He charges her, I can tell from the sound, and soon I hear their bodies dropping to the ground with a thud. Then scuffling, shoes slipping on soaking wet grass. I twist my head again, pushing against the pain, but can see only their outlines. I think Gabe’s on top, but I can’t be sure. I let out an anguished cry. “Gabe, are you okay?”
More scuffling. Gabe grunting, I think. Someone struggles to their feet.Gabe.
Then from behind us, the sound of heavy feet, booted maybe, tramping on the ground.
I wiggle a little, edging myself back out of the shrubbery, and raise my head, higher this time. There’s rainwater and blood running in my eyes but I can see two beams of light penetrating the darkness.
“Freeze,” two voices shout in unison.
“She was trying to kill my wife,” Gabe calls out to them, jabbing an arm in my direction.
One of the beams of light ferrets me out, snagging me in the eyes and making me squint.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Wendy protests from the ground. She struggles up and stands. Her clothes are sopping wet, and her hair’s slicked back tight. “I was trying tohelpher.”
“I said freeze,” someone calls again. It’s a trooper, I realize, from the outline of the hat, two of them actually. A man and a woman. “Every one of you.”
“Please,” I say, not moving a muscle. “I’m injured. She smashed me on the head with some kind of hammer.”
“Are you bleeding?” the female voice asks.
“Yes.”
“You’ve got to help her,” Gabe pleads.
“Officer Belker is going to call you an ambulance,” the male trooper shouts to me. “And I’m going to put the other two of you in cuffs until we sort this out. Then we’re going to wait for a second unit before we escort you back to the house.”
As Gabe mutters his consent, I slowly lower my body facedown onto the wet grass. Could I be wrong about what’s happened?No.I saw the weapon in Wendy’s hand—and the rage on her face. A question fights its way through my wooziness.Why?Why would Wendy do this to me? My thoughts are like ragged puzzle pieces that refuse to align.
The hard snap of metal cuts through the darkness—handcuffs being secured—and there’s a sudden burst of light in front of me, followed by a crack of thunder so loud I nearly levitate.
“We have to get my wife to the house,” Gabe calls out. “Please. She’s bleeding, and she shouldn’t be out in this weather.”
“I can walk,” I say to the troopers, raising my head again. “But I need a little help.”
A discussion ensues between the two troopers, too low for me to hear more than a few words:risk... wait... statements. Belker approaches and squats near me.
“You sure?” she asks.
“Yes, please.”
By now the other three have started up the rise to the house. With Belker’s assistance I manage to struggle to my feet and adjust my pants and then half stagger through the darkness, with her gripping my forearm. My head throbs like hell, but my thoughts finally start to fit together.
Wendy tried to kill me.
And... she tried to kill me with the same type of weapon used to kill Jillian. And dishevel my clothes.
But why? And whyJillian? Because she must be the one who murdered her. Only the killer would have known about the jeans around Jillian’s ankles.
When we finally approach the house, I look ahead to the patio, where the male trooper stands under the pergola with a handcuffed Gabe and Wendy. Blake, Keira, and Hannah are clustered near the door. Bella’s there, too, I notice, dripping wet and looking shamefaced.
“What in god’s name is going on?” I hear Blake shout.
The trooper must order them to get inside because I watch the group quickly disperse into the house. He then calls out to Belker, advising her to take my statement in thekitchen. By the time she and I are inside, we have the room to ourselves.
“Are you okay to sit?” she asks. “That’s a pretty ugly gash you’ve got.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to lie down.”
