“Everybody down!”
Deputy Wohnt led the charge but two plainclothes officers were directly on his heels. I was still partially in the closet and obliged immediately with the command. Brad also dropped to the ground and then scurried past me so he was fully in the closet.
Kenya did not respond. She studied the three men, guns drawn, their breath coming in adrenaline bursts, exactly like she’d studied me the first time we’d met at the side of the stage on debate day. She was a hawk, recording every detail before deciding whether they were worth her attention. Her gun had been hanging at her side but she drew it slowly up, swiveling the end toward her face. I lunged forward to grab it, but Wohnt was quicker. He fired a single shot at her right shoulder and she dropped her weapon and crumpled.
One of the officers moved swiftly to retrieve the pistol and the other called for an ambulance on his shoulder unit.
“Are you okay?”
Wohnt had crossed the room in three strides. He made a move to reach toward me but stopped abruptly, turning back to focus on Kenya. He flipped her over. Her eyes were open and she was shivering. There wasn’t much blood, even when he ripped her shirt open to get a clear look at the wound. “I need a blanket and a clean towel.”
I followed his orders as best I could. My legs were shaky but they carried me into Brad’s bedroom and then bathroom. I was distantly relieved to see the latest issue of Juggz and Huggz on the sink next to his toilet. I hurried back and handed Wohnt the cloth. He staunched Kenya’s wound and covered her with the blanket. When the paramedics arrived moments later, some color had returned to her cheeks.
They hauled her out, and Wohnt and the remaining officer stayed behind. Wohnt turned to me, fire blazing in his eyes. He shoved me onto the couch and stood over me. “This the sting?”
At first I couldn’t meet his gaze, adrenaline and shock swirling dangerously fast in my stomach. Then I remembered that discomfort and indignation were close cousins and I shot to my feet, jabbing him in the chest with my finger. “I asked for your help but you weren’t interested. Said my gerbil turd theory was stupid. Said that wasn’t enough to go on.” I walked angrily toward the closet, knocking Wohnt out of the way. I leaned forward and snaked my arm down the back of still-cowering Brad’s shirt. A loud ripping sound followed by a sad squeal from Brad, and I had the tape recorder in hand. “Here. Why don’t you see if that’s enough to go on.”
Wohnt’s eyes were glittering dangerously. “What will I hear if I listen to this?”
“Kenya confessing to killing Webber. And her mother.”
The other officer came up behind Gary and clapped him on the shoulder. “You were right about her.”
They exchanged a look, and I couldn’t read either damn one of their faces. Hysteria and rage vied for position in my cluttered head. “Right about what? Right that you should listen to me more? Right that I was right and you were wrong?”
My voice went a little screechy as the reality of what had just happened closed over me. “Right that all the men in my life are either too good for me, dead, or fiberglass statues?”
“I’m not too good for you!” Brad said from the closet.
“Shut up.” I shoved my hands on my hips. “Right that you can get me to confess to Watergate with that cop stare of yours, and that I’m an eyelash shy of a nervous breakdown and that I would have been better off moving to Siberia than Battle Lake and that I’m going to die a lonely old cat lady?”
Gary was vibrating ever so slightly, and I thought he was going to yell at me before I realized he was laughing.
His back-up shook his head in wonder. “Yup, absolutely right.”