Kit shot up from the table and paced to the pantry at the other end of the kitchen. She clamped her fingers over her mouth then expelled a breath and returned to the table.
Jill peeked up at her and whispered, “I’m sorry, Kit. I don’t mean to—”
“No. I know it’s a possibility.” Kit sank into the chair again, her thumb worrying her wedding ring. Jill touched her arm.
“Take a deep breath, Kit. Calm down and think.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Kit slapped the table and stared at the bird feeder hanging outside the window.
Deep rumbling bass from an automobile’s speakers vibrated the chairs for a few seconds before coming to an abrupt end. Soon Bryce came through the door and dropped his backpack on the floor.
“Hey, Aunt Jill. What’s up?” He opened the pantry, grabbed a bag of tortilla chips, and dug out a handful. His crunching kept time with Harper’s voice drifting in from the living room as she sang along with the movie. “Did you hear someone shot up Dad’s old radio station?”
Kit exchanged a nervous glance with Jill and pressed her lips together. Bryce’s chewing slowed. His eyes narrowed, shifting between the two women.
“Wait. Is that what you meant when you said something’s come up?” He slid into a chair facing Kit. She looked down at her clenched hands.
“Bryce, I think your dad had something to do with that shooting.”
“What?” Bryce gaped. He looked at Jill then leaned toward his mom. “You think Dad shot up the radio station?”
“I hope not, but—”
Bryce fell back against his chair, shaking his head. “No way. That’s crazy. Why would you even think that?” He popped another chip into his mouth.
The doorbell rang and Kit’s heart skittered.
Jeff?
No. Why would he ring the doorbell of his own house? She hurried to the front door. Through the frosted window, two figures stood silhouetted in the porch light. The familiar shape of a cowboy hat told her one was a deputy. She yanked the door open.
“Did you find him?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The officer wasn’t the same one who’d questioned her at the radio station, but his tone sent a shiver through her. Turning to the man behind him, he said, “This is Pastor Stan Graham. Mind if we come in and talk?” The minister stepped forward and shook her hand. His soft palm warmed her cold fingers.
Kit stood aside and motioned them in. Harper’s eyes widened when she saw the uniformed officer.
“Harper, would you mind going up to Maddie’s room?” Kit said. “Tell her I sent you up there and I’d like both of you to stay there for a few minutes. I’ll let you know when it’s okay to come out.” She paused the movie. Harper jumped to her feet and scurried up the stairs. A moment later, Maddie stuck her head around the corner of her doorway.
“Mom? I thought I was supposed to do my homework.”
“I know, but I need you to keep Harper up there for now.”
“She said there’s a police—”
“Yes, I’ll explain later. For now, keep her up there until I say you can come out.” Kit waited until the door clicked shut then led both men into the breakfast nook. Bryce stood in the doorway, uncertainty clouding his expression.
“Deputy, Reverend Graham, this is my son, Bryce. And this is my sister, Jill Daniels.”
While the minister shook hands with Bryce and Jill, the deputy raised an eyebrow at Kit and gave an almost imperceptible nod toward Bryce.
“It’s alright. We were just talking about it.” Kit gestured toward the chairs. “So, you’ve found Jeff?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The deputy remained standing but removed his hat, revealing a slight crease on his forehead below a military-style haircut. Rocking back on his heels, he gazed at Bryce, then Jill, and finally at Kit.
“We found his truck at the cabin you called in.” Tracing the hat’s brim with his thumb and forefinger, he cleared his throat and spoke with hesitation. “I’m sorry to say he was deceased when we found him. It appears to be self-inflicted.”
“Jeff?” Kit collapsed into the nearest chair. Jill rushed to her side. The minister moved toward Bryce who was swaying on his feet.
“You’d better take a seat, son.” The minister guided Bryce down onto the chair and sat beside him.
“Are you sure it’s Jeff?” Kit asked, despite the dryness in her mouth.
“Yes, ma’am. His identification was in his wallet, and the truck was registered to him.”
Kit swallowed hard. “Can I see him?”
The deputy glanced at Rev. Graham. “I’ll have to check on that.”
“How did he die?”
“A weapon was found in the cab. There was no note or anything in the truck indicating he’d planned this. Did he leave anything here at home? Any kind of note or letter, maybe a journal?”
Kit swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “I—I haven’t seen anything.”
“What about social media? Facebook or Twitter?”
“Dad’s not on Facebook. Hang on.” Bryce pulled out his phone, blinking rapidly, his brows jammed together. For a moment, his thumbs tapped away. “Nothing on his Twitter account.”
“We’ll get a search warrant for his computer and anything else that might be relevant. A deputy will contact you for an interview.”
Kit twisted her clenched hands. “What about the others, the people at the radio station?”
“Three victims at the station. I understand one is in serious condition but will likely survive. The other two are deceased.” The deputy stepped sideways. “We’ll do an autopsy on your husband, standard procedure because of his possible involvement in the incident at the radio station. You’ll be notified when the body is released.”
He peered out the window. “Are you planning to stay here tonight?”
Kit followed his gaze. A news truck setting up on the road in front of the house raised its antenna and aimed a spotlight at the house.
“Might be best to leave for a few days,” the minister said. “Give yourself time and space to grieve in peace. Do you have relatives or someplace you could go until things quiet down?”
“My place.” Jill’s arm encircled Kit’s shoulders. “You can stay as long as you need to. I’ll call the school and your boss and let them know y’all won’t be in tomorrow.”
Bryce turned away from the window. “Do we have to leave?”
The deputy set his hat on the counter and hooked his thumbs on his belt. “You don’t have to, but if you stay here, they’ll be camped outside your window. Someone will follow if you leave, possibly hounding you with questions. Something this big will probably warrant helicopters hovering overhead every time they do a news segment.”
Kit’s pulse pounded in her ears. They needed to leave now before every media outlet in town found them. She’d lived through that once already. Her stomach still clenched at the memory. She pulled away from Jill.
“Bryce, go upstairs and pack enough for several days. Be ready to leave in five minutes.”
“What about school?”
“Bring your backpack and anything else you might need. We’ll talk about school later. Don’t say anything to Maddie. Let me handle that.” Her chair scudded against the floor as she stood and pushed it out of the way. She brushed past the deputy then stopped. “I’m sorry. Is that all?”
The deputy straightened, picked up his hat, and nodded to the minister. “We’ll wait outside. When you’re ready to leave, we’ll keep any followers at bay.”
“You want me to get Maddie ready?” Jill asked. Kit faltered.
“She needs to hear this from me. Let me get my stuff together first.” Kit raced through her room tearing clothes from hangers, grabbing toiletries from the bathroom, throwing everything into a roller bag. Jill would have anything she might forget. She needed to get upstairs to Maddie.
Her knees gave out and she sank onto the bed, the same spot where Jeff sat just two nights ago. How to tell Maddie that her beloved daddy was dead? She couldn’t rush into this. Her gaze rose to her wedding picture on the wall above the antique chest of drawers. Never in her wildest imagination.
Jeff, how could you do this to us?
She rose, yanked the picture off the wall, and turned it face down on the bureau before heading upstairs.