I hear Gina moving about in the kitchen and duck toward the front door, suddenly afraid of having to face her. I ease the door open, step through, and am about to ease it closed again when I hear a loud bang from within the house. I pause and look back down the hallway, my hand on the doorknob, my mind already screaming in denial.
Gina appears at the other end of the hall, sees me, and cocks her head to one side, her face wearing a puzzled expression. I watch as her eyes flit toward the door to Sid’s den, then back to me. It seems like an eternity that we stand there just staring at one another, yet I know it is mere seconds, a meager breath of time wherein we both cling desperately to our doubts and denial, feeble as they are. For I know what that sound was. I don’t want to know, but I do.
And judging from the look on Gina’s face, she knows, too. As she stares at me, I think I see something else there as welclass="underline" accusation and blame. Much as I would like to shrug it off, I can’t. She is right. I try to offer her an apology with my eyes but all I can feel coming through is the terrible weight of my guilt.
Gina shifts her gaze back to the den door and slowly walks toward it. She looks like a zombie operating off of some ancient instinct that is pulling her toward a fate she neither wants nor understands. I don’t want it either; I don’t want her to go there, to look in the den and make it all real. For a brief moment I seriously consider running down the hall and tackling her to the floor. Anything to stop her. But she keeps on going and I keep on watching. As she opens the door and looks inside, I hold my breath.
She rushes into the room and my hope surges. When nothing happens for several seconds, I slowly start moving back toward the den, still clinging to my denial even as an all-too-familiar scent reaches my nostrils. I hear a faint thump and something about it makes my nurse’s training kick in. Shaking off my daze, I hurry the last few steps toward the room, thinking, hoping, it might not be too late.
Chapter 33
It is definitely too late. Sid’s body sits on that lovely butter-soft couch, his head hanging forward, a growing pool of blood gathering in his lap. The back of the couch and part of the wall behind it is painted in red gore. Sid’s right hand lays open, palm up. Beside it is a revolver.
Gina is sitting in the chair where Sid was moments before, staring at her husband, her face curiously blank. I move closer to Sid and see that while the wound in his head isn’t nearly as severe as Mike Halverson’s was, his situation is no less grave. I can see bits of gray matter clinging to both his skull and the wall behind him.
I stare at Sid’s chest and see he isn’t breathing. I don’t bother to check for a pulse because I know that surviving a head wound such as this is nigh onto impossible.
I turn back to Gina and find her staring at me, her eyes searching mine with begging appeal. I shake my head and feel my heart clench as the light of hope in her eyes extinguishes itself.
“I’m sorry, Gina. So sorry.”
She says nothing, does nothing. Her lifeless expression frightens me.
“We need to call the police,” I say gently.
She nods then, mechanically.
I look over at the phone on Sid’s desk and start to reach for it. But then I remember what I’ve learned about crime scene preservation and how I managed to mess up the two I’ve been to so far.
“Come on, Gina,” I say, urging her gently. “Let’s wait somewhere else.”
I take her elbow and she rises from her chair like a robot. As she shuffles forward, one foot catches itself along the edge of the rug and she nearly falls. I hold her arm tight as she disentangles her foot and lets the rug fall back down against the chair legs. Then I steer her gently out into the hall and we enter the living room, where she sinks into a chair.
I move back out into the hallway, pull my cell phone out of my jacket pocket, flip it open, and punch in 9-1-1. Gina does nothing. She just sits there, not crying, not moving, staring empty-eyed off into space. I fear she is in shock and worry that she might try to do something desperate herself.
My anxiety isn’t relieved any when my call goes through and I recognize the voice on the other end. It is Jeannie, the same woman who answered when I called about Mike Halverson.
“9-1-1 operator. Do you have an emergency?”
“Jeannie?”
“Yes, this is Jeannie. Do you have an emergency?”
“Kind of,” I say, realizing that this sort of call is getting uncomfortably close to becoming a habit. I move away from Gina and lower my voice. “I have a death here. A suicide. He shot himself in the head.”
There is the briefest of pauses, then, “Mattie? Is that you?”
“It is.”
“And you really have another dead man?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Do you know who this one is?”
“Yes, it’s Sidney Carrigan. Dr. Sidney Carrigan.”
I hear Jeannie gasp, which isn’t surprising. Pretty much everyone in the county knows the Carrigans. But she recovers quickly. “Give me the address.”
I do so.
“Okay, I’m dispatching police and rescue now. They should be there in five minutes or less.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you okay, Mattie?”
“I’m pretty shook up, but I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. We’ll keep talking until someone arrives.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I am impressed. Jeannie is getting better at this pretty fast.
“Um, how dead is this one?” she asks me.
“Very.”
“No point in making any rescue attempts?”
“Nope.”
“For my records, can you describe the extent of the wounds?”
I do so, trying to be as sterile as I can when describing the grimmer parts, keeping a wary eye on Gina the whole time. She still hasn’t moved.
“Is anyone else there?” Jeannie asks.
“Yes, Sid’s wife, Gina.”
“Is she okay?”
“As okay as you might expect, I guess. She may be a bit shocky.” Off in the distance, I hear a siren.
“Officer Childs should be pulling up any second now, Mattie,” Jeannie says.
Ah, Brian again. That is good, I suppose. “Thanks, Jeannie. You did really good this time.”
“Thank you. I’ve been practicing.”
Out the front door, which is still open, I see a squad car pull up. “Brian just arrived,” I inform Jeannie. “So I’ll let you go.”
“Okay. Take care of yourself, you hear?”
“I will, Jeannie. You, too.”
I meet Brian at the front door so Gina won’t be able to hear me and quickly fill him in on the highlights: Sid’s affair with Mike Halverson, their HIV status, David’s ultimatum to Sidney, and then finally, my visit, ending with the sound of the gunshot. I also let him know that I am unsure how much of this Gina knows. Brian asks me to wait and heads inside. After a quick look around the den, he steps across the hall to the living room and focuses on Gina.
A rescue squad pulls up and after assuring the techs that I am okay, I direct them inside. Then I collapse on the front stoop, wanting to cry, but too tired and drained to summon up any tears. Instead, I just sit there listening to the wind and welcoming the fading warmth of the sun on my face. Moments later another squad car arrives and right behind it comes Hurley.
He parks and stares at me through his window for a moment. Then he shakes his head and gets out. “Are you all right?” he asks, stopping in front of me.
I nod without looking up at him.
“Okay. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He disappears into the house and I hear the low murmur of voices. A few minutes later, Hurley comes back outside and settles down beside me on the porch.