Blood on My Hands

CHAPTER 17

Sunday 5:08 P.M.

THE FRONT DOOR of the apartment is across the room. I’ll have to get past Tallon to reach it.
Once again Jasmine says insistently, “Tallon?”
“Can it wait?” Tallon answers, clearly uncomfortable about taking her eyes off me.
I decide to take a step, to see how she reacts.
“I’d appreciate it next time if you’d ask before you use our living room for tutoring,” Jasmine says in a huff, and closes her door.
Tallon turns and stares at me, clearly bewildered.
“For God’s sake, Tallon,” I whisper, “do you really think I could kill anyone?”
“But the pictures …”
I start to whisper fast, desperate to make her understand before she screams for help. “She was dead when I found her, and someone took a picture that made it look like I did it.” I just hope Jasmine doesn’t have her ear pressed to the door. “Can’t we talk someplace more private?”
Tallon stiffens. Does she think that maybe this is my way of getting her alone so that I can stab her, too? Callie Carson, serial maniac killer. Tallon has definitely been watching too much CSI. I pat my pockets and turn my palms out, showing her that I’m not carrying any weapons. “Tallon, please. This is serious. I’m desperate. You have to listen.”
She gestures to the couch and takes a seat on the other side of the small coffee table. “If you didn’t do it, why not just go to the police and tell them what happened?”
“You saw the pictures. Everyone thinks I did it. I mean, come on, you think I did it, too.”
Tallon averts her eyes, more or less confirming what I’ve just said. “There was something on the news this morning about how it might have been sexual,” she says in a low voice. “If that’s the case, why would they be looking for you?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “There are a lot of things about this that don’t make sense.”
Tallon studies me. “Why did you come here?”
“Last spring, a few weeks before the PACE show, something happened between Dakota and Katherine. Like, for a couple of weeks they were completely icy to each other. Didn’t speak, wouldn’t even look at each other. Dakota wouldn’t even come into the cafeteria at lunch. I know they fought a lot, but this time it was different. It went on for much longer and seemed more serious. And then it went back to normal. I came here to see if you know what happened.”
Tallon’s eyebrows rise. I was worried that she wouldn’t even know what I was talking about, but her reaction tells me she knows exactly. “Why do you want to know about that?”
I have to answer carefully. I don’t want her to think that I may be trying to pin Katherine’s murder on Dakota. “I … heard something.”
The faint lines around Tallon’s eyes deepen and she slowly nods her head. “It was really personal, Callie. I can’t imagine how it could have had anything to do with Katherine getting killed. It would be pretty far-fetched, don’t you think?”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I have to pretend. “It may be far-fetched, but put yourself in my place. Right now it’s all I’ve got to go on. It may be a dead end, or maybe it will lead to something else.”
Tallon purses her lips, as if she’s not sure what to do. I wonder why she doesn’t just tell me to go ask Dakota about it, but clearly something is making her hesitate. “Listen, Callie, I understand that this is incredibly serious for you, but the reason people confide in me is because they trust me. I can’t go revealing the intimate details of someone’s life just because you think there’s a slim chance it might pertain to your situation. I’m really sorry, but frankly, I can’t see how these two things could be connected. I mean, we both know what you’re implying. Do you really think Dakota is capable of doing something like that?”
It’s hard for me not to jump up and gasp, Yes! But I can’t, because I have no idea what Tallon’s talking about. What intimate details?
“I know,” I reply, trying to sound like I’m commiserating about the situation she’s in. “You don’t want to betray anyone’s trust. It’s just … they ran so hot and cold.”
“What do you expect? They’re rivals. If it wasn’t for Katherine, Dakota would be the queen.”
If I can just keep her talking … “But what happened before the PACE show felt different. More serious.”
Tallon lets out a sigh, as if she’s torn about what to do. “Well, I guess the only other person you could speak to would be Griffen himself.”
Griffen?
The bedroom door opens and Jasmine comes out. She looks at us and frowns. If Tallon’s tutoring me, why aren’t there books open on the coffee table? I’ve raised her suspicions and put Tallon in an awkward situation. And who is this Griffen person?
Jasmine goes into the kitchen and I hear water running. Tallon leans close to me and whispers, “You have to go. You know the police want anyone who sees you to report it. I could get into really big trouble for this.”
I slowly start to rise and whisper, “I would have gone to Griffen in the first place, but I didn’t know how to find him.”
“I’m sure he’s on Facebook,” Tallon whispers back.
We start to cross the living room. I can feel Jasmine’s eyes on me. We get to the door, but instead of going through it, I hesitate and say, “I would have tried Facebook, but I forgot his last name.”
“Clemment,” Tallon whispers urgently, as if she wants me to leave, now!
“Right. Thanks.” I go out the door and down the steps as fast as I can without appearing to run.
By the time I reach the sidewalk, I’ve already decided that I can’t go back to the bus stop. If Tallon calls the police, I’ll be too easy to spot there. Besides, I have to get to a computer. FCC has a library, so I head toward campus. Fortunately it’s Sunday and not many people are around.
I find the library. At a computer inside I settle down, sign into Facebook, and search Griffen Clemment. A page comes up with a photo of a guy with longish straight blond hair. He’s wearing a white oxford shirt and plaid shorts and standing on the deck of a sailboat, looking as if he’s posing in an ad. The message beside the picture states, Griffen Clemment only shares some of his profile information with everyone. If you know Griffen, send him a message or add him as a friend.
Under Groups it states Meadows School.
Bingo! That’s a private school nearby.
Suddenly a chat box opens on the screen and I am staring at a photo of Mia. In the chat box she types, Callie?
I freeze, realizing I’ve just made a mistake. Now that I’ve signed on, every Facebook friend I have who is also online right now knows it.
Mia: Is this U? OMG! WRU?

Cal: Not imprtnt.

Mia: The police R looking 4 U.

Cal: I no.

Mia: Why R U hiding?

Cal: Didnt do it.

Mia: We have 2 meet f2f.

Before I can answer, the screen starts to populate with chat boxes from other kids I know. The news that Callie Carson is online is spreading fast. I have to get off.
I hate the way people toss around the phrase “dysfunctional family” and make jokes out of it. I remember one about someone putting the “fun” in “dysfunctional.” I don’t mean to be a downer but it’s not funny. Not if you really live in one.
When Dad and Sebastian went at it, Mom couldn’t, or wouldn’t, leave. Maybe she believed that if she stayed, it would stop things from really getting out of control. Or maybe it was to be around in case someone got hurt and needed care. Or maybe it was simply that this was her family and she was part of it.
Everyone who knew us knew that it was slowly destroying her. Even before the night Sebastian assaulted Dad with the two-by-four, Mom had begun to come apart. There were days when she couldn’t get out of bed and days when she could only sit, zombielike, in front of the TV. The house became filthy. Meals weren’t prepared.
In a bizarre way, the last fight between Sebastian and Dad was both the end and the beginning. It was the end of the war in our family, and the end of Mom’s hopes. But it was the beginning of her new role as caretaker. It gave her a purpose and a reason to get out of bed in the morning, even if caring for her husband was, in its own way, a prison sentence.