“He was here yesterday, after you left,” I say, telling her about the conversation with my mother. “She said she’d touch base with him once the weekend was over.”
“He’s probably supplying lumber for this job,” Seton says, “but duly noted.”
She snaps another photo, this time of my bloody face.
“Am I evidence?” I ask.
“Everything’s evidence.”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
“Not yet.”
So much for the flash of intimacy between us.
By the shoreline, the EMTs wheel Seton’s mother toward the ambulance. Seton appears detached from this whole situation, though I wonder what that demeanor might be hiding. “Be with your mom,” I say. “I’m fine on my own.”
“Actually, I need to stay as far from her as possible till my deputy shows up and I can hand off the scene. I don’t want accusations or innuendo about this investigation floating around.”
The EMTs slide the gurney into the back of the ambulance, right as my brother’s Audi speeds out of the trees and blocks the exit. Reid climbs from the car.
“Hey, buddy,” one of the EMTs shouts. “You have to move.”
Reid ignores him, dashing toward the point, his blond hair disheveled.
“Stay here,” Seton mumbles, leaving me by the tree and stepping into my brother’s path. “You can’t get any closer, Reid,” she says.
“This is my construction site,” Reid says, trying to maneuver around her.
Seton pivots to block him. I like seeing her take charge. “And it’s my crime scene,” she says.
“Not for long,” Reid says. “Everyone already knows what your crazy mother did—it’s all over the Hero Board. She started a fire and nearly got herself killed.”
I resist the temptation to step into the fray. Reid must have six inches and fifty pounds on Seton, but I suspect she could take us both down in a fight. “Don’t do something you’ll regret,” she says to Reid.
A second cruiser pulls in behind Reid’s car, and an officer gets out.
Seton holds her hands out where Reid can see them. “That’s my backup,” she says, “so my job is officially over. I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr. Kilgore. Why don’t you move your car so we can do our jobs?”
Reid shoves an index finger in Seton’s face. “If your mother isn’t booked and in prison by the end of the day, you’ll have more than me to answer to.”
“Reid,” I say, leaving my spot by the tree and joining them. “Chill, okay?”
My brother’s face softens as he takes in my appearance. “Charlie, what happened to you? You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”
“It looks worse than it is,” I say.
Reid glances at Seton. “Did your mother do this, too?” he asks.
“She didn’t do anything to me,” I say.
The EMT shouts toward Reid again.
“Could you move your car, Mr. Kilgore,” Seton says, her voice steady, her words clipped.
Reid stares her down, then turns away, phone in hand as he punches in a number and speaks to whoever picks up.
“Sorry about that,” I say. “He has a lot wrapped up in this project.”
