to wheeze and chirrup like a tractor straining up a hill.
She shook her head slowly and held her arms out, her purse still clutched in one hand. “Come hold me.”
God save him, Brad did. Now they were both in my line of sight. She wrapped her arms around him and dipped her head into his chest. “I’m guilty,” she whispered. “I did it. I killed Webber and I shot my mom.”
Brad laughed uncomfortably but didn’t push her away. Her purse fell to the ground, and in her hand and behind his back was a gun. I choked.
“We could go out like Thelma and Louise,” she sighed, slowly raising the barrel of the pistol to the back of his neck.
I powered through my fear and yelled. Kenya staggered back and pointed the gun toward the closet door. Without time to think, I stood and pushed it open and found myself staring into the bottomless black barrel of her pistol. The whole scene felt slow-moving and ridiculous, way more watery and surreal than in the movies. It didn’t have to end this way. But Kenya’s eyes were lit by crazy, and the three of us were not walking out of here. Her finger clenched against the trigger. Brad whimpered but didn’t move. This must have felt as inevitable to him as it did to me.
And then the front door exploded.
28
Deputy Wohnt led the charge but two plainclothes officers were directly on his heels. I was still partially in the closet and obliged immediately with the command. Brad also dropped to the ground and then scurried past me so he was fully in the closet.
Kenya did not respond. She studied the three men, guns drawn, their breath coming in adrenaline bursts, exactly like she’d studied me the first time we’d met at the side of the stage on debate day. She was a hawk, recording every detail before deciding whether they were worth her attention. Her gun had been hanging at her side but she drew it slowly up, swiveling the end toward her face. I lunged forward to grab it, but Wohnt was quicker. He fired a single shot at her right shoulder and she dropped her weapon and crumpled.
One of the officers moved swiftly to retrieve the pistol and the other called for an ambulance on his shoulder unit.
“Are you okay?”
Wohnt had crossed the room in three strides. He made a move to reach toward me but stopped abruptly, turning back to focus on Kenya. He flipped her over. Her eyes were open and she was shivering. There wasn’t much blood, even when he ripped her shirt open to get a clear look at the wound. “I need a blanket and a clean towel.”
I followed his orders as best I could. My legs were shaky but they carried me into Brad’s bedroom and then bathroom. I was distantly relieved to see the latest issue of
They hauled her out, and Wohnt and the remaining officer stayed behind. Wohnt turned to me, fire blazing in his eyes. He shoved me onto the couch and stood over me. “This the sting?”
At first I couldn’t meet his gaze, adrenaline and shock swirling dangerously fast in my stomach. Then I remembered that discomfort and indignation were close cousins and I shot to my feet, jabbing him in the chest with my finger. “I asked for your help but you weren’t interested. Said my gerbil turd theory was stupid. Said that wasn’t enough to go on.” I walked angrily toward the closet, knocking Wohnt out of the way. I leaned forward and snaked my arm down the back of still-cowering Brad’s shirt. A loud ripping sound followed by a sad squeal from Brad, and I had the tape recorder in hand. “Here. Why don’t you see if that’s enough to go on.”
Wohnt’s eyes were glittering dangerously. “What will I hear if I listen to this?”
“Kenya confessing to killing Webber. And her mother.”
The other officer came up behind Gary and clapped him on the shoulder. “You were right about her.”
They exchanged a look, and I couldn’t read either damn one of their faces. Hysteria and rage vied for position in my cluttered head. “Right about what? Right that you should listen to me more? Right that I was right and you were wrong?”
My voice went a little screechy as the reality of what had just happened closed over me. “Right that all the men in my life are either too good for me, dead, or fiberglass statues?”
“I’m not too good for you!” Brad said from the closet.
“Shut up.” I shoved my hands on my hips. “Right that you can get me to confess to Watergate with that cop stare of yours, and that I’m an eyelash shy of a nervous breakdown and that I would have been better off moving to Siberia than Battle Lake and that I’m going to die a lonely old cat lady?”
Gary was vibrating ever so slightly, and I thought he was going to yell at me before I realized he was laughing.
His back-up shook his head in wonder. “Yup, absolutely right.”
29
“What does that even mean?” I couldn’t believe how lovely she looked in the white wedding gown. It was two weeks since her car accident, and although the bruises on her face had faded to the color of dirt smudges and she was still crutch-bound, she glowed. The dress was shamelessly white and flowing and fitted at the top to display more cleavage than I’d ever seen on her. As her matron of honor, something she insisted on calling me given what she referred to as my “geriatric” sex life, I was at the Senior Sunset curling her hair and helping her with her makeup. I didn’t know how to do either so she mostly shooed me away and took care of business herself, as usual. She insisted I fill her in on every speck of what she referred to as the “Gerbil Turd Sting.”
“I don’t know. Tell me again what you spewed toward the end?”
I told her. It didn’t get better in the telling.
“Ah. I retract my first answer. My best guess is that Wohnt has been telling people that you’re a nice girl who needs to get laid in the worst way.”
“Nobody
“Speak for yourself.”
I wasn’t going to argue. She was the expert at this table. I indicated the front of her dress. “Where’ve you been hiding those boobs, anyway?”
“When you get to be my age, you just roll ‘em up. Your cups runneth over even if it takes a while to locate your nipples.” She dusted glittery powder over her soft and wrinkled skin. “So you didn’t finish your story. What’s going to happen to that crazy girl Africa now that you got her confession on tape?”
“Kenya. And since she confessed again to killing Webber and her mom on the way to the hospital, I think she’s going away for good. Her dad’s found her a good lawyer, though, so you never know.”
“She say why she did it?”
I shook my head. “Not really. Just that she hated her mom and wasn’t going to let her continue to ruin lives.”
Mrs. Berns tsked. “Makes my kids look like angels for only wanting to incarcerate me in a maximum security
