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“Ms. Knox,” the officer began, “do you really want to press charges against him? You instigated the matter. I’m really hoping that your call was a case of mistaken identity because if not you could be in serious trouble.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Nola said trying to look apologetic. “I had no idea it was Nick and it looked like someone was breaking in, it really did. I was trying to help. And no, I don’t want to press charges.”
The two officers looked relieved. “Stay away from him,” the older officer ordered and they climbed back into their car and drove away.
Nola walked back to her truck and carefully climbed into the cab. Once inside she slowly and methodically removed her right shoe and placed it on the seat next to her. Bright red beads of blood freckled the top of the leather. This worked out even better than she hoped. Nola glanced out the window. The sun had risen and the last of the bystanders had moved on.
Nola raised her phone to her ear and began the short drive to the house where she would prepare the blood sample for Maggie.
“Jesus, Nola,” Maggie hissed when she answered. “You shouldn’t be calling me.”
“Relax.” Nola laughed. “I bet you get family members calling about cases all the time. No one is going to think twice.”
“It’s not a good idea.” Maggie’s voice was hushed and strained.
“I kept my end of the bargain,” Nola said. “I have what you need.”
“We need to talk about this.” Maggie’s voice dropped again so that Nola had to strain to hear her. “I don’t think I can do it.”
Nola turned onto her street and saw a U-Haul truck parked in front of the Kennedy place. She saw Maggie’s brother, Colin, and three other men carrying two large sculptures. As she crept closer she saw that the metal sculptures were in the shape of horses.
“Nola, are you still there?” Maggie asked. “I mean it, we need to talk about this. Nola!” Maggie insisted. “I can’t do it.”
“You don’t want to fuck with me, Maggie,” Nola snapped into the phone. “Come over tonight and I’ll give you what you need. We’re doing this.”
Nola disconnected and examined Colin’s artwork. The faces of the horses were cut and carved into regal expressions and the manes, flanks and legs were bent and folded in ways that conveyed movement. The sculptures were stunning.
Colin Kennedy was full of surprises, Nola thought, remembering the awkward teen who was overshadowed by his younger sister. She stepped from her truck and watched as the men loaded the sculptures into the U-Haul. Maybe it was time to stop by and get reacquainted.
But first she had work to do. Nola reached inside the truck, grabbed her bloody shoe and went inside.
