Chapter Seventy-Six

WE HUDDLE IN THE STREET, TOES numb and hearts unsure. The EMTs examine us while we answer the police officer’s questions. Mrs. Stieg brings us blankets and brews coffee for Mom, the officers, and emergency responders.

An oxygen mask is placed over Campbell’s face, and my dress is cut open over my ribs, showing a bloody track where the bullet grazed my side. I guess the blood was mine.

At some point, Bill DiMarco arrives, and begins to say words we’ve waited for—like arrest warrant. He tells us the violation of the order, the endangerment of children, the gun being fired, and the injuries we sustained will all make jail unavoidable.

But I step away from him and get as close to the remains of the house as the fire chief allows.

I think about that shadow that followed us. How close it came to claiming us. How easily we could have been consumed by whatever evil thing it was.

A legacy of anger. An inheritance of fear.

But this time, the house won’t erase his violence.

Its ashes are as dark as a crow’s wings.