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Izzy

We jump from our chairs, the scream frightening us all. It’s so powerful that I wouldn’t be surprised if Grace Olsen heard it at her house. And it’s not Brody or Becca. This scream undoubtedly came from an adult female with a strong voice.

I race to the kitchen window with Julia right behind me. Taylor squeezes in beside me, her bomb drop momentarily forgotten.

Julia doesn’t know the whole story yet, but on our walk back from Grace’s place, Taylor told me everything. Lucas is the father, and thank God I was wrong about him. It wasn’t rape; there was no sexual assault of any kind.

She’s in love with him, but completely freaked out by the pregnancy.

She hasn’t even told him yet, she’s so afraid.

Apparently she and Lucas have always been close, and he carried a torch for Taylor for years, but she hadn’t reciprocated his feelings.

Lucas had always been stuck in the dreaded “friend” category until a couple of months ago, when they went on a college tour and spent the whole weekend together.

In addition to touring schools, Taylor shared her poetry and Lucas put it to music.

A deeper bond formed, and Taylor found herself falling for him.

They spent a night together, and now they have a big problem.

It explains a lot about the odd dynamics I’ve observed.

Now I know why he lied about kissing Fiona.

He loves Taylor, and doesn’t understand why she’s become distant.

But that’s for sorting out later. There’s an even more pressing issue, namely whatever the disturbance is in David’s yard.

The scene completely puzzles me. Erika has both hands on a piece of fabric, the other end lodged firmly inside Nutmeg’s mouth.

They’re playing tug, which is a fine game between a human and a dog.

But why the shriek? It’s just a piece of clothing, a shirt or something of that sort, nothing to get crazy about.

But Erika looks crazed. It’s as if she’s in a fight to the death, while Nutmeg couldn’t be happier.

“Drop it! Drop it!” Erika yells, but Nutmeg won’t release her prize.

She digs her hind heels into the soft earth, giving one firm yank after another.

Erika tugs in the opposite direction, pulling on what I now think is a tank top with spaghetti straps.

She pulls so hard that her sun hat dislodges from her head, freeing a cascade of red hair that falls past her shoulders.

At this point I can see Erika clenching her teeth.

Julia’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh my god, is that…?”

Instead of finishing the thought, she races out the back door toward Erika and Nutmeg. Taylor and I follow.

By the time we arrive, the tug-of-war is over.

The loser, Nutmeg, has found a new distraction and is contentedly chomping on a tennis ball.

At the same time, Julia examines the article of clothing Erika extracted from the dog’s mouth.

I sidle up close. Erika smooths out the fabric of a soiled off-white tank top.

Even though it’s dirty and ripped in places, I can make out a misshapen rust-colored stain on the shirt that definitely isn’t mud.

“That’s Fiona’s,” Julia stammers. Erika is basically electric. I feel vibrations radiating off her in waves.

“Nutmeg went for the ball under David’s porch, and she came out holding this,” Erika explains breathlessly. “At first I didn’t think anything of it, but then I saw it was covered in blood, and I screamed.”

Blood. That’s my cue to get the kids out of the way. I shuffle them into the house just as David is coming outside. He approaches Julia and Erika, so perplexed that he doesn’t acknowledge me or his children as we slip inside.

I set them up in front of the TV near a window (no shortage there) so I can keep an eye on them. I venture back out to find David has encroached on Erika, his hand extended. Obviously, he wants the tank top.

Erika is absolutely panicked. She backs away, clutching the soiled garment to her chest.

“It was under your porch,” Julia tells him. “It’s Fiona’s. I remember her wearing it the night you two fought outside. And now it’s covered in blood.”

“That makes no sense,” says David.

Julia stares him down. “It makes perfect sense if you did something to her and tried to hide the evidence.”

“Maybe you wanted to keep it,” suggests Erika with disgust. “Some sick token of what you did.”

“What I did?” David scoffs. “Are you out of your mind?”

Hmmm… maybe not. I’ve seen enough murder shows to know that killers often keep mementos of their crimes.

Julia has her phone out, and I think I know who she’s calling.

“You’re going to have to explain all this to Detective Baker,” Julia informs him as she places her call. “And we need some space from you. Whatever excuses you have, you can give them to the police.”

Great. So I’m stuck in Murder Man’s house guarding his kids? This job does NOT pay enough.

Thankfully Julia comes to my rescue. “Izzy, why don’t you bring Becca and Brody over to my house. We’ll all wait this out together.”