At least I’m not the only one asking these questions anymore.
I slip in and out between people until I’m at the front of the growing crowd, my stomach pressed against the police tape. I try to get a peek, leaning to one side, then another, but I can’t see anything from way out here, and there is an officer only five feet in front of me to make sure I don’t think about getting any closer.
I give him a tentative smile and he looks surprised, but then smiles back. His badge reads Officer Romero. He’s short but has a very muscular build. I’m not sure if he could catch me if I tried to run past him, but he would absolutely squash me if he did. Obviously, I need a different tactic.
“So, what happened?” I ask, playing dumb.
Romero shakes his head, and his black mustache grows much wider when he frowns. “This is a murder scene.” He looks down at the way the tape is pressed against my stomach as I try to see past him again. “Which is why you really need to stay back.”
I take one step away and smile again. He watches me closer now than before, and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. I walk back a bit and then slide to the area where the police tape attaches to the wall of the building. It’s a different officer on this side. He’s drinking a coffee and has his back to me. Maybe I can find a way through here …
Before I get a chance to try it, there is some motion in the alley. I hold my breath, hoping they bring someone past in handcuffs. Someone I can hate from a distance as the city apologizes and releases Daddy from Polunsky. Instead, a couple of officers roll out a big black bag on a stretcher toward the waiting Houston City Coroner truck only fifteen feet away from me.
My blood turns cold and I feel nauseous. It’s a body bag. Nothing about this feels like TV and I can’t believe I’d wanted it to feel real. There’s a murdered woman in that bag who was probably alive just last night. My knees buckle and only the brick wall next to me keeps me from losing my balance. How could I have been excited about coming here? How could this be a thing that had made me feel hopeful?
What kind of freak had my life turned me into?
At the same time, at the back of my mind I keep wondering if somehow that bag holds the answers we need. The officers who brought it out turn and go back into the alley. The only person guarding the body bag is in black scrubs and banging stuff around inside the coroner’s truck.
Drawing in one quick breath, I push aside any sick urge to see the body and instead decide to check around back near the alley. An insane curiosity gets the better of me. Maybe the killer dropped something. No officers assigned to the crowd are looking my way, so I grab hold of the tape and duck under it.
Before I even make it all the way to the other side, a strong hand grips my elbow and jerks me back. I grunt in surprise as someone pulls me away. I flip around to see who it is and the only thing I know for sure is that it’s definitely a man. He’s wearing a tailored gray coat and a hat pulled low around his ears. I open my mouth to scream, but then he pivots to face me and holds one finger up in front of my eyes. “Don’t you think you’ve brought quite enough attention on yourself already today, Miss Riley?”
I jerk back as I recognize the blue eyes looking out at me from the shade of his hat. I’m so shocked I have to blink a few times to make sure it’s him. “Mr. Masters? Wha—you—?”
“Yes, eloquently put.” He gives me a wry smile before looking over my shoulder. “Now, kindly follow me to my car before anyone else decides to look our way.”
He walks two feet, but I don’t take another step. When I speak I can hear the slight whine in my voice. “I have my own car. And I’m here because I need to know what’s happening.”
With a sigh, he gestures for me to follow him a few feet to a spot where the TV vans block our view of the police. “And did you learn anything important so far?”
“Well, no…”
“And you won’t, Miss Riley.” He slips an arm around my shoulders and starts guiding my reluctant feet toward his car again. “At least come and let me explain a couple of things to you before you make a mistake that you can’t take back.”
When I don’t move, he whispers low in my ear, “The second you cross that tape, the officers guarding it will push you back. If you happen to make it to anything important, they would catch you and charge you with tampering with evidence.”
“I’m not an idiot, Mr. Masters,” I say hotly. “I know that’s a possibility.”
“Are you planning on following in your father’s footsteps early, then? He may not have broken the law, but it seems you plan to. Why even wait until graduation? Let’s go on a crime spree.” His tone has an edge of disappointment, and it stings to hear it.