Page 32 of Wham Line (The Last Picks #10)

“It isn’t,” Indira said. She squeezed my hand again.

“Do you know what I wish I could have told the people around me? That I was sorry, because I knew how upsetting it was for them. It’s upsetting for all of us.

It’s scary to see someone we know and love become a different person.

It’s terrifying to see the power of an emotion that we can’t understand.

Imagine how much scarier it is to be inside it all.

” She was silent for a long moment, and when she spoke again, the words were labored.

“I wish I’d told Mal how much I was hurting.

But I didn’t, of course. I drew in on myself.

I hid. I blocked him out. I was hurting so badly, and I didn’t know—didn’t want to know, I think—that he was hurting too.

It was a selfish thing to think, but at the time, I couldn’t imagine anyone else knowing the same kind of pain.

I wish I’d—I’d tried harder to share that.

” She released my hand and sat up straight again.

“Bobby might not be able to think or say those things now, but one day, he’ll wish he’d been able to share that with you. ”

Maybe. Or maybe not; it was hard to say. But when I thought about how angry he’d been about that stupid spreadsheet, I thought maybe I understood a little better now what had been happening, what had really been going on inside his head.

“Thank you,” I finally said. “I hadn’t thought about—well, about a lot of that.”

Indira nodded.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through in the last few days, Indira. I know how awful it is to be accused of something you didn’t do.”

A trace of wariness rose in her face.

“But I know you didn’t kill Mal,” I said. “And I’m not going to let you throw away your life.”

Something hit the roof and rattled against the wood shingles.

“You don’t want to say anything?” I asked.

She stared back at me.

So much for my brilliant plan. “I’m not going to let you do this,” I said. “I know you’re covering for Nalini. I know you love her. I know you think you’re doing the right thing. And for all I know, Nalini might have had a good reason for what she did. But that’s for the courts to decide.”

Still nothing.

The heat from the fire made me pull at my collar.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll tell the sheriff myself.”

I stood. I pushed in my chair. I turned toward the door and took a step.

“Dash,” Indira said. “Don’t.”

“I know you think you’re doing the right thing,” I said. “But I love you, and you don’t need to—to punish yourself, or do penance, or atone, or whatever you think you’re doing.”

When I put my hand on the door, Indira shifted in her seat. The rustle of clothing broke the stillness. And then she said, “It’s not Nalini. We argued, yes. Because she’s lying to me. But that’s about something else entirely.”

I looked back.

Indira was crying, shaking her head, face turned away from me. “It’s Jethro.”

“Jethro?” A dozen questions ran through my head, but I snatched the first one. “Why?”

She shook her head again, and her features tightened. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks, and she sat, and she kept shaking her head.

“Indira,” I said. I circled the table and crouched next to her. I put my hand on her arm. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she said thickly. “It was so stupid. I was so stupid. And I’m so—so angry with myself.

Angry that it can still hurt so much after all these years.

Angry that I can’t seem to stop hurting.

” She swallowed. “I went to the Rock On Inn that night. After Mal was killed. I wasn’t thinking clearly.

” She gave a shattered laugh. “That’s putting it mildly.

But I went, and I asked Cheri-Ann which room was his because I’d brought something from Mizzenmast for him. I had to see him.”

“Who? Jethro? Why?”

“And then I wasn’t brave enough. I stood there at the top of the stairs, trying to work up the courage. That’s when I saw someone come out of Jethro’s room.”

“You saw Jethro come out of his room?”

She shook her head. “Someone else. They were dressed in dark, bulky clothes, and I didn’t get a good look at them, but I knew right away that something was wrong.

They left, and I…I forced the lock and went into the room because I thought maybe something had happened to Jethro, but he wasn’t there.

And then I was even more confused. I thought maybe a robber…

” She wiped her cheeks. “It was sticking out from under a pillow. There was no way to miss it.”

“The gun,” I said. “The gun that killed Mal.”

“I didn’t even think about fingerprints.

As soon as I saw it, I knew why that person had been in Jethro’s room: they’d planted the gun to frame him.

And I knew I had to get it out of there.

I took it, and I went straight home and hid it.

I didn’t know what to do with it. I thought I should get rid of it.

” She gave me a watery look that still somehow managed a hint of amusement.

“I know better than most people how foolish it is to hold on to a murder weapon. But a part of me kept thinking that if I did get rid of it, the real killer would get away with it. I was still trying to decide what to do the next day when the deputies came to search the flat.” A note of frustration rang in her next words. “I don’t know how they knew.”

But I did. Or I thought I did. Whoever had planted that gun in Jethro’s room had waited for Jethro to come home. They wanted to call the sheriff’s office when he did. And instead, they’d seen Indira go inside.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Jethro seems like a nice kid, but why would you—” The words do something so stupid rose in my throat; I managed to change them to “—take such a risk?”

Indira looked at me like I was, perhaps, denser than she’d thought.

But her voice had a buckled-down quality when she spoke again.

“I knew as soon as I saw him,” she said.

“You can see it in their faces. And I know—I know it’s foolish.

But I couldn’t help looking at him and thinking—” She stopped, and there was so much in the silence that came next.

“—thinking, what if things had been different?”

And then everything clicked, and I heard myself say, “Jethro is Mal’s son.”