“Derrick, I’ve told you.” Christopher’s voice cuts through the silence like a knife.

 

But Derrick’s not paying attention to Christopher. He’s staring at me. “Right, right. You didn’t kill her. Okay.”

 

“Your sister?” I look at Christopher, desperate to make sense of this. Wishing he’d step in somehow and make it all go away.

 

Derrick laughs. “Yeah. I’m the prodigal brother-in-law. Or, seeing as how he’s the guy who killed her, maybe he’s the prodigal one. Not sure. It’s been a long time since I read the story.” He’s swaying on his feet, I notice. Already a little tipsy and it’s not even noon.

 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” I feel like a jackass for saying it, but it’s the only thing I can come up with. This situation isn’t exactly indicative of my everyday life.

 

He seems to appreciate the thought, though. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.” He turns his head toward Christopher. “A nice girl like this, a sweet girl. What the hell are you doing with her? Trying to ruin her life, too?”

 

“Derrick.” Christopher’s hands are in fists, hanging down by his sides. He’s beyond furious. I get the impression he’s only holding back for my sake. Or maybe he feels bad for this poor, drunk man.

 

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” Derrick turns back to me. “Isn’t it?”

 

“Isn’t what? He’s not ruining my life.”

 

“Oh, really? Do you know how long it took for word to get around that Christopher Barton’s bike was sitting out in front of your house? How do you think I found him here in the first place?”

 

I’m not sure what to say now. My eyes find Christopher’s. He looks like a man who’s being proven right, but isn’t happy about it. Hadn’t he predicted this just minutes ago?

 

“People are talking?”

 

“You’re damn right they are. The Wicked Angels aren’t exactly loved around here. And they’re the only people in the area who ride motorcycles. A few people saw him riding through town last night. One of them saw him pull in here and run up the steps. Come on, guys.” He looks from me to Christopher, then back to me again.

 

I square my shoulders. “I don’t give a shit what people say.”

 

Derrick nods his head. “Very noble. Very brave.”

 

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm. If that’s all you’ve come to say, you can leave now.”

 

“So you don’t care about your reputation. Fine.” He’s completely ignored me, continuing with his diatribe. “What about your life? What’s that mean to you?”

 

“Derrick, stop this.” Christopher moves a step closer to him.

 

“Do you know how she died? You never did answer me.”

 

“Yes. I know how your sister died. I read all about it. It was very sad.”

 

“Mhm. A gunshot wound, right to the chest. Point-blank range. Cold. Deliberate. Whoever killed her had to be looking her right in the eye. And then they left her there in the woods. Eyes open, looking up at the sky. I wonder how long she lived, if she had a moment or two when she knew she was dying. But at least she got a chance to look at the clouds one more time. We used to spread picnic blankets on the ground and spend hours on our backs, looking at the clouds. You know, when we were kids.”

 

I nod my head, struggling not to cry for this broken man. He’s so tormented.

 

“Either way, she died. And her body was left right there on the ground, for anything to get at her. At least they found her before the animals started eating her.” His voice breaks a little. “She might as well have been a piece of garbage, or a toy a kid got tired of and threw away. My sister. My fucking sister.” His voice breaks.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. He is.” Derrick jerks a thumb in Christopher’s direction.

 

“Derrick, come on. Let’s at least go inside. We can talk about this.”

 

“I’m fine out here. Don’t start thinking about this nice girl’s reputation now. You’ve already fucked her life up enough, man. It’s too late.” He looks at me again. “Did he tell you they matched the bullet they found in my sister’s body?”

 

“What?” I’d only read they’d found no weapon. I glance at Christopher.

 

“Oh, yeah. They didn’t find the actual gun, but they know the sort of weapon it came from. A Glock 19. Guess who carries a Glock 19? Or at least he used to, before he killed my sister with it.”

 

I look at Christopher again, my eyes searching his. This can’t be true. The look on his face tells me it is.

 

“Did I forget to tell you the best part?”

 

“Best part?”

 

“Okay, bad choice of words, maybe. My sister didn’t die in just any woods. She died in the woods behind Christopher’s house.”

 

All the air leaves my lungs in one big whooshing noise, as though I’ve been punched in the stomach. All I can do is stare at Christopher. The last bit of the story has finally been revealed, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s been taken apart by this sad, drunk man on my lawn.

 

“No. You didn’t know that, did you? I’m not surprised.” He turns to Christopher. “I hope you haven’t done too much damage to this poor girl already. I’m sure she doesn’t deserve it. Just like Michelle didn’t.”

 

“Derrick, you need to leave. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Christopher places his hand on Derrick’s arm, only to have the arm yanked away as though his touch burns.

 

“Don’t ever touch me again. Not if you wanna live another day.” The tension could be cut with a knife. They stand there, staring at each other.

 

“Is this true, Christopher? Is it all true?”

 

He breaks the staring contest he’s having with Derrick, looking over at me. He won’t say a word.

 

“Please. Christopher. Please, I know it’s not true. Or if what he’s saying is true there’s a good explanation. Why don’t you just tell him the whole story? I believe in you.”

 

“Oh, this has to be a joke!” Derrick laughs at me. “You’re worse than I thought. Like one of those women who writes to convicts because you feel sorry for them. Will you have a jailhouse wedding with him, too? Once he’s thrown inside a cell for everything he’s done?”

 

I ignore him. “Christopher, all you have to do is tell the truth. I don’t see why you won’t explain all of this.”

 

“I shouldn’t have to.” Stubborn, pigheaded brat.

 

“Not for me. For yourself. For him.” I nod my head in Derrick’s direction. “Give him a little peace, at least.”

 

“I shouldn’t have to do that either. I’ve told him I had nothing to do with it, same as I told you. That’s not good enough for him. I’m starting to wonder if it’s not good enough for you either.”

 

“Don’t say that. Stop assuming I think the worst of you.”

 

“Oh, forget this shit.” Derrick throws his hands into the air. “I didn’t come here to watch some bullshit domestic drama.” He turns toward his bike, climbing on. Before he pulls away, he looks at me once more.

 

“What did you come here for, then, man? To make things even worse?” Christopher follows Derrick to the bike, trying to confront him.

 

“Christopher, don’t. Please. Let him go.” I’m desperate for him to leave now. I’ve heard enough.

 

“I hope you get your head screwed on straight. Before it’s too late.” Derrick pulls away, revving his engine before speeding out of sight.

 

It’s just Christopher and me again. The silence between us is deafening. I’m at a loss, torn between embarrassment for him and confusion.

 

“Christopher.” I walk toward him, starting down the short flight of stairs leading to the lawn.

 

“Don’t. Just don’t.” He stalks away toward his bike without another word. I can only watch helplessly as he backs out of the driveway, then pulls down the street.

 

Now I’m alone. Again. I look around, wondering how many pairs of eyes are watching from behind closed doors and pulled curtains. They sure got an eyeful out here, didn’t they?

 

I also remember Lucas. For a minute there, I’d forgotten all about him. I guess I can thank Derrick for that much. I wonder if he’s here somewhere. Am I becoming completely paranoid?

 

No matter what the answer, I turn to head back into the house. Only after the door is locked behind me do I give myself the luxury of trying to think things over.

 

It’s useless, however. I can’t make sense of the jumbled mess in my head. All I know is I’m terrified—only now it’s not Lucas I’m afraid of.

 

It’s the idea of losing Christopher forever.