“Gorey, my love?” Sammy called.
“Coming,” I murmured, stepping into the room.
He smiled, holding up an owl with glowing red eyes.
“I thought we’d name him Igor?”
I sighed and nodded. I couldn’t ruin Sammy’s favorite night. Tomorrow we’d talk and settle all the secrets, once and for all.
CHAPTER 25
Now
Corrie
“Start at the beginning,” Detective Collins said.
I stared at him. The first time I’d met him, his blond hair had been messy, hanging on his forehead. He had since sheared it off, giving him a hardened military look. Blond hair sprouted from his upper lip, revealing he’d skipped a shave for a day or two.
Sammy couldn’t miss a day shaving unless he wanted a full beard in three.
“How many times can I start at the beginning, Detective?” I asked. “You think if I tell the story enough times, some new piece of information will suddenly pop out of my mouth?”
“You’d be amazed how stories change with several re-tellings.”
“Yeah, because the witness is exhausted, confused, and likely questioning their own version of events after three hours in this fucking room with fluorescent lights that make my brains feel like they’re sizzling in a frying pan.”
“One more time, and then you’re free to go.”
“I know my rights,” I grumbled. “I’m already free to go.” But to appease the man who I believed was hunting me, I talked.
“On Halloween day, I woke up at six a.m., a typical time for me. Sammy was already in the kitchen making coffee and breakfast for Isis. He made her pancakes and fruit. We sat in the great room and drank our coffee. Around nine a.m., Sammy drove Isis to his mom’s house and dropped her off while I started making food for the party. He got home around ten a.m. Sarah showed up a few minutes later. We decorated for the party until five.”
“That’s a lot of decorating.”
“Is that a question?”
The detective shrugged, and I tried not to grab the edge of the table and shake it. I wanted out of there, but I hated to face Sarah.
How had the bird gotten onto the counter beneath my knife? A long sweater concealed the bandaged gashes on my hands and arms. I had been lucky the police had not handcuffed me, because they would surely have seen them.
“We decorated until five. The house is huge, it took a long time. I went upstairs to get dressed, and Sammy came in before I finished.” I paused, hating to recount this again, missing Sammy with each retelling. “We made love and then we both got into our costumes.”
The detective said nothing, and I hurried on.
“At six, guests arrived. We all started to drink pretty heavily.”
“And it was typical for you and Sammy to indulge in so much alcohol?”
“On Halloween it was.”
The detective nodded.
“I started off drinking zombie cocktails, switched to rum and Coke. At some point Sammy gave me a few jello shots a guest had brought. We danced. I talked to a lot of people, some of which I remember, but some I’m sure I don’t. After dark I wandered upstairs and sat in the bathroom. I was dizzy and thought I might get sick. The feeling passed.” Corrie replayed the night’s events, her voice flat. She refused to reveal even a hint of emotion to the detective. “I returned to the party. I saw Sammy talking with Jack Williams, another comic book artist, on the porch. After that, everything gets grainy. I think he and I danced again. I vaguely remember hugging Sarah goodbye. And then… nothing.”
The detective put his large hands, knuckles scabbed as if he’d recently punched someone, on the table.
“And after you woke up?”
I rubbed my eyes, careful to keep my sleeves pulled over my hands, and leaned back in my chair.
“I woke up on the couch. I was dizzy and nauseous. I went into the kitchen and saw the rags by the sink. I looked out the window and saw Sammy in the yard beneath the oak tree. I knew…”
“That he was dead?”
“That something was wrong.”
“How?”
I stared at the cheap particle-board table, the little black specks swimming in my gaze.
I didn’t have to imagine Sammy’s crumpled body every time I told the story, and yet I did.
“I just knew. I ran out of the house. He was covered in blood. His body was cool to the touch and not soft, not like him at all. I…” In my mind he was there again, those empty staring eyes. “I pulled his head into my lap and cried. I couldn’t bear it. I lost connection with reality, I guess. I was still drunk, and I was so overwhelmed. After a few minutes, I just stood up and walked into the lake. It was so cold, and my dress was heavy and I walked out. And then Sarah found me.”
“Why didn’t you call the police? An ambulance to help Sammy.”
I stared into the detective’s eyes, cold and hard. He did not care that I died with Sammy that night. He had one goal in this room: to get me to slip up, to incriminate myself.
“He was dead. Maybe you can’t understand the feeling of a moment like that. It was like I woke up and everyone in the world had died, and I was left here alone without an identity, without an anchor to this place. I couldn’t call anyone. I couldn’t breathe, think. I still can’t most days. Do you know what happens every morning when I wake up? I forget he’s dead. Just for a few seconds, as I’m coming back into the world, I wake up as the same old Corrie. Corrie and Sammy. And then like a tidal wave it rolls over me, pushes me under. I lay there struggling to breathe. After I finally calm down, I have to will myself out of bed. It’s almost impossible. If it weren’t for Isis, I doubt I’d get up at all.”
“Then why did you kill him, Corrie?”
The detective’s question hung in the air between us, the accusation he’d wanted to make for weeks, perhaps since the first moment we met.
“I think it’s time I speak with my lawyer.”
Sarah
“THEY’RE NOT CHARGING HER,” the lawyer explained, adjusting his round spectacles on his long, narrow face.
“They put her in the police car, they read her the Miranda rights,” Sarah rushed. “Doesn’t that mean…?
He shook his head.
“A misunderstanding by the deputies sent to pick her up. At least they’re calling it that, but I’ve seen some shady dealings in my time, and nothing breaks a person like getting shoved into the back of a squad car.”
“But she’s not arrested?” Sarah asked again, leaning back relieved.
“No. Not today, anyway.”
“What does that mean?”
The lawyer, Doug Fenton of Fenton, Williams and Associates, planted both palms on the table and looked Sarah square in the face.
“They want her for this, Sarah. I saw the look in that detective’s eye when I walked into the interrogation room. Let’s just say, if they found so much as Corrie’s broken fingernail by Sammy’s body, they’ll use it.”
“Corrie found him, for Christ’s sakes!” Sarah bellowed. “Of course they’ll find a fingernail and hair and skin and whatever other evidence they were collecting for two days, but-”
“The detective mentioned Corrie’s dress from that night. He said you burned it.”