“I just knew it!”
I could hardly identify who said what, except for the last statement, of course, which could only be Vi. I tried as best I could to reassure them I was okay. This was difficult, considering the amount of blood on my clothes. What I really wanted was a long shower, a whiskey, and bed. I settled for a short shower.
I left them all hovering over Baxter. Vi was on all fours trying to get some information out of him. He looked like he could use a break as well. I thought I saw him cast a wistful look at the stairs as I climbed toward the bathroom, but he was quickly swallowed by the crowd.
I stripped off my jeans and T-shirt and threw them in the trash. There was no way I would ever want to wear them again, even if the blood did wash out. I turned the water on as hot as I could stand and got in the shower. I washed quickly and then stood in the searing spray, trying not to think or to feel anything at all. The heat couldn’t stop the trembling that started up as soon as I relaxed. My whole body shook, and the tears came—some for Tish, some for Sara, some I had been saving for Jadyn, the boy I’d shot in the spring. The police psychologist had said I should let my emotions out more. But it only left me exhausted and red-eyed.
After the shower, I tried to calm my eyes down with cold water but had only minimal success. I would just have to face the mob downstairs looking like I was suffering a severe allergy attack.
They were all in the dining room because my mother insisted on feeding people when a tragedy occurred. A pot of chili sat on the table, but no one was eating. Seth looked scared and young and sat with both dogs on the floor. Alex and Diana were at one end of the table, Mom and Vi at the other. My father was manning the neutral middle territory.
“Here she is!” My mother gestured toward the door as if I were entering royalty.
I gave a small wave to the gang and sat across from my father. They had broken into the whiskey, and I helped myself to a small glass.
“Tell us everything. Don’t leave anything out,” Aunt Vi said.
I took a deep breath. “I went over to Tish’s to talk to her. I felt bad about what happened yesterday.” I gave Vi an icy glare she pretended not to notice. “She had her sign up saying to wait. I waited for a few minutes, but I didn’t feel right. . . .”
“What do you mean?” Mom leaned forward. “Did you sense something?”
“I don’t know that I sensed anything. I just felt cold and not-right. I knocked, and when she didn’t answer I got the key and unlocked the door.”
“Oh, Clyde, you could have been hurt, too!” Diana said, and grabbed my hand.
I glanced quickly her way but didn’t want the shaking and crying to start up again, so I gently pulled my hand away and continued.
“As soon as the key was in the lock, I heard a gunshot. By the time I unlocked the front door, the back door slammed, and I went in and found Tish.”
“Why would you just go in after a 10-72?” Dad said. His eyes were red and wet. He must have had a scary afternoon, wondering if I was safe.
“I didn’t just barge in. I went in quietly. I was worried about Tish, and after I heard the door slam, I figured there was no one in the house.” Listening to my own story, I realized how ridiculous it sounded. No trained police officer would ever enter a scene like that without a real weapon and some sort of backup. But at that moment I wasn’t a police officer. I was just Tish’s friend, and I wanted to help her.
“Did you see anything at all?” Alex asked. His eyes were red, his face haggard.
“No. Whoever did this was gone before I got to the kitchen. I didn’t see a car or anyone running away. . . .”
“They could have been hiding in the back,” Seth said from the floor.
A cold chill skittered down my spine as I realized he was right. I hadn’t searched the yard or locked the door while focused on Tish. All my training had disappeared when faced with Tish’s attack. I put my head down on my arms.
“Well, we need to organize a memorial service for her,” my mother said with a shaky voice.
“She doesn’t have any family.” Vi shook her head.
“I’ll really miss her,” said Diana. She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes.
Sniffles and muffled coughs made their way around the table. Baxter moaned. I was focused on who might have done this. My mother could worry about the memorial; I wanted the murderer caught and punished. Gary was a very real possibility. He was out of jail, had just been fighting with her, and because she had talked Alison into reneging on her alibi, Tish was partly responsible for his arrest in the first place. Maybe she’d known something she hadn’t yet told the police. Maybe she’d talked Alison into changing her statement because she’d known Gary had done it and he knew she suspected him.
“I’ll bet it was Milo Stark,” Vi said.