Walking through the dining room, I came to a stop at the basement door. I couldn't help myself. I pulled it open and stepped behind it, crouching down and peering through the crack. I saw Alex standing in the middle of the kitchen, his hands on his hips, turning a slow circle as he soaked it all in. His body morphed to that of my dad. His intense blue eyes always caught everything. I could never lie to him, never hide my disappointment or joy. He knew everything about me. And now he was gone.
My lips scrunched into a wobbly line as Alex then morphed into William Tenner. The man who destroyed me. He stood over my dead parents with a sadistic grin that morphed to annoyance. His huffing irritation that my dad had died, the way he'd kicked Dad's limp body and then shouted my name. Lucy! You can't hide from me! It burnt my brain, making me want to shatter.
"Lucy? Are you okay?"
I jerked at Zach's soft words, but pushed the door open, stepping back out into the hallway. He was pale with worry. I tried to ease his nerves by giving him a smiling nod, but it was probably more like a grimacing head jerk.
Wise enough to stay silent, he just reached for my hand and gently tugged me into the kitchen.
"Anything?" he asked the others. Elliot was on his hands and knees, checking under cupboards for marks or dents.
Alex was standing back in the corner, studying angles, trying to play out what I'd told him. He moved to the right and I shook my head.
"No, he came from here." I stepped across the room and wrapped my fingers lightly around Alex's throat, pushing him back, until he hit the cupboards. "Then he shot Dad." I pointed my hand to the floor as I let go of Alex and stepped into the kitchen. I slammed my sneaker onto the tiles, pretending to crunch Dad's hand. With an eerie detachment I ran through the rest of the scene.
"What have you got on me?" I said in a deep voice, caught in a trance.
"What do you mean?" Alex spun to face me. "Did Tenner say that?"
I froze, my eyes wide as I fell back against the kitchen counter, gripping the edge until my fingers hurt.
"I remember," I whispered.
"Remember what? Which part?" Alex went to step into my space, but Zach blocked him, giving me room to think.
"My dad, he was..." I licked my lips. "He was an analyst for the FBI. He had found out some stuff about this guy. Tenner. Tenner was his boss, right? That's what they were talking about! When I was eavesdropping." I pointed to the basement door. "Mom said he was a criminal and it was Dad's duty to expose him. And then he showed up and he shot Mom and asked Dad what he had on him." My voice grew fast as the words spilled out of me. "Dad wouldn't say at first so he went to shoot Mom again and then he said something about bribery or...um...something to do with money...and gangs, maybe?" I rubbed my forehead. "He wanted all the information Dad had on him, but Dad said it wasn't in the house. So the guy shot Mom. He—Dad told him, but he shot Mom anyway!" I pointed to the cupboards at my feet. "Dad was screaming her name." Tears overran my ramblings, cutting my story short. "He—he—was just—he just—shot her!"
"And then he went after you." Alex spoke quietly.
I nodded, covering my mouth as a sob tried to wrench itself free. My legs buckled and I slumped to the floor.
Zach rushed to my side, crouching down and running his hand over my knee.
"Your dad was a brave man, Lucy. He was going to expose Tenner."
"Tenner threatened him, saying he'd find me and Dad lost it, he went after him and tried to fight. He died to save me." My face bunched as I pressed my fingers into my eyes.
"Like I said, a very brave man," Alex whispered, but then only waited a beat before asking. "I wonder what he had on Tenner?"
I shook my head. "What does it matter anyway, Tenner would have cleared out my dad's office at work. Whatever Dad did have on him is probably destroyed now." I swiped my finger under my nose. "We can't get this guy."
With a heavy sigh, Alex sat down on the other side of me and squeezed my leg. "Well, I'm not giving up. Even if there's nothing here, there's got to be something, somewhere. The guy is not perfect. He will have slipped up. Yes, this house looks like it's been wiped clean, but this is only our first stop."
"Our first stop? Where else are we supposed to go? He would have gotten rid of anything useful to us." I kneaded my forehead with my knuckles.
"But what if he didn't. What if he just boxed away the evidence and let the case go cold. He's got the power to do that kinda thing. More cases would have come along and gotten in the way of this one. The trail died out and everything would have been filed away. Surely there's something, somewhere."
I scratched the top of my head, feeling weary. "So what if there is? What can that evidence prove anyway? His report matches the scene...the scene he created."
"Evidence can be looked at and twisted around to tell the story you want it to. If we had that evidence, we could give it a different angle. We only need a fragment, remember? Just enough to start the FBI Internal Affairs asking questions."
"Where would that evidence even be?" I sighed.
"Probably boxed up in an evidence locker." Zach scratched the top of his head.