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Ruth snorted. “Well, thank fuck for women’s lib so we don’t have to sit around cross-stitching.” She perked up, sitting up straight. “That reminds me. I went shopping.” She got to her feet and picked up a grocery bag. All I could hear was clinking as soon as she lifted it. As she started to unpack it, I could see why.
First one wine bottle, then another, then a big bottle of Tito’s vodka, the kind that was so big it had a handle.
“Jesus, Ruth, do we need to have an intervention?”
She waved a hand. “I invited the guys over. A house-warming party. I told them I’d provide the booze if they brought food. I didn’t want to deal with snacks.”
I shot to my feet. “Holy shit, you invited Reece? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now,” she grinned. “Plus, I’m enjoying this reaction.”
“Witch.” I ran my hands through my hair and looked down at myself. It was better than when I lived on the ranch and was perpetually covered in mud, but still. “When are they coming over?”
The doorbell rang. I felt my eyes widen. “I’m going to murder you,” I hissed at Ruth.
I’d only seen Reece once since everything happened last week. They hadn’t let him ride in the ambulance with me since he wasn’t family, but he’d visited in the hospital where they’d taken me for observation. I’d been with Ruth pretty much solidly since then, but every time I had seen him he’d immediately grabbed my hand and held it the whole time. I wasn’t sure what to make of it and was trying not to make too much of anything. He was just concerned for me. Anybody would be, considering I’d all but knocked elbows with an F3 tornado.
Ruth answered the door while I slipped a tinged lip gloss out of my pocket and ran it over my lips.
Which was when I heard a voice that was decidedly not Reece or Jeremiah.
“Where is she? Penelope? Penelope, I know you’re in there. Get out here right now before I call the cops!”
My blood went cold in my veins at Buchanan’s demanding, entitled voice shouting for me.
Apparently Ruth didn’t like it either. “Hey, fuckface, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you need to step back off my doorstep—
“I’m not leaving till you show your face, Penelope. I know you killed him and I can prove it—”
I wondered if Buchanan had identified Jeff’s body. I’d certainly been reading local coverage of the tornado. When I came across the story of a Tesla that had been found over two miles away, and about the mangled dead body inside, I’d curiously felt… very little other than powerful relief.
I came out from around the corner, hands on my hips. “Oh, so now you can prove that I have the power to call a tornado down from the sky? Please, Bruce, tell me how I managed to do that one.”
Ruth just looked over her shoulder at me, blocking Buchanan from me with her body.
“You killed him first.” He pushed easily past Ruth since he was twice her size and came towards me, finger pointed in my face. “Then parked the car in the path of the twister so it picked him up.”
I just stood there, for once not cowed by the big oaf. “Wow. Do you even hear yourself? Did the cops buy that ridiculous theory? Is that why they’re right behind you?” I pointed to the empty hallway.
“I’m certainly calling them,” Ruth said, phone at her ear. “Yes, I’d like to report an intruder.”
Buchanan grabbed me by my shoulders. “He was coming out here to get you and then he ends up dead? I know you killed him, you little slut. And I’ll prove it.”
“How did he even find me?” I asked. It was the one part of the puzzle that never fit. “Did you help him?”
“It’s called facial recognition software, you dumb bitch. It can scrape public social media feeds and he saw you. He saw you.” He shook me so hard my head rattled. “Out dancing with another man and breaking your marital vows.”
“Hey, let go of her, you bastard!” Ruth cried. “Now he’s assaulting my roommate,” she said into the phone, turning it around and taking video.
Buchanan was getting more and more pissed, but he was also an attorney. He let go of me and turned towards Ruth. “I’m a private citizen. You have no right to take video of me. Turn that off. This business is between me and my best friend’s wife.”
“Oh,” Ruth said. “Your best friend who used to beat his wife regularly? Is that the best friend you’re defending right now?”
Buchanan reached for the phone but Ruth danced back away from him. “I’m livestreaming buddy,” she said. “So this is already going straight to the cloud. But please, assault me as well. That’ll do great things for your case, friend of a man who liked to assault women.”
