“I don’t know, they won’t tell me. But I don’t think it’s good.”
I’ve barely climbed the steps before I hear panting and turn to see Vic hurrying in our direction. Dan is a short distance behind him, speaking rapidly into his cell phone.
“Is it Jamie?” I demand again. As I race back down the steps to meet him, I notice that the front of Vic’s white linen shirt is smeared wet with something dark. “Vic, please tell me.”
Vic reaches me and folds me into an embrace. “Oh, Kiki,” he says. “Jamie—Jamie’s dead.”
My knees buckle, and I let out a moan of despair. “Dead?No, no.”
“Dear god,” Ava exclaims.
This can’t be real, it can’t be. I was speaking to Jamie only minutes ago.
“I’m so sorry,” Vic says, choking back the words. I finally register the wetness on his shirt against my bare arm and realize that it’s blood. Jamie’s blood.
“How?” I beg. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either. Dan is calling 911 and we need to wait for help.”
“But we can’t just leave him out there,” I exclaim. “We have to do something.”
“It’s too late,” Vic says mournfully. “I took his pulse, and—it’s clear there’s no hope.”
“Let me see for myself.” I break free from Vic’s embrace and take a few steps away.
“Kiki, please don’t,” he says. “It’s too awful for you to see. Jamie—Jamie’s been shot.”
4
THE GROUND SEEMS TO CRATER BENEATH MY FEET, AND I FEELmyself sway.
“What?” I say in shock. “But—who would do that?”
Ava hurries down from the top of the stoop and wraps an arm around my shoulder. I can feel her trembling through the silk of her tunic.
“I don’t know,” Vic answers. “But we need to get into the house right now.”
I realize suddenly what he’s implying. Whoever shot Jamie might still be on the property. As Vic ushers Ava and me toward the steps, Dan comes up behind us.
“The police are on their way,” he says. “Everyone needs to get inside.”
The second we’re in the house, Dan breaks the news to the others. His wife gasps in shock, and Tori slumps against the wall of the foyer, her hand pressed to her mouth. Vic announces that he’s going to lock the other doors to the house and suggests we all have a seat until the police arrive.
Ava grabs my arm, leads me slowly into the parlor, and eases me onto the sofa. After wrapping a throw blanket around my shoulders, she tells me she wants to check on Tori for a minute, but she’ll be back.
The lightheadedness I experienced in the yard dissipates, and itfeels now as if someone’s dropped a weight on my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. I lean forward, trying to catch a breath, but reality keeps overpowering me. Jamie’sgone. He’s never going to see thirty-nine, dazzle any more clients with his insights, discover his Nordic roots, read another book, hit another tennis ball. Someone’s killed him.
Butwhy? He certainly didn’t have any enemies. In two and a half years, I heard him raise his voice only a few times—mostly at bad drivers—and I don’t think I ever saw him seriously angry at anyone.
Could it have been a robbery? What if someone knew there was a party and waited in the field with a gun? Has someone snuffed out Jamie’s life simply to get their hands on his wallet?
I slowly lift my head and see Ava speaking to a shell-shocked Tori by the fireplace, trying to comfort her. Dan and his wife are at the other end of the room, where they sit with stick-straight posture, clearly stunned. Vic appears in the doorway to the room and Ava goes to him. They huddle briefly, their expressions stricken and their voices too low for me to overhear—almost as if they don’twantto be overheard. Is there more going on than I realize?
The two of them then disappear down the hall toward the kitchen.Please come back, Ava, I pray to myself. I can’t bear being here on my own. As if reading my mind, Tori lowers herself next to me on the sofa. Her face is as white as candle wax, as if someone has drained the blood from her body.
“Tori,” I say, the word choked in my throat. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“I know,” she mutters. “It’s horrible.”
