Sidetracked-Kobo (7 page)

“I’m sorry.” The detective spoke so calmly it made her want to slap him. “There are still things you and I need to talk about—”

“You’re not even listening!”

The detective sat back and spread his hands. As if to say, go ahead, yell it out. So she did. She spewed it all out there, even though he’d heard it before. Finding her mother. The blood. The stunned
disbelief
. Wanting her dad. Her neighbors all looking at her. And people in the police station looking. Her aunt’s phone had rung, rung, rung in the last few hours, all her friends somehow tracking her down, wanting to know what happened. Laura hadn’t wanted to talk to any of them. She didn’t know
how
to talk. She only knew how to say nothing and broil inside, or scream like she was doing now. There was no in between. There was no normal living. And she just wanted to go back to Aunt Nicky’s and be
left alone!

Laura’s tirade ran out. She found herself leaning over the table, breathing hard, spittle on her chin. She swiped it off. The detective looked at her, waiting for more. But nothing would come. Only emptiness, and tears, and a dizzy wail in her head. Laura swayed, then slumped back down in her chair.

God, where are you? I’m dying here.
She was a Christian, so was her mom. They’d tried to live right. How could He let this happen?

The detective stood. “I’m going to get you some water. Be right back.”

She stared dully across the room. Wouldn’t matter what he brought her, she wouldn’t drink it.

But when he set a glass of water in front of her, she guzzled half of it down.

Detective Standish slipped back into his seat. “You ready to answer a few more questions now? It won’t take long.”

Laura closed her eyes, too tired to fight anymore. She nodded.

He asked her about her relationship with her mother. Did they ever argue? Laura hated to admit they did. How could she have ever treated her mom that way?

“Did you have an argument recently?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“You need to talk about it.”

There it was again. That edge in his tone.

“Fine. We had an argument two days ago. We made up last night.”

Just imagine if they hadn’t. If the last time she’d talked to her mom, they’d been
fighting
. Laura shivered.

“What were you arguing about?”

“Nothing important.”

“I’d like to hear about it.”

“It
wasn’t important
.”

“Okay. What do you know about your mother’s will?”

Laura screwed up her face at the sudden change in topic. “I don’t know anything about her will.”

“You know she inherited a lot of money from her own mother when she died last year?”

“Yeah.”

“How much money?”

“I don’t know.”

“How much did your mother plan to leave to you in the event of her death?”

“I have no idea. Why would I even think about that?”

“Did she ever talk to you about her will?”

“No.”

“Did you know she redid it a few months ago?”

“No.”

“You had no idea.”

“No.”

“You told me you had a lot of talks with your mom.”

“I did.”

“But she never talked to you about her will?”

“I just
told
you—
no.”

Detective Standish flexed his shoulders. “Tell me about those footprints you saw. On the carpet.”

Another topic change. Was he doing this to throw her off? Why? Wasn’t he supposed to be
helping
her and her dad? “I already did. And you saw them—you were in the house.”

“Where were they leading?”

Laura had to think about that. “They went into my bedroom. But then they stopped.”

“Why do you think they stopped?”

“I don’t know.”

“And you’re sure you haven’t changed your shoes today. You wore the blue pair all day?”

Back to this again. Laura sighed. “Yes.”

Detective Standish shifted in his chair. Rubbed his chin. “We found another pair of sneakers in your closet. These were green. They were hidden under a pile of dirty clothes.”

Laura’s back straightened. “What were you doing in my closet?”

“We needed to look all through the house—”

“But why
my
closet?” That was
her
stuff, her life. To think of this man and who knew who else going through
her
stuff.

“Are there things in there you wouldn’t want us to see?”

Was this man a moron? “I don’t want you going through my things!”

“Tell me about your green shoes.”

Huh?
“What about them?”

“When’s the last time you wore them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Today? Yesterday?”

“I
told
you I didn’t wear them today.”

“Then when?”

“I
don’t know
.”

Detective Standish planted his arms on the table and leaned forward. His eyes lasered right through her. “Laura. We found blood on those shoes.”

She stilled. “What?”

“You have any idea why that would be?”

“There’s no blood on those shoes.”

“How do you know?”

“Because they’re
mine
. I’d know if I got blood on them. Besides, how would I do that?”

“You tell me.”

“I wouldn’t. I didn’t.”

The detective surveyed her. “So you have no idea how the blood got there?”

“No.”

He nodded. Gazed away for a moment. “You know we’re going to test that blood.”

“Test it for what?”

“To see if it matches your mother.”

The words hit her deep in the gut. “What are you
talking
about?”

“You tell me, Laura. Do you think it will?”

What was happening here? “Why would it?”

“We’ll have the results in a few days. You might want to go ahead and tell us now.”

“Tell you what?”

“How the blood got on your shoes.”

“I don’t
know!”
She glared at him.
“And I don’t believe you anyway.”

“Okay.” He looked downward for a moment, as if processing. “I’ll need those shoes now.” He pointed to her feet.

“Right now?”

He nodded.

“What if I said you can’t have ’em? You already took my other pair.”

“I’m sorry, but I need them. Please take them off.”

Laura felt her jaw go rock hard. She pushed back from the table and flung her upper body over to yank at her shoes. She sat up and slapped them down on the table. “There. Happy now?”

The detective’s expression never changed. Just that same placid face, like she wasn’t yelling at him, like she wasn’t about to
strangle his neck
. He picked up one of the shoes and turned it over.

It had blood on the sole.

Laura jerked back. Her eyes filled with tears. Her mother’s dried blood, on the bottom of her
shoes
. She brought a hand to her mouth, pressed her lips hard. The detective watched her cry, saying nothing.

She hiccupped inside, pulled herself together. “I … didn’t know that was there. I guess I walked in it when …”

The picture came roaring back for the millionth time. The footprints. The blood. Her mother’s body …

Laura gulped the rest of her water.

The detective leaned forward, gazing at the tops of her shoes. What was he looking at? He sat back. “So you say you got blood on the bottom of these shoes when you came inside the house today and found your mom.”

She nodded. Her throat got all cloggy again. She didn’t want to cry anymore.

Detective Standish rubbed his temple. “Here’s the thing, Laura. You see the tops of these shoes? There’s no tiny blood spots—at least that I can see right now—on the top of them. We call those tiny spots blood spatter. They happen when someone is hit with a heavy object. The blood sprays out in all directions—”

“I know what blood spatter is.” Laura couldn’t decide if her voice sounded hard … or dead. “I watch cop shows too.”

He ignored the cutting remark. “Okay. Those other shoes we took from your closet—the green ones? They had blood on the soles, like these. They also had blood spatter across the tops.”

Laura listed her head to one side. It felt so heavy. “So …”

“It tells us those shoes were present at the time your mother was attacked.”

She frowned at him. “Somebody wore my shoes?”

“Looks like it.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Would you like to tell me why?”

“I have no idea!”

He lifted his chin in a slow nod. “Another thing about those shoes. The pattern on the sole is a little different than these.” He picked up one of the shoes from the table and turned it over. “See this, the way these spokes go out from the middle? Your other pair has more of a zigzag geometric pattern. That pattern matches the footprints on the carpet in your house. The prints leading away from your parents’ bedroom into
your
room.”

Laura could only stare at him. Her brain refused to put it all together.

“Why do you think the pattern on that pair of shoes matches the prints on the carpet, Laura?”

“I don’t know.”

“You must have an idea.”

Some pathway in her soggy brain cleared. “Are you telling me that someone came into our house, put on my shoes, attacked my mom, then took off my shoes and put them back in the closet? That’s
insane.
Why would anybody do that?”

Why would anybody kill her mom at all?

Detective Standish gave her a long, hard look. “No. I’m not saying that.” He kept looking at her, until her skin felt all crawly. Until she wanted to slide right under the table, away from those eyes.

“There’s something else we found in your closet, hidden underneath that pile of dirty clothes.”

Laura stilled. She couldn’t imagine what he was talking about, but the tone of his voice said it was bad.

“We found a hammer. Looks like it belongs to a set of tools from your garage.”

Laura screwed up her face. A
hammer?
Underneath her clothes?

“Laura. That hammer has blood on it.”

Slowly she leaned forward, her eyes never leaving his face. “Blood?” She could only whisper the word.

He nodded.

“My … mom’s?” Her whole body started to tingle.

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know. Why would it be?”

Why
wouldn’t
it be? It wasn’t her own.

“We’ll test it. Like the blood on your shoes.”

Laura swallowed, struggling to understand. She got it, really. Deep down. But it just didn’t make any sense.

“Do you think somebody used that hammer to kill my mom?”

“Looks that way. She has marks on her face and skull fractures that match indentations that hammer would make.”

Skull fractures. “You mean someone hit her in the
head
with it?”

The detective gave that slow nod of his. “Many times.”

All the blood. That’s where it had come from—her head? She’d been hit so hard her skull broke. Nausea rippled through Laura. “You have to find out who did this.”

“I agree. I think it’s time you told me about it, Laura.”

Her mind wouldn’t compute. Didn’t
want
to compute. “Tell you what?”

“What really happened.”

“I already told you what happened. Twice.”

“I don’t think you’ve been telling me the truth.”

She stared at him, heart fluttering. “Why do you think that?”

He shifted in his chair. “You remember when your dad first got to the house? You were out on the lawn. You hugged him. Remember what you said over and over?”

She shook her head.

“You said, ‘I didn’t mean it.’”

Oh. Yeah.

“What were you talking about?”

Laura dropped her chin. “I was fighting with my mom the day before—I told you that. And after I … saw her, I felt so bad about it.”

“So when you said ‘I didn’t mean it’—what did
it
refer to exactly?”

“Everything I’d said when I was mad at her. The whole fight.”

“I see.” The detective scratched his cheek. “Why would you think of fighting with her after you’d just found her dead?”

Laura’s heart wouldn’t stop fluttering. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“You don’t want to tell me what happened?”

“I’ve already told you what happened! What are you, stupid?”

He shot her a long look. “Laura, you haven’t. I know you haven’t. Because nothing you’ve told me lines up with the evidence.”

“Well, it’s the truth.”

“There are fingerprints on that hammer.”

“Good. Maybe that’ll tell you who did this.”

“We’re going to test them against your fingerprints.”

She raised a shoulder.

“Have you touched that hammer?”

“No.”

“You’ve never touched that hammer. So we won’t find your prints on it.”

A memory flashed. “Oh, wait. Last week I used a hammer. I put up a picture in my bedroom.”

“What picture?”

“Of me and Kylie. She took it with her camera, and it turned out really cool. She printed it out on a big piece of paper and gave it to me. I nailed it on my wall. Then I think I just left the hammer on my dresser. I didn’t put it back in the garage.”

“And this was what day?”

Who cared? “I don’t remember.”

“Would your dad know?”

“My dad never goes in my room.”

Detective Standish sat back and sighed. “You know what, I’m getting tired of this. It’s time you told me the truth.”

Of all the—
“You’re
getting tired of it? How about
me?
”

“Then tell me what really happened.”

“I
have told you!”

He pulled in a long breath, his voice softening. “Sometimes people make mistakes. I think
you
made a mistake. I don’t think you walked in the door of your house planning on killing your mom. But things got out of control. And, Laura, now you need to do the right thing. You need to tell me the truth. It will go much better for you if you do. So please, help me help
you
.”

Laura stared at him. This guy was out of his mind.

A long minute ticked by. Detective Standish spread both hands, as if to say
come on.
Laura shook her head.