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I
pushed the car door open and the rush of cool fresh air, combined with suddenly
standing up, caused me to stumble. As I rested against the hood of the Blazer
to regain my balance, I looked toward Cate's house. It wasn't what I had
expected. Thought she'd have a real mansion, but it was an average-looking
split-level ranch-style. A guard light over the garage lit up the front of the
house; and it was a damn good thing or I'd never have made it to the front
door. I pushed the doorbell and kept pushing it until an inside light came on.
The front door cracked open, and I felt proud of myself for waking Cate up from
a peaceful sleep. Why should she be enjoying herself on a night like this? I
sure as hell wasn't.

"Jo?
What the hell are you doing here?"

"We
have to talk."

"You're
drunk." She frowned. "Come back if you sober up."

"No!
Now!" I shouted. "Open the fuckin' door!"

"Will
you shut up before the neighbors call the police?"

"Let
'em! You know I don't give a shit about the police!"

The
front door closed, and I banged on it with my fist.

"Open
this door, goddamn it!"

The
door finally opened, and I pushed against it before she could change her mind.
I pushed harder than I needed to, and the door flew open, sending me sprawling
onto the entryway floor. She moved my legs out of the way and closed the door.
Leaving me there, she went down a hallway into another room. I can't be certain
how long I lay there before she returned, and I felt her hand on my arm.

"Get
up, Joanna."

"I
can't."

"If
you don't get up, I'll let you lie there the rest of the night."

I
rolled over and tried to look at her but couldn't get my eyes to focus
properly. I sat up slowly and tried to take a deep breath. More air didn't
help, and I knew my body was swaying.

"The
fuckin' floor is moving," I said.

"How
much have you had to drink?"

"Obviously
not enough. I'm still conscious," I answered.

She
took my arm, and eventually I was able to stand.

With
a little help from the walls and various pieces of furniture, I made my way
into the living room. Cate took my arm again, attempting to lead me to the
couch, but I jerked away from her.

"Just
leave me the fuck alone," I said, holding my arms up. "This is all
your fault anyway. You just couldn't leave me the fuck alone."

"Jo..."
she began.

"Lena's
fuckin' dead!" I said, pointing at her. "And it's your fault."

"What?"

"Listen,
damn it. Lena's been murdered. If you'd stayed out of my life, she'd be alive
right now," I accused. "But no, you just had to butt into Kyle's
business, and she paid the price! I'm alive, you're alive, Kyle's alive. But
she's lying on a slab in the fuckin' morgue. Didn't even make it to the fuckin'
hospital. Shit!"

"I'm
sorry, Jo. Sit down."

I
fell onto the couch and didn't hear her leave the room. When she returned, she
tapped my arm and handed me a cup of coffee.

"I
don't want that."

"Maybe
not, but you need it."

"What
is it? Some of that fancy French vanilla hazelnut shit." As I took the
cup, she kept her hands close to it in case I couldn't keep a grip on it.

"Do
you know what happened?"

"She
was trying to help. Someone found out. They killed her. End of Lena. End of
story."

"Did
she tell you who did it, Jo?"

"Don't
you think that if I knew that, I'd have killed the son of a bitch
already?" I was angry, frustrated at being interrogated. My eyes burned as
I tried to ward off tears.

"Who
was she trying to help?"

"Kyle."

"How..."

"The
woman didn't even know him and ended up giving her life for his stupid fuckin'
story. Shit!" I mumbled, fighting the tears that were forming in my eyes.
"She did it to help me."

Cate
sat down on the couch next to me and put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm so
sorry, Jo."

"What
the hell are you sorry about? You didn't know her. She was a nobody. A
nothing."

"She
must have been a good woman for you to have cared about her."

I
set the coffee cup carefully on a table and rubbed my face with both hands. I
could feel her hand on my shoulder.

"Don't
touch me. I don't want you to touch me. Lena's dead because of you," I
said, even though I knew it wasn't true.

"Why
don't you lie down and sleep it off," she said as she let her hand slide
from my shoulder.

"I
don't want to sleep. I don't want to dream about any of this. It's a fuckin'
nightmare."

She
stood up and I leaned back on the couch with my eyes closed.

"I
wish things had been different. I wish I could have been a different person.
Then maybe none of this would have happened," I said.

"I
don't think you could have changed, Jo," she said quietly. "You
wouldn't have been you anymore."

"Remember
how we used to be?" I asked, half to myself. "I couldn't look at you
without wanting you. I'd never met a woman as beautiful as you," I mumbled
as I lay down slowly. I felt myself drifting toward sleep and was trying to
fight it with the sound of my own voice even though it was beginning to trail
off.

"Don't
talk. Try to rest," she whispered.

I
grabbed her arm and tried unsuccessfully to blink clear vision back into my
eyes to look at her. "God, Cate, I loved you so much. I wish...you
knew."

As
my eyelids lost their battle with fatigue, I barely heard her say, "I
knew, Jo, but it wasn't enough."

She
brushed my hair back with her fingers, and the feel of her hand on my hair made
me feel safe and comfortable for the first time I could remember in fifteen
years.

WHEN
MY EYES opened again, I tried to adjust them to the darkness, not sure where I
was. My head pounded when I tried to sit up, and my tongue had Velcroed itself
to the roof of my mouth. There was an afghan draped across me, and it almost
won the battle as I tried to throw it off. My eyes strained in the dark to find
my shoes. I didn't remember removing them, but then I didn't remember much
about the previous evening after finding Lena. The only sound I could hear was
a clock ticking somewhere. From the sound of it, it must have been a very large
clock, or I had consumed more alcohol than I thought I had. I felt the pockets of
my jeans and found my car keys. When I reached the Blazer and turned on the
ignition, the clock on the dash told me it was a little before six. The sun
would be up before I got back to the ranch.

As
the Blazer came around the final curve leading to my house, I saw two sheriff's
vehicles parked on the lawn. A tow truck was backed up to Lena's car, and a
middle-aged man in overalls was hoisting the rear end of the car in the air. I
had no idea where they would take it or who would come forward to claim it, and
I wished I had asked Lena more questions about her family. As I approached the
house, a deputy I didn't recognize came onto the porch. Yellow police tape
superficially blocked the entrance to the living room, and the deputy held the
tape up as I ducked under it.

"Are
you all right, Ms. Carlisle?" he asked.

"Yeah,
great," I lied as I walked into the house.

If
anything it looked worse than I remembered. The cushions on the couch and
chairs had been slashed, and other furniture was overturned. It was hard to
tell what had been damaged by the search of the house, and how much had
resulted from the struggle that must have occurred. Lena was a strong woman,
and I knew she hadn't gone down without a helluva fight. The investigators
hadn't helped either, spreading black fingerprint powder everywhere. I wandered
into the kitchen and was glad to see that the coffee maker had escaped intact.
I leaned against the counter and waited as coffee filled the pot. A few cups
later, the deputy came into the kitchen.

"We're
about finished here, Ms. Carlisle."

"Fine,"
I said without enthusiasm.

"Are
you planning to stay out here?"

"No
place else to go. When can I clean up this mess?"

"Well,
I think we've done all we can in the house. Just don't do anything in the barn
until we can finish gathering up whatever there is to find there."

"Guess
I won't have any reason to be in the barn now," I said, remembering the
sight of Jack's body lying in his stall.

"It
looks like whoever did this was looking for something. If they didn't find it,
they might come back," he warned.

"They
didn't find anything. There wasn't anything here to find."

"Do
you have a weapon, ma'am?"

"Yeah,
and I know how to use it."

"You
might want to stay someplace else, at least for tonight."

"Thanks,
but I'll be fine."

"We'll
have a unit swing by here after dark, just in case."

"Appreciate
it."

Ten
minutes later everyone was gone, and I was alone with a monumental mess. I had
left the house and everything in it basically the same as my parents had always
had it. The only changes I had made since making it my home was converting a
downstairs guestroom into a darkroom and redoing the office to make it more
suitable for my needs. It was almost as if I had been trying to hang on to
their memories by not changing too much. Now some bastard had felt the need to
destroy those memories along with the furniture.

It
was after two in the afternoon before I stopped picking things up. The
furniture was still a mess, but at least it was all upright again, and most of
the fingerprint powder was cleaned up. Whoever had torn things up had missed
the hidden storage area in the office floor where I kept a rifle and shotgun.
Checking to make sure they were loaded, I leaned them against a wall where they
could be reached quickly if I needed them. I was preparing to tackle my office
when I heard the sound of a car. Grabbing the rifle, I went to the front door
and looked down the road until a car I recognized came into sight. I pushed the
screen door open and stepped onto the porch, leaning my rifle against the front
doorjamb.

Cate
got out of her car and saw me standing on the porch. As I watched her walk
toward me, I couldn't help but notice that she hadn't gain an ounce since the
day I first met her.

"What
are you doing here?" I asked as she came up the steps toward me.

"I
thought you could use some help. Were you expecting someone else?" she
asked, glancing at the rifle.

"Whoever
was here could come back for another look. They were probably looking for me
instead of Lena anyway."

I
picked up my rifle and opened the screen door for her. She stopped just inside
and shook her head.

"Pretty
messy," I said.

"Where
are you working right now?"

"I
thought I'd see what I can do in the office. It's pretty much trashed."

I
felt her hand on my arm. "Are you going to be all right?"

"I'll
adjust. I always have."

We
went into the office, and I began picking up papers from the floor. Cate left
the room and returned with a bucket of water and sponges. We worked without
talking for nearly an hour.

Finally
I said, "Let's take a break."

She
dried her hands on her jeans, and I went into the kitchen and poured coffee for
us. We carried our cups onto the front porch to take in some fresh air and
clear the disaster inside from our minds.

"Do
you want to talk about it, Jo?" she asked.

"No,"
I answered without looking at her.

"You
can't keep your feelings bottled up inside. Sooner or later they're going to
come out."

"You
know, Cate, I don't recall seeing a psychology degree hanging in your office
when I was there."

"I
don't understand why you won't let anyone get close enough to help you."

Shifting
my eyes toward her, I said, "Because when you let someone get too close
you eventually wind up hurting her or getting hurt yourself."

"You
want a refill?" she asked as she got up.

"Why
not," I said, draining my cup before handing it to her.

While
she was gone, I got up and stretched. I heard the sound of gravel being crushed
under car tires again and quickly turned and looked. The rifle was leaning just
inside the front door, but by the time I turned around, I saw I wasn't going to
need it as a sheriff's unit came into view. I still had the rifle in my hand
when the vehicle stopped. The door opened, and Cal Duncan stepped from the car.

"You
planning to shoot me, Jo?" He smiled.

"Not
this time, Cal."