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“I know this kid,” she whispered quietly to herself. “Where did I just see him?”
And then it hit her.
Forty-Five
When Jayne pulled her car into the driveway, the first thing she noticed was Tyler’s bicycle, abandoned on its side, on the lawn. The second thing she noticed was that the front door had been left wide open.
Tyler usually left his bike around the back of the house, hidden from view. And he knew enough to close the door when he went into the house. Something was very wrong.
She got out of her car, and as she stepped past Tyler’s bike she noticed red smudges on the handlebars. There was also blood on the handle of the front door.
“Oh God,” Jayne said as she went inside and closed the door behind her. “Tyler!” she shouted.
No answer.
She quickly went through the first floor, looking in the kitchen, stepping out onto the back deck. She went back inside, stood at the bottom of the stairs, and shouted, “Tyler, are you here!”
Still nothing.
She got out her phone and opened the app that allowed her to know her brother’s location. According to it, Tyler, or at least his phone, was here.
Racing up the steps to the second floor, phone still in hand, she went down the hall to Tyler’s room and found the door closed. It was usually left open through the day. She rapped on it lightly.
“Tyler? You in there?”
“Go away,” he said.
Jayne opened the door. Tyler was sitting on the edge of the bed, bent over, head in his hands. He looked up as his sister stepped into the room. She could see the tears on his face.
“Tyler, what’s happened?”
He shook his head, unable to speak.
“Jesus, Tyler, talk to me. There’s blood on the front door, you— Christ, are you hurt?”
As she took a step toward him he raised his arm, palm up. “Stay back,” he said.
“Just tell me if you’re hurt. Do I need to get you to a doctor? Did you have an accident with your bike?”
“I’m not hurt,” he said, lowering his arm, allowing Jayne to take a step closer.
He was looking at her, but at the same time not looking at her. He seemed to be staring right through her, as though seeing something that wasn’t there.
“Tyler, talk to me,” Jayne said. “Are you in shock?”
Jayne was still holding her phone. She brought up Andrew’s number, tapped on it, and put the phone to her ear. After five rings, it went to voice mail.
“You’ve reached Andrew Carville. Please leave a message after the beep.”
“Andrew, it’s me. Please call the second you get this. Something’s happened.” She hit the button to end the call, then set the phone on the bedside table. She sat down on the bed next to Tyler and tentatively put her arm around him.
“Whatever’s happened, you need to tell me,” she said, noticing for the first time traces of blood on his fingers. “Whatever kind of trouble you’re in, we can fix this.”
“No,” he whispered. “No.”
“Whose blood is this?” Jayne asked, lightly touching his fingers. “Is it yours … or someone else’s?”
He put his hands to his face and started to cry. It was more than a few tears. His body went into wracking heaves as he sobbed and moaned.
