Chapter Twenty
Sarah carried the trash into the back room. Out of sight, she checked her phone again. Where was Emily? For a moment, Sarah listened to the purr of the repaired refrigerator. Its hushed whisper comforted her because it made her think of RahRah when he was in one of his deep sleep cycles. She couldn’t believe how attached she had become to that cat or how upset she was at the possibility of RahRah living with Jane. Jane might not harm or starve RahRah, but she didn’t impress Sarah as someone who could share love with a human, let alone an animal.
It made her wonder what kind of relationship Bill and Jane had really had. She wasn’t being catty, Sarah convinced herself, as she dropped the box with the bag of garbage and unlatched the Civic Center’s rear door. Unless Bill’s tastes had changed greatly after their divorce, Jane was the antithesis of the willowy long-haired brunettes Bill typically fell for.
Sarah stepped onto the loading dock. She twisted backward to drag Jacob’s box and the bags over the threshold. It wasn’t only that Jane was different from Bill’s normal type, Sarah thought as she inched backward. Jane was such a mean, manipulative, and unpleasant person, Sarah couldn’t imagine what Bill saw in her.
“Aah!” Sarah screamed as she tripped. Arms flailing, she slammed onto the ground, right on top of one of the garbage bags, which split, its contents spewing. Looking up, she realized the culprit behind her fall was her own sister’s leg.
“Emily?”
Emily sat spread-eagle on the ground, shaking. Tomato sauce and other trash mixed with tears on Emily’s face.
“What are you doing, Emily? I could have broken my neck!”
Her twin didn’t move.
“Em?” Sarah put her hands down for balance as she inched toward Emily. Her hand touched something damp underneath her. Instinctively, she wiped it on her jeans and reached out toward her sister.
“Stay away from me!” Emily backed farther away from Sarah, alternating a high-pitched mixture of sobs and the word “No!”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Sarah craned her neck from her shrieking sister to look over her shoulder. Eyes bulging, she twisted around and rose on her knees, trying to comprehend what she saw. Not three feet away, Richard lay on his side. A pool of blood surrounded him, a knife protruded from his back.
For a moment, Sarah’s brain detached itself from its present reality as she wondered if the tip of the knife might have simply pierced one of his many tattoos, resulting in red ink running to the ground. But that wasn’t the case. This was far worse.
Sarah raised her hand to her forehead and gagged. The sticky wetness she’d wiped on her jeans hadn’t come out of the broken trash bag. She’d put her hand into the puddle of Richard’s blood. It took everything she had to not be sick. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to turn away from Richard and focus on Emily. Her twin, now silent, sat hugging her knees to her body.
Between the light casting shadows on the loading dock and how tightly Emily had her knees drawn to her chest, Sarah couldn’t discern if there was blood on Emily’s black clothing, but she saw stains she was certain weren’t rhubarb on Emily’s exposed hands. “Emily, what happened?”
Emily shook her head.
Trying to penetrate her sister’s silence was useless. Frustrated and frightened, Sarah turned back to help Richard. His mottled pallor and the amount of blood on the ground told her it was too late. She forced herself not to touch him, knowing it would only annoy the police if she disturbed anything else. As it was, she doubted Peter would be too pleased with her garbage shower over his crime scene.
Avoiding Richard, she crawled to Emily and embraced her. With a sob, Emily collapsed against Sarah.
Sarah forced herself to ask, “Did you?”
“No.” Emily held on tightly to her twin.
“Did you touch the knife?”
Emily nodded. “He wasn’t moving. I tried to help him.”
“Hush.” Keeping one arm around Emily, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She punched the icon for recent calls and hit the number she hadn’t recognized the other day.
When Peter answered, she didn’t identify herself. In a monotone, she said, “There’s been a murder on the loading dock of the Civic Center. I think you’d better come over here.” She hung up and speed-dialed Harlan. He probably wouldn’t be very happy to hear Emily had been a Good Samaritan again.