better-adjusted mind.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—NPR.org\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A sensitive, psychological investigation into the long-term, traumatic impact of lingering, unresolved grief.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Marie Claire\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Vivid, beautiful writing and disturbing in the best way, \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole \u003c\/i\u003eis absolutely unputdownable.\u003cb\u003e”\u003cbr\u003e—Mila Kunis\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A compelling study of grief, betrayal, the slippery nature of memory and our complicated relationship with other people’s tragedies.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Guardian\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“For anyone who's ever indulged in a late-night Reddit binge or has found themselves in the amateur sleuthing vortex of true crime junkies, \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e follows a woman who becomes obsessed with solving the cold-case disappearance of her older sister.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Nylon\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Brody proves as sharp about small-town gossip, internet culture, and the nature of grief as she is capable of crafting a twisty, engrossing mystery narrative . . . a stunning debut.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eToronto Star\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Tension escalates to a maddening frenzy until a bombshell revelation brings the plot full circle, making \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e a dazzling read from start to finish.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePortland Press Herald\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“From the first line, Brody’s novel had its hands around my throat. While \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e has the pace and intrigue of a thriller, and brutal and evocative prose, what makes it stand out is its narrator, Brody’s refusal to soften her edges or portray her as anything less than a young woman savaged by grief. I followed breathlessly along, both wishing I could stop Teddy’s Internet-fueled descent into madness and eagerly awaiting the next dark, delicious corner she’d lead me.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Jean Kyoung Frazier, author of \u003ci\u003ePizza Girl\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Kate Brody’s \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e is a smart and edgy mystery that kept me turning pages feverishly from start to finish. I found myself tumbling down the rabbit hole right alongside Teddy, the novel’s flawed and fascinating protagonist, desperate to solve the mystery of her troubled sister Angie’s disappearance. This is a story about girlhood, grief, the slippery nature of memory, and our society’s true crime obsession, and Brody delivers insights on these themes in prose that is both raw and beautiful. As we follow Teddy on her downward spiral, we are forced to ask: How much is the truth worth?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Alexis Schaitkin, author of \u003ci\u003eSaint X\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I absolutely loved this book. \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e is an unflinching portrait of grief and obsession, as well as a genuinely gripping mystery. The characters feel raw and real, the story is dark and timely. I couldn't put it down.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Ainslie Hogarth, author of \u003ci\u003eMotherthing\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I fell down \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e in an obsessive spiral. So many good twists! It's a pitch-black story about ambiguous loss, and a blazingly feminist take on the self-destructive pull of the internet. And it's poignant. And it's unflinching. And that ending! Kate Brody is a star.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Kate Reed Petty, author of \u003ci\u003eTrue Story\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A searing portrayal of loss, adolescence, and grief with all the twists and turns of a thriller. Teddy is a fantastically compelling narrator and her relationship with Mickey is twisted yet perfectly believable. I tore through this in a few days—a mindblowing debut.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Heather Darwent, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Things We Do to Our Friends\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e “In Teddy Angstrom, Kate Brody has constructed a memorable narrator whose distinctive blend of self-awareness and self-destructiveness will keep you both cringing and rooting for her. A witty and moving exploration of grief, loneliness, and obsession as well as a page-turning mystery, \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e sucked me in more than any Reddit conspiracy theory thread ever could.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Isabel Kaplan, author of \u003ci\u003eNSFW\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Blistering, sexy, concentric and dark, \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e is the ultimate literary thriller for the digital age, a reddit whodunnit that is at once hyper modern, and grounded by the deep emotionality of Kate Brody’s enduring questions about grief and girlhood, caretaking and identity and how, in the absence of truth, to live a meaningful life. An unputdownable debut from a writer I would follow anywhere.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Allie Rowbottom, author of \u003ci\u003eJell-O Girls\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eAesthetica\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A troubling mystery rustles its feathers beneath Brody's gritty, gorgeous prose. Brody shows how the internet bewitches us, how we seek it out looking for an escape but instead are confronted by our own shadow-selves. Tense and engrossing.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Bea Setton, author of \u003ci\u003eBerlin\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Kate Brody’s multifaceted debut combines sensitive characterization, wry narration, and use of modern technology worthy of Jennifer Egan with the brilliantly evocative suspense of a Tana French novel. I was riveted!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Joanna Margaret, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Bequest\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Among Brody’s strengths as a writer is her ability to create realistic, multifaceted characters whose needs and desires are at odds with what it is they actually want and need . . . A psychological thriller that also thoughtfully explores social media culture and the dangers of obsession, \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e is a heart-wrenching reminder of the complex humanity behind every true crime story.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eChicago Review of Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Teddy’s world—and therefore the book—is dark and tinged with loss . . . It’s a testament to Brody that her story can almost repulse in its gritty detail. There are images in \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e that will not leave my mind.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eAlta Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[A] promising debut... perfect for our internet sleuth-y, murder-fixated age.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Lit Hub\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Kate Brody writes with urgency, forcing readers to face the ugly parts of themselves much the way grief does...Dream-like and shape-shifting, \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e left me pleasantly disoriented at times, wondering until the last moment who was to be trusted.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—The Sunlight Press\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[A] stunning indictment of social media.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Deadly Pleasures\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Pensive and grave.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Criminal Element\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Invigorating . . . Brody infuses the character-driven \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e with a precise look at social media addiction, the debilitating effects of grief, and the inaccuracy of memory as she keeps the pages turning in this solidly suspenseful plot.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Oline H. Cogdill, Shelf Awareness\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A fascinating romp through the internet's true crime boards . . . Brody's novel continues the ongoing trend of psychological thrillers that become smart critiques of true crime culture.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—CrimeReads\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A taut story of family and letting secrets go.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Indie Next\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Full of twists and surprises, genuine mystery and startling psychological portraits, \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole \u003c\/i\u003eis a profound exploration into the nature of grief and identity. It is also an unsettling investigation into the shadowy line that separates the real world from the digital.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003eBookTrib\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Brody's debut is visceral and at times gut-wrenching, exploring the ways grief and a need for answers can be exacerbated and exploited by a culture obsessed with true-crime stories. Powerful and unforgettable.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “\u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e by Kate Brody will have you wading through a miasma of raw thoughts and feelings. A well crafted debut.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Murder in Common\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Noirish, haunting and razor-sharp, as compulsive as a late-night Reddit binge,\u003ci\u003e Rabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e is an unforgettable debut about violence, family and grief.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Jill's Book Cafe\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Brody’s debut novel is both a suspenseful mystery and a provocative portrait of a broken family. Teddy is a sharply intelligent and rather cinematically flawed heroine . . . who readers will nonetheless find themselves rooting for.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBookPage\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This is deliciously good fiction, both harrowing and heartfelt, propulsive and immersive.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Book Reporter\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Brody’s sure-footed debut paints a harrowing portrait of a life derailed by internet conspiracy theories . . . Narrating from Teddy’s point of view, Brody explores in elegant prose potent themes both contemporary (internet addiction) and evergreen (grief).”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A gritty, realistically ambivalent look at how insiders and outsiders experience crime, with a realistic main character to boot.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—First Clue Reviews\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A timely rumination on true crime, internet obsession, and paranoia.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “[An] engrossing thriller . . . The dark corners of the internet feed a teacher’s investigation into her sister’s probable murder in the contemporary thriller \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Foreword Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eKate Brody\u003c\/b\u003e lives in Los Angeles, California. Her work has previously appeared in Lit Hub and \u003ci\u003eThe Literary Review\u003c\/i\u003e, among other publications. She holds an MFA from NYU. \u003ci\u003eRabbit Hole\u003c\/i\u003e is her debut novel.Ten years to the day after my sister’s disappearance, my father kills himself. It’s a sleepy Friday night like any other when he drives his car through the rotting barn wall of the most beautiful bridge in town and plunges himself into the shallow waters below. The same shallow waters where divers in seal suits panned for Angie’s remains when all of our better leads ran cold. He doesn’t vanish like she did. He isn’t swept away with the current. His car isn’t even fully submerged. He lands in the rocks, bumper sticking out from the water like a bad joke.\u003cbr\u003e      Mom and I stand at the edge of the road in police overcoats, watching as state authorities dredge the car from the riverbank with their big tow trucks. The local cops tape off the entrance to the bridge, which looks like it was hit with a wrecking ball. The sheriff they sent up from Portland tells us there are only nine covered bridges left in the state. Eight now, if they can’t restore this one. It’s the first thing he says. Only after Mom apologizes, only after she assures him that her husband must have been trying to veer off the road sooner, must have been trying to miss the bridge entirely and cut across the steep patch of nothing between the start of the bridge and the end of the guardrail, only after she insists that he must have simply been going too fast, turned a second late, wound up on the bridge—only then does the sheriff volunteer that my dad was killed on impact. He didn’t drown. Small mercies.\u003cbr\u003e      My mom thanks the sheriff, and his face softens when he hears her lovely, musical brogue. She turns it up for the occasion, leaning into each lilting syllable.\u003cbr\u003e      Mark loved that bridge, she says.\u003cbr\u003e      The man pats her shoulder.\u003cbr\u003e      I think: I wish it ever stopped raining long enough for me to light this fucking bridge on fire. I wish I could throw a match and engulf the ancient lumber in flames, but I know that it would only self-extinguish in a leftover pile of muddy snow.\u003cbr\u003e      For years later, at night, all I will be able to think about is the butt-end of the car sticking up like that and the feeling that, if he wanted to, he could have unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his door, and walked out. From this day forward, Angie will appear in my dreams soaking wet, lips blue. My dad won’t appear in my dreams very much, and I’ll miss him.\u003cbr\u003e      Mom closes her eyes and tugs nervously at the streak of white in her auburn hair. She insists on identifying his body alone, and I let her. For now, I am glad, but I will be angry later when I can’t be sure if the bloated, bruised, waterlogged version in my head is more or less grotesque than the real thing. I will grow jealous of her for getting to see him, for the visual proof that convinces even the most stubborn parts of her brain that he is dead.\u003cbr\u003e      It will all come later. Things take time.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Before I get a chance to email my boss and ask for Monday sub coverage, he emails me and copies the entire faculty.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eTeddy,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eWe heard. We are all SO sorry for your loss. Take some time to be with your mother. Hank and Wendy have volunteered to cover your classes in the interim. Please let me know when the wake will be held. The school would love to send a spray to Brown’s, and I’m sure members of the community would attend.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eDeepest sympathies,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eRick\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003ePrincipal, Upper School\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Other faculty members jump on the thread. Lots of caps\u003cbr\u003e lock. Many sad faces.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eTeddy, hon! I saw the news. SO SORRY! xoxo Bea\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eTed, more bad news for your poor family?! Hang in there, babe. —Wendy\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eTheodora, I know we don’t know each other very well, but I want you to know that my uncle committed suicide. My prayers are with you and your mother. Let me know if I can help in any way. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eLove, Fred (from upstairs)\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I send one email to the group before I mute notifications:\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eMy entire St. Aug’s family, I so appreciate your well wishes, and I can’t thank you enough for stepping up to cover my classes. However, we will not be having any public services, and I plan to return to work on Tuesday. I thank you in advance for your discretion with the students over the next\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003efew weeks.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eBest, Teddy\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eBefore Angie disappeared, she was very focused on the things she didn’t have: a boyfriend, a car, a beach body, good hair, good skin, a tongue piercing, a full sleeve tattoo, a reliable pot dealer, a chance at a half-decent college, a date for senior prom, a sense of direction. I would sit at the end of her bed and paint her toenails a shade of green or red dark enough to look black, and she would list them off. \u003cbr\u003e      When she was gone, it felt like we were drowning in her things: Angie’s CD collection, Angie’s ripped jeans, ripped sweaters, ripped everything. Angie’s sketchbooks, Angie’s textbooks, Angie’s yearbooks, signed with inside jokes that Mom tried to crack like spy code.\u003cbr\u003e      I inherited none of it. I couldn’t wear her clothes or her earrings or her perfume. I tried once, with the perfume—a saccharine vanilla scent that I had scored rightfully, as a hand-me-down from herself—and it made Mom so upset that she wouldn’t speak to me until I showered.\u003cbr\u003e      The only thing I got was Angie’s dog, an Irish wolfhound—only a puppy then, all legs and wiry, slate-gray fur—that year’s birthday present from my dad, purchased without Mom’s knowledge, a month before Angie went missing. For Angie to take with her when she moved out and started her classes at the community college. A security system.\u003cbr\u003e      Wolf was small then. Now he is large and blind. Ten is old for an Irish wolfhound.\u003cbr\u003e      “Come on, Wolf,” I say, hauling his gaunt frame into the trunk of my car for another doctor’s appointment, only hours after the bridge. “Help me help you, buddy.”\u003cbr\u003e      “Does he need more pillows?” Mom asks.\u003cbr\u003e      I look at Wolfie. He lies on his side, long limbs extended toward the back of the car. He is surrounded by pillows.\u003cbr\u003e      “Come on,” I say. “The rest are boxed up.”\u003cbr\u003e      I regret it instantly, bringing up the move, but Mom doesn’t notice. She kisses Wolfie’s wet nose and shuts the trunk. Since she let her license expire a few years ago, she only leaves the house for doctor’s appointments—Wolf ’s and her own.\u003cbr\u003e      Mom hated Wolfie when he first arrived. She had a strict no-animals policy, and his habits of barking when the house creaked in the middle of the night and peeing on her curtains didn’t endear him to her. But Angie trained him quickly and well in a few short weeks. He learned commands and he stuck by her side day and night, sleeping on top of her head when he was small. \u003cbr\u003e      Sometimes, I think Wolfie understood that she wasn’t coming back before the rest of us did. The one person he would let touch him was me. He was bereft.\u003cbr\u003e      Only when the cops announced that they were giving up did Mom express an interest in Wolfie. She didn’t want to be his primary caregiver. She just wanted to make sure that he was well cared-for since Angie loved him, and he loved Angie, and Angie was gone.\u003cbr\u003e      Sometimes, it seems like part of Angie is inside of him. Or he relays messages to her. Or she can hear me when I talk to him. I know it’s only magical thinking. I can only really acknowledge that I believe this when I’m drunk. When I’m drunk, it’s very easy to mistake Wolfie’s calm presence for listening. It’s very easy to understand that if I bury my face in the side of his neck and whisper something into the space where his ear falls against the wavy fur, it will travel to Angie like a message into a tin can telephone.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e USUALLY, WE TAKE THE long way to the vet, because the roads are smoother, but today we can’t because of the road closure. Because of Dad. So we take the short, potholed way, and Wolfie cries the whole time in the back as his bones and tumors bounce around. I think of the bumper sticker on the back of Dad’s car. We couldn’t see it last night in the dark, but it was there: \u003ci\u003eIn America, we drive on the right side of the road. In Maine we drive on what’s LEFT of the roads.\u003c\/i\u003e Every divot fills me with more rage, until I’m clutching the wheel so hard my knuckles go white. \u003ci\u003eThis is your fault\u003c\/i\u003e, I think. \u003ci\u003eAll your fault.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      “Take it easy,” Mom says. “We don’t need another accident.” \u003cbr\u003e      As we’re walking into the vet’s office on Main, I spot a clear recycling bag near the door. Inside is a striped lump matted through with bits of gravel and crushed seashells—the kind they use to make rustic driveways for the beach houses.\u003cbr\u003e      “What the fuck is that?”\u003cbr\u003e      Mom bends down and reads. “It’s a cat,” she says.\u003cbr\u003e      “What?”\u003cbr\u003e      “Someone hit a cat with their car. Big one.”\u003cbr\u003e      I bend down: Please dispose accordingly.\u003cbr\u003e      “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I say. Wolfie is blindly sniffing at the bag. He lifts a paw to prod at it. “Wolf, get away from there.”\u003cbr\u003e      “Looks like a Maine coon. They probably didn’t want the turkey vultures coming,” Mom says.\u003cbr\u003e      “Let’s go.” I open the door and usher her in before me.\u003cbr\u003e      “Tourists,” she spits, despite the fact that we both know there won’t be any tourists for at least two more months.\u003cbr\u003e      Wolfie digs in his heels with what little strength he has and forces me to drag him over the threshold with his leash. He hates the vet.\u003cbr\u003e      Jen at the reception desk is reading a Nancy Drew. “Oh my goodness. Wolfie. We didn’t think you’d make your appointment today.”\u003cbr\u003e      “Well, we’re here,” I say.\u003cbr\u003e      “We didn’t want to call,” Jen continues. “We heard what happened.”\u003cbr\u003e      “There’s a dead cat outside,” Mom says.\u003cbr\u003e      “What?”\u003cbr\u003e      “It’s in a bag,” I say. “Hit-and-run.”\u003cbr\u003e      “You hit a cat?”\u003cbr\u003e      “Not us,” I say. “Someone else.”\u003cbr\u003e      “They left a note.” Mom gets close enough to see what Jen is reading. “Those books are for children.”\u003cbr\u003e      “I wanted to see if it was appropriate for my daughter before—”\u003cbr\u003e      “Mom.” I take her elbow. “Sit.”\u003cbr\u003e      Mom lets me guide her into one of the hard plastic chairs. “Wolfie’s having a hard time breathing,” she says, to no one in particular.\u003cbr\u003e      I smile at Jen, but she’s already pushing through the swinging door to retrieve the doctor. Before she disappears, I think I see a flash of something quizzical and accusatory on her face.\u003cbr\u003e      Dr. Miller seems equally confused by our presence. She knew my dad from some early visits, and she liked him. He was a nice man, she says. He played with all the dogs in the waiting room.\u003cbr\u003e      “Sounds like him,” I say.\u003cbr\u003e      Wolfie trembles for the full duration of his visit. We weigh him on the floor scale. All three of us dance around the metal rectangle trying to steady him without altering the reading. Seventy-nine pounds. A lot for most dogs, but not much for Wolf.\u003cbr\u003e      “What’s the situation?” Mom asks.\u003cbr\u003e      “The cancer has spread again,” the doctor says. She illuminates the X-rays, and even I can tell that Wolfie’s organs are marred with tumors. “There is nothing left to do for him.”\u003cbr\u003e      I expect Mom to ask for a second opinion, to insist that someone must be able to operate. Instead, she says, “Probably better that he enjoys the time he has left.”\u003cbr\u003e      “I agree,” the vet says, with relief. She’s used to Mom’s internet research on the effectiveness of infrared heat and B16 and doggie yoga and other things that people in Boston or New York might do, but that don’t really exist here, where dogs are still treated like animals.\u003cbr\u003e      “What can we do to make him comfortable?”\u003cbr\u003e      Dr. Miller drones on about organic food and the power of touch, as if we don’t already spend all our time and money spoiling Wolfie. It’s only after Mom has paid the exorbitant visit fee and we’re back in the car that I realize I didn’t ask how much time he had left.\u003cbr\u003e      “Shit,” I say. “That would have been good to know.” \u003cbr\u003e      Mom disagrees. “They tell you one thing, but you never really know.”\u003cbr\u003e      The car lurches, and Wolfie yelps. It can’t be long.","brand":"Soho Crime","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301905420517,"sku":"NP9781641294874","price":25.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781641294874.jpg?v=1742925455","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/rabbit-hole-isbn-9781641294874","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}