Kellianne felt her heart totally hammering in her chest. She tried to imagine what they would say if-
Kev stopped, backed up close until he was right in front of them, as if to hide the unlikely trio from the road.
The guy got even heavier. His head lolled to one side, his bristly white hair grazing her mouth. She. Was going. To die.
The car was headed right toward them.
No one said a word.
The car whooshed past. Its piercing blue headlights grazed the surface of the walk, but no light touched them. The driver didn’t even slow down. Kellianne held her breath as it pulled away, leaving them in the dark.
It wasn’t dark enough to keep her from seeing the guy’s mouth hanging open, eyeglasses about to fall off. She looked down at the flagstone path, trying to keep his image out of her brain. Her boots were muddy, glistening with slush. His feet were twisted, shoes coming unlaced, now his feet were facing in, no one’s feet could ever naturally do that. She remembered to breathe, then looked up, at the road, at the disappearing taillights, at Kev. Anywhere but at him.
“Toldja.” Kevin was waving them forward with a “hurry-up” spiral of one gloved hand. “Make it look like you’ve got to get him to the car. He’s not dead, you know? He just had a stroke or something.”
“And then what?” Keefer, lugging his half of the load, turned to her in the murky pool of the streetlight, muttering, as they crossed the road, step by ridiculous step. “We’re gonna put him-”
Kevin got to the curb, then faced them, hands on hips. “Look. If we call the cops, and they find him in her house, they’re gonna know we were inside early. If they know we were inside early, we are ska-rooed. You know the deal.”
“Yeah, but-” Keefer was frowning.
“Yeah, but nothing. Who’s to know where he had his heart attack or whatever? Right?” Kevin kept talking, his voice low and persuasive. “Right? So, listen. It’s all good. He had keys, remember? We’ve gotta find them to get him back into the car.”
“I’m not looking in his freakin’-”
“Shut up, princess. I’ll hold him up while you-”
Kevin took the last three steps to the car, and tried the driver’s side door. “Hey, no way. The door’s already open. How great is that?”
He still wore his gloves, Kellianne saw.
She frowned the whole time as she helped Keefer slide the guy behind the wheel. Keef had picked him up like a baby, plopped him in the front seat. She’d stuffed his legs into place, wincing as she saw his head bonk against the steering wheel.
She stood up, took one step away from the car, keeping her hand on the door handle.
“He’s in. We done? I’m closing this door.”
“Shit.” Keefer was pushing her aside, leaning in over the guy. “Holy…”
“What?” Kev whispered.
“What?” Kellianne whispered.
“He’s not breathing anymore.” Keef’s voice was weird, all freaked out. “Look. See that?”
“You sure?” This sucked, Kellianne thought. Sucked bad.
“You wanna check up close, little sis?” Keefer twisted around, cocking his head toward the body.
“Close the door,” Kev ordered. He pointed at Keef. “Now. If he’s dead, he’s dead.”
Keef reached for the door handle.
“Softly!” Kevin hissed.
The door clicked shut with a muffled thud. Kellianne looked around, eyes darting from house to house. Nothing. No lights flipped on. No sirens screamed down the street, not even a dog barked. Only the wind twisting through the bare rustling branches of the trees, and the three Sessions, standing by a dead guy.
“Don’t you morons see? This is better.” Kevin widened his eyes and held out both hands, like he was trying to convince a little kid. “Now he can’t talk about seeing us. Right? Or tell what happened. He can’t-jeez. Come on, we need to get back inside.”
Kellianne trotted after her brothers, across the street and back up the flagstone walk, considering. Better? It could work either way, she supposed.
If they got into trouble, like the cops started asking questions, well, none of it was her idea and nobody could say it was. And if it actually worked, if, like, the cops thought this guy had his heart attack behind the wheel, maybe, felt bad, pulled over, then died, well, that wasn’t her fault, either. Shit happens.
Then she thought of something. Something not good at all. She had to tell Kevin. He was about to open the door, and she’d better stop him.
“Hey. Kev.”
Kevin had left everything unlocked. He was pulling open the white-trimmed storm door but turned to her, his stupid cap all sideways but his stupid sunglasses still in place.
“What, for godsake? We need to get inside.” He turned the brass knob of the front door, and pushed it open.
“I’m just saying.” Kellianne, the last one in, closed the storm door behind her. They stood in the entryway, looking into the living room. Only the puffy couch pillows that had fallen, haphazard, onto the dead woman’s expensive-looking rug betrayed anything unusual happening inside. “You’re so smart and all, but this guy had a key to the house, right? So it seems like he had to know the dead woman. So aren’t the police gonna connect-”
“If they do, Miss Buzzkill,” Kev interrupted her, she hated that, “they’re gonna think he was on his way to see her, right? Maybe he didn’t know she was dead. I mean, obviously he didn’t. Why would you come visit a dead person?”
Kevin was sneering again. She hated that, too. He kept talking, his eyes all sneery, like she was so dumb.
“Right, princess? But he never made it inside. Because the door was sealed with crime tape. And we’re gonna do that right now. Capisce?”
“Yeah, capisce?” Keefer echoed. He stabbed two forefingers at her, poking the air. “We got nothing to do with that guy. Okay? And we’re gonna seal the door when we leave.”
Keef turned and looked back through the storm door. Kev did, too. So did Kellianne. The three remained silent for a moment. Staring across the street.
In the glow of the streetlight, Kellianne could make out the man’s body, head down, sitting behind the steering wheel. Kind of, she guessed, like he’d just parked there. Maybe getting ready to open his door. Which, come to think of it, was exactly what he had done about twenty minutes earlier.
Maybe this would work.
“Okay,” Kellianne said.
34
“Why would you think she’d be home, Tuck? Shouldn’t you call?” Jane watched the numbers on the gas pump fly by as she filled her Audi with unleaded. Not exactly how she’d planned to spend her Tuesday morning, but then, nothing in her life was going as planned. Frankly, that was becoming a pattern.
Her hand nearly froze to the pump handle, but self-serve was cheaper. If it turned out her job was in the Register’s budgetary gun sights, she’d be wise to keep expenses down. And she should have worn a hat. She wrapped the end of her plaid muffler around her other hand. Freezing.
Freezing and banished.
Tuck had her passenger-side window open and was pecking at the keys on the car’s GPS. “She lives there, that’s why,” Tuck said. “It’s not where we met, remember, but I know… hang on a second, I can’t talk to you and enter the address at the same time.”
Banished from the Register. So ridiculous.
“I know, Mom, glass half full,” Jane muttered at the flashing numbers. Come to think of it, she should remember that. She wasn’t banished from journalism. She could work on a different story, and she didn’t need to go into some building to do it. Eventually, Alex would love it and Tay Reidy would unbanish her and all would be well.
It could happen. Might as well believe it.