The Silence of Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

mutter.
    “Lucky I didn’t get the idiotic clover tattooed on my forehead, I guess.” He lowers his sleeve. “She got one on her ankle. I have a feeling she’s regretting it too. It was a dumb impulse. We were at her cousin’s house, and he does tattoos on the side. One minute we’re looking at patterns. The next we’ve got these clovers drilled into our skin forever. One second of stupid, a lifetime of tattoo.”
    My throat burns, like it’s being tattooed. Because I’m thinking that life is like that. In one single moment, things can change forever—like Rita’s hand smacking Jeremy’s cheek and mine not lifting to stop hers. Like the bat picked up and swung, and Coach Johnson’s life leaving his body forever.
    I need to get out of here. “Listen, Chase. Thanks for the ride and all. You can let us out now. I can walk from here.”
    “That’s okay. I’ll take you home. I know where it is. I run by there every morning. T.J., want me to drop you off first? Unless you’re going home with Hope?”
    T.J. turns to me, his bushy eyebrows raised. I shake my head. I just want to get home and be by myself. “Just let me out at the intersection.” He points to West Elm, his street.
    Chase pulls over, and T.J. climbs out, thanking our driver two more times, then leaning into the back before shutting the door. “I’ll call you about tomorrow.”
    I nod. “Thanks, T.J.” Amazing how much thanksgiving is going on in this car.
    In dead silence, with me still in the backseat, Chase drives through town and turns onto my block. I should feel embarrassed by the house we’re renting. It’s pretty awful. But I guess I’m past being embarrassed. Having a brother on trial for murder will do that to you.
    “Uh-oh.” Chase takes his foot off the gas.
    “What?” I look up to see a blue van with
WTSN
on the side. It’s parked in front of my house.

6
    I don’t say anything , but I’m grateful when Chase drives past my house. I slump down in the backseat as he passes the minicrowd hanging out on our front lawn. “Stay down,” he commands.
    After they arrested Jer, it was like this for a week or two, but they’ve mostly left Rita and me alone since then. “If you let me off at the next block, I can circle back and go in through the kitchen.”
    Chase stops where I tell him to, and I get out. “Thanks, Chase,” I say through the window. Only I mean it this time. Maybe he’s not Jeremy’s and my enemy just because his dad is. I suppose I’m the last person who ought to judge a kid by his parent.
    He nods and drives off. I watch his car until it turns the corner—I’m not sure why I do that. Then I hightail it through Old Man Galloway’s yard and backtrack to my house.
    I guess I haven’t walked through our backyard in awhile—that, or Jack Beanstalk sprinkled seeds out here last night. Some of the weeds are almost as tall as I am. I pick up the beer cans, empty potato chip bags, and candy wrappers on my way through, then dump everything into the smelly trash bin by the back door.
    The second I step inside, I’m smothered by a blanket of humidity. The after-rain freshness hasn’t touched this house, where a musty onion smell hangs in the air. It takes a few seconds for my nostril cells to die so that I can breathe again.
    Heavy metal blares from the bedroom radio, and canned laughter cackles from the TV in the living room, where lights and shadows battle.
    I make it as far as the hallway when Rita steps out of her bedroom. She’s wearing a denim skirt that’s too tight and too short, but I’d never say so to her face. Her red checkered shirt is unbuttoned for maximum display. There’s never been the slightest question of where I got my own cleavage. Other than that, we don’t look a thing alike. We’re about the same height, five six, but I don’t think Rita has ever been thin like me. Her eyes are big and brown. Her hair is bleached blond now, frizzy and overpermed, but she’s a natural brunette.