Chapter 14
Bull
Margo is coming to around the time that the majority of the Lawrence County Sheriff’s Department has pulled into my driveway.
I cradle her in my arms, quickly telling her not to mention Edward being here and letting her know that I took the gun and shot her uncle the second time so I would have gunshot residue on my hand.
By now, Edward should be tucked in at Glenn’s place. And hopefully, no one else will know that he’s here.
Matt had grasped the door when my dad had initially shot him, dropping his own gun. He was in the midst of a slow descent to his knees when the bullet I fired pushed him backwards. As Clark mounts the steps to my porch for the second time in as many hours, he squats near the body, studying it.
“My money was on Jason,” Clark says, sounding disappointed after I move to stand a foot or two from the part of Matt’s body that’s blocking the door open. “I appreciate you leaving the body alone. Want to talk me through what happened?”
I’ve tucked a blanket around Margo and left her on the corner of the couch, positioned so I can see her out of the corner of my eye and it’s then that she leans forward, tilting her head so she can hear what I’m going to say.
“After Eli arrived, we had been talking, but I left the room, allowing them to have some time alone,” I tell him.
“When I heard someone pounding on the door, I figured it was you, so I was coming from the hallway, but Eli beat me to the door and Matt was standing there, with his gun trained on his brother.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Plenty. Eli can explain that. I was focused on getting my gun from this shelf,” I say, indicating a shelf on the side of the island. “I shot him, but he was still holding his gun, pointed between Eli and me, so I shot him a second time.”
“Lehmann said he bagged your gun but hasn’t done the GSR test on your hands yet.
We’ll need a list of people and things you’ve touched since you fired your weapon,” Clark informs me as he stands back up.
“Well, like the other night, we’ll split y’all up for your interviews.
We’ll run his print against the unknown ones we found at George’s home.
You’ll get your gun back after your story has cleared the ballistics tests, but I don’t see any reason to ask you to stay elsewhere, as long as you feel safe here. ”
“I do,” I confirm, knowing that I have five other guns on the premises just in case Eli has any other family who might come looking for us.
After the body’s been removed and all but one of the cops have left with the exception of Deming, who apparently drew the short straw and was assigned to stay parked in my driveway until relieved.
While I’ve informed Frost what’s going on, I’ve asked them to stay away until the police presence has died down.
This time when the three of us are sitting in the living room, we’ve switched to coffee.
Eli sits beside Margo, holding her hand but otherwise staring into space, while I’m more interested in watching the emotions crossing my Ol’ Lady’s face, wondering what the hell she’s thinking.
Finally, she unwraps the blanket from her shoulders and looks at her father. “I’m not sharing a dime with any of them,” she announces crossing her arms so her breasts push up.
“Margo,” her father lets out on a sigh.
“No. I don’t care. You worked your ass off to raise me. I started working when I was fourteen because I wanted flight lessons and you said I’d have to pay for them myself.” She turns to look at him straight on.
“I could have paid for the lessons, I just wanted to make sure it was something you really wanted,” Eli tells her, looking sorry for not having done it.
“I know that you would have if I threw a fit, but it wouldn’t have meant what it did to me.
I was so proud of myself because you didn’t hand it to me.
I mean, even that SUV you got me so I wasn’t dependent on rides after I turned sixteen—it needed work and we did that together.
You taught me so much and maybe I’m being a little selfish, but they all lived within a few hours of Granddad and couldn’t be bothered to even respond to a text, unless they needed money. ”
Margo’s cheeks are red as she vents.
“And it’s not like Granddad was throwing money around, other than his electric bill,” she says, allowing herself a small grin.
“His Bronco was nearly as old as I am, I bought him his boots for his birthday, because his were falling apart, and he brought actual paper coupons to the grocery store when we went. If they get his money, it’ll be gone in a couple of years, and they’ll be bitching about him for not leaving them more.
So, they get what they get and that’s it. ”
“Maybe it’s because I can still smell gun oil,” Eli slowly starts after a moment. “But I’m in no hurry to bail any of them out. I guess I’ll wait and see, as time goes by.”
While I’m siding with Margo in my head, I keep my mouth shut since this doesn’t concern me.
“Eli,” I interrupt their conversation a few moments later. “I’m beat and I ain’t going to bed without Margo. There’s a guest room on the left at the back of the hall. Excuse the mess in the room across the hall.”
Staying silent even as his lips draw into a tight line, he gives us a nod and Margo leans over to kiss him on his cheek before standing up to follow me to our room.
Margo
Tracing one of Stryker’s tattoos as he snores beside me, I narrow my eyes at the window, pretending that I have the power to close the blinds without getting out of bed.
After the past few days, and an additional round of sex after leaving my father in the living room, I have zero energy or motivation to move.
If I never see another dead body, it’ll be too soon, I think and almost grown out loud once I remember who’s lying beside me.
He might be an undertaker on the surface, but I have no intention of working beside him.
It’s all I can do to convince myself that Granddad’s funeral won’t be anything like my grandmother’s.
As the morning light fills the room, I take the time to really study it and wonder if Stryker will let me paint it a lighter color.
The dark gray on the walls is a bit on the depressing side.
Scanning the room, my eyes almost miss a painting in the corner, and I immediately know it is one of his mother’s pieces.
With the darker hues in the colors of the mountains and lake that is in the forefront it almost blends into the wall color. On the bottom right, almost like a signature, there’s a couple sitting on a blanket, with a woman leaning back against a man, whose hands are cradling her rounded belly.
Unlike the painting in Stryker’s room in the clubhouse, I know this one was based on a day that actually happened, in a time when his parents were young and happy.
Learning more about his mother gets added to the list of things I have going in my mind.
We have time though.
Before Stryker fell asleep, he promised me a lifetime together and God help him if he doesn’t deliver.