She neared the door, saw that it stood slightly ajar. Light spilled from inside. As did the smell of fried food.
She climbed the steps, knocked on the door and it swung open. 'Mrs. Pruitt,' she called. 'It's Avery Chauvin.'
No answer. She knocked and called out again, this time more loudly.
Again, only silence answered.
She stepped inside. The place was in a shambles. Furniture overturned, newspapers and take-out boxes strewn about, lamp on its side on the floor, light flickering. Her gaze landed on a dark smear across the back wall.
Avery frowned and started toward it. A radio in the other room played the classic 'Strangers in the Night.' Avery laughed nervously at how weirdly appropriate that was.
She reached the back wall. She squinted at the stain, touched it. It was wet. She turned her hand over. And red.
With a growing sense of horror, Avery turned slowly to her left. Through the doorway to the kitchen she saw a woman stretched out on the floor, back to Avery.
'Mrs. Pruitt?'
Swallowing hard, she crept forward. She reached the woman. Squatted beside her. Stretched out a hand. Touched her shoulder.
The woman rolled onto her back. The woman's eyes were open but it was her mouth that drew Avery's gaze-blood-soaked, grotesquely stretched.
With a cry, Avery scrambled backward. She slipped on the wet floor, lost her balance, landing on her behind. Blood, she realized, gazing down at herself. She had slipped in it, splattering herself, smearing it across the floor.
A sound drew her gaze. The woman blinked. Her mouth moved.
She was alive, Avery realized. She was trying to speak.
Avery righted herself and crept closer. Heart thundering, she knelt beside her, bent her head toward the woman's. A small sound escaped her-little more than a gurgle of air.
'What?' Avery asked, searching her gaze. 'What are you trying to tell me?'
Her mouth moved again. She inched her hand to Avery's, fingers clawing.
From the front room came the sound of footsteps. Avery froze. She swung her gaze to the doorway, heart thundering.
The person who had done this could still be in the house.
The sound came again. Terrified, she jumped to her feet. She looked wildly around her. No back door. Small window above the sink.
No way out.
Her gaze landed on the phone. She lunged for it.
'Police!'
Avery whirled around and found herself staring down the barrel of a gun. Her cry of relief stuck on her tongue.
'Get your hands up,' the sheriff's deputy said, voice steely. She obeyed the order. Keeping his weapon trained on her, he bent and checked the woman's pulse.
'She's alive,' Avery said, fighting hysteria. 'She was trying to tell me something. When I heard you, I thought you were the one…the one who did this.'
He unhooked his radio, called the incident in and requested an ambulance, never taking his gaze or aim off her.
'Turn around. Hands on the wall.'
She did as he ordered, the scream of sirens in the distance. Her bloody hands would leave marks on the wall, she thought, a cry rising in her throat.
The officer came up behind her. 'Feet apart.'
'You have the wrong idea. I found her this way.' When she twisted to plead her case to his face, she found herself shoved flat against the wall, his hand between her shoulder blades. Gun to her head.
'Back off, Jones! Now!'
At the sound of Matt's voice, the deputy reacted instantly, dropping his hands, stepping back.
'Matt!' Avery cried. She ran to him, and he folded her in his arms.
'Sweetheart, are you all right?'
Avery clung to him, shaking. She managed a nod, eyes welling with tears. 'The woman…is she…I thought…I heard a noise and-' She buried her face in his shoulder. 'I thought whoever had done this, that he was still here.'
He tightened his arms around her. 'Deputy Jones?'
'Received a call from a neighbor. They heard a commotion. What sounded like a gunshot. When I arrived, I found the door open and interior ransacked. I called for assistance and made my way in here. I found the suspect kneeling over the victim.'
'I found her this way!' Avery looked up at Matt. 'The door was open…I called her name. She didn't answer, so I made my way in. I-'
The paramedics arrived then, interrupting her, shouting orders, pushing her and Matt toward the door. Behind them waited several more deputies, ready to process the scene the moment the paramedics gave the okay.
Holding her close to his side, Matt led her from the kitchen through the living room and outside. As they made their way out, her toe caught on the frog and it toppled into the garden. They descended the steps and crossed to two rickety lawn chairs set up around a kid's inflatable wading pool. Yellow crime scene tape had already been stretched around the perimeter of the trailer; a deputy stood sentinel, watching the group of neighbors who had come out to gawk.
'Sit,' Matt said. 'I have to go now. I need you to wait here. We're going to need to question you.' He searched her expression. 'Will you be all right?'
She nodded. 'I'll be okay.'
He squeezed her hands, then turned toward the deputy. 'Make sure nobody bothers her. If she has any problems, come get me.'
Avery watched him go, an intense sense of loss settling over her. She bit her bottom lip to keep from calling him back and sank onto the chair, the woven seat sagging dangerously.
'You all right?'
She glanced at the deputy, a baby-faced young man who hardly looked old enough to be out past ten, let alone to carry a weapon. She nodded. 'The woman…is she Trudy Pruitt?'
The kid looked surprised by her question. And rightly so, she supposed, considering the circumstances. He answered anyway. 'Uh-huh. Waitresses over at the Hard Eight.'
The pool hall.
Avery hugged herself, the woman's image filling her head. Her vacant stare. Her slack mouth. The feel of her fingers clawing at Avery's.
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, attempting to block out the images. They played on anyway. The woman's bloody mouth moving, the tiny puff of breath against her cheek. Blood, everywhere.
The paramedics came out. Avery opened her eyes at the sound. One looked her way. Their eyes met. In his she saw regret. Apology.
Her breath caught. She shifted her gaze. No stretcher.
They passed her. Climbed into the ambulance. Slammed the doors shut, the sound heavy. Final.
'Avery?'
She turned. Matt stood in the trailer doorway. She got to her feet; he started toward her.
'She didn't make it,' she said when he reached her.
'No.'
He caught her hands. 'What are you doing here, Avery?'
She blinked, confused. 'Pardon?'
'Tonight, what brought you here?'
