Page 60 of Bad Intentions

“What happened?” I asked, staring at the puddle of blood on the floor. Alysha’s hands were covered in it. Victoria’s too.

“I don’t know, Mom. He was here. He was like this. I don’t know. He was already like this.”

I stepped closer, my eyes on Dougie’s face, his eyes open and not blinking. That’s when it hit me. He was dead.

Oh, god…

Next to him lay a hammer. “Who touched this?” I asked calmly, though my head was spinning.

Victoria, her chest shaking, looked up at me. “I did. I moved it away.” She sobbed, her mascara smudged, her eyes on me pleading and so helpless that it broke my heart.

No, no-no-no-no-no.

“You had it in your hand when I came in,” Alysha said angrily, her own face wet with tears.

“No, I didn’t!” Victoria fought back.

“Yes, you did! You pushed it away as soon as I came in!”

“You liar! You probably were here before me, and you did this to him⁠—”

“You are a bitch! You knew he was talking to Derek⁠—”

“You stupid cow⁠—”

“Liar—”

“You killed him!”

“You killed him and want to make it look like I did it⁠—”

“Shut! Up!” I barked. “Both of you! Shut it!”

The two went quiet, heads low, chins on their chests. Victoria kept wiping her hands on her jeans. Alysha wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand.

I had to act fast.

The trouble was, if it was Alysha’s doing—an accident, I’m sure, whatever had gone wrong—I couldn’t have my child go to jail. Victoria? The same. No matter the cleanup, evidence would be everywhere. So first things first, I needed to get the girls out of here, then think how to deal with this.

“Both of you, up!” I ordered them. “Go to the kitchen, wash your hands. Thoroughly. With soap. Take the towels and wipe off your clothes. Quickly. We don’t have much time. I hear you arguing again, I am going to take both of you to jail right now. Move!” I yelled.

Both of them sprang up and ran back to the kitchen.

I went around the bar counter, into the bartenders’ area, picked up rags and a trash bag, then a flashlight from a drawer. I killed the lights over the bar. It may have been too late to do that, but if someone looked in now, at least they couldn’t see Dougie’s body from the outside.

I went around the bar counter again, put the flashlight between my teeth, holding it so it shined onto the floor, and, with a rag, picked up the hammer. My fingerprints were on it. Other workers’ too. Now, Alysha’s and Victoria’s. I wiped the handle clean, then dropped the rag and the hammer into the trash bag and walked into the back kitchen.

“Who had the extra key to the bar?” I asked the girls. They stood quietly, heads down, exchanging glances from under their brows. “There’s no time for secrets. I asked. Who? Had? The key?”

Alysha raised her eyes. “The back door was open when I came in. After her.” She pointed to Victoria.

“It was open, Mrs. Boots,” Victoria blurted. “I swear. The back door was open. I walked in, and he was already like that.” She pointed at the bar area, and her face contorted into a whiny expression as if she was about to burst into tears again.

“You drove?”

They nodded right away.

“Separately?”