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From a distance away, I heard my voice say, “all right.”
I pointed into the kitchen and Vick got up with a skeptical look at me. I rose quickly to follow him. Each step was a heartbeat in my ears, and all I could hear was the rushing of blood, drowning out any other sounds.
My frozen hands grabbed at one of the empty coffee pots as we passed through the doors to the kitchen.
It was heavy
Maybe
If I stood on my tiptoes
Maybe it would be enough to knock him out
Did anyone know he had come here?
What would I do with him afterwards?
I gripped the coffee pot tighter in my hand, eyeing the distance, and then I heard my brother’s voice.
“Sister.”
I stifled a gasp to see my brother’s big body walking toward us, his shoulders filling the door frame.
Vick grunted. It was clear that he hadn’t expected Torin to actually be in the kitchens, but I felt a relief so intense my knees almost gave way.
“She says you’ve been here since 6:30,” Vick accused in a disgruntled voice.
I nodded hastily at Torin behind the parole officer’s back, and he said, “Yes.”
Vick grunted again. “Where’s the proof you’ve been here?”
“Look at all these baked goods,” I interjected, displaying the rows of croissants and muffins and quiches ready to go in the oven. Torin and I had made them last night, but Vick didn’t know that.
The parole officer stared hard at Torin. I tried not to scream as I took in my brother’s jeans and flannel shirt.
How had he killed that other man? It would be just like my dumbass brother to come here with bloody fingers. But he just leaned against the counter and waited, watching Vick. I felt the tension rise up and threaten to choke me.
“Have you seen Dave Kowalczyk today?” Vick asked accusingly.
I felt like my lungs were bursting with how tightly I held my breath in, and I couldn’t help shaking my head.
Say something, Torin!
“No,” Torin said.
Suddenly I was startled to hear a knock on the kitchen window. It was old Mr. Martin who had seen Torin crack Jerald’s skull earlier that week.
Fuck!
Vick moved to open up the window.
“I’ve been knocking for ages,” Mr. Martin complained. “I need my croissant and a cup of coffee or my whole day’s gone to shit.”
“How long have you been knocking?” Vick asked.
“It seems like hours,” Mr. Martin complained.
“If you were at the window, did you see this man in here?” Vick asked swiftly, turning to point at Torin.
