Page 114 of Confessions

Neighbors filtered out of their houses and the whole scene played out in slow motion.

Ben yanked out the keys and jumped out of the pickup before the truck had come to a complete stop. Carlie scrambled out behind him. “What’s going on here?” Ben demanded of the first policeman.

“Get back, boy!”

Ben ignored him. “My brother lives here!” he said when the officer tried to restrain him.

“Who’s your brother?”

“Kevin Powell. He—” His voice broke when he stared into the officer’s grim face and Carlie’s lungs seemed to give out. She couldn’t breathe. Her blood pounded in her ears.

“Your brother’s dead, son,” the officer said, sadness etched on his features. “Your sister found him. They took him over to County General, but it was too late.”

“Oh, God,” Carlie whispered, her knees threatening to buckle. This was all a horrid dream. That was it...a dream. She watched as if from a distance.

“No, you’re wrong!” Ben threw off the policeman’s arm. “Kevin—he’s here. He lives here!”

“Son, I’m telling you—”

“You’re a liar!” Ben screamed.

Carlie thought she might be sick. She tried to reach for Ben, but he twisted away from her.

“Kevin’s okay, Carlie! He’s okay!” Ben yelled. “He’s okay!”

“I’m sorry, kid. Maybe I should get you a ride—”

“Like hell. Kevin’s okay! He’s okay!” Ben repeated. His features were etched in fury and disbelief, his body tense and spoiling for a fight as rain sheeted from the sky. “I don’t know why you’re lying to me!”

“Look, son, if you don’t believe me—”

“What’s going on here?” a senior officer intervened and Carlie, willing her knees not to give out, stood next to Ben.

“There’s been some kind of mistake,” she said, her voice nearly failing her. Kevin couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t. “This is Ben Powell, Kevin’s brother, and—”

“Then you’ve got your work cut out for you,” the officer cut in, staring at Ben. “Your sister’s not dealing with this very well and your father has been taken to the hospital with chest pains. I know this is difficult, but you’ve got to face it.”

Carlie’s legs turned to water. Deputy Zalinski caught her before she slid onto the muddy ground.

“You’re wrong!” Ben said, backing away from the policemen. Rain flattened his hair and ran from the tip of his nose and his chin. “You’re wrong! Kevin’s okay! He has to be!”

“Get a grip, Powell,” the officer said evenly. “We can take you to the hospital—”

“No way!”

“Ben,” Carlie said, walking up to him and touching his arm. Her lips were trembling and tears filled her eyes. “Come on—”

“Let go of me,” he snarled, yanking his arm away, his eyes filled with dark, unspoken accusations. Carlie’s heart turned to stone when she saw the sudden hatred in the angry line of his mouth.

“We’re investigating this as a possible suicide,” the officer said. “But we’re not certain of anything. Not yet. It looks like alcohol could’ve been involved and—”

“No! Man, this is crazy—” Ben cried, but the anger left his features, replaced by cold, certain fear. “No!” he screamed, his fists clenched as he turned his head to the sky. “No! No! No!”

Tears washed down Carlie’s cheeks. She r

eached for Ben again, but he backed away, nearly stumbling on the curb before he turned around and ran through the night, abandoning her and racing under the streetlamps, faster and faster through the rain. She took a step forward to chase him, but Zalinski restrained her.

“Give him time to deal with this.”