40 Marley
Marley
In the storage room, Marley automatically flicked the light switch, but nothing happened.
Somehow the stupidity of the gesture was the thing that finally brought the tears.
She had never felt so raw and desperate in her life, as if she’d been hollowed out by a chainsaw.
But she wasn’t going to let that stop her. Marshall needed her.
There were no windows in the room, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark.
The fact that her vision was blurred over by the tears didn’t help.
Whereas the storage room in a normal house was basically a closet, this room was about the size of a comfortable bedroom.
Three lines of wire shelves crammed with stuff stood before her. Where was the first aid kit?
Trying to ignore the speaker on the floor, which she was now pretty sure was a murder weapon, Marley walked around to the far side of the first shelf, thinking the first aid kit would be close to the door for easy access.
She was right. On the shelf right in front of her, at eye level, was a wide white plastic case with a handle.
And sitting on top of it was a half-empty bottle of Shizzy’s Hard Fruit Punch.
Marley’s heart, already so battered she was shocked it could function, thunked painfully.
She reached for one of the pool towels on a higher shelf and used it to wipe her face and clear her eyes, to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.
Nope. There was the colorful label. That weird face grinning out at her.
Did this mean what she thought it meant?
From the moment Lincoln spit Shizzy’s all over Candice and told everyone to steer clear, literally the only person she had seen with a Shizzy’s bottle in their hand was Grant.
He’d been drinking it all throughout the party.
She remembered a couple of people asking him about it and him giving them his number to call.
Lincoln had, at some point, asked how Grant was still vertical with all the Shizzy’s he’d been drinking.
She swallowed hard against a suddenly full throat.
If the bottle was evidence that Grant had been in here, that he’d been in here with Lincoln, that the blood splatter on the wall was due to something he’d done to her brother-in-law, then she didn’t want to touch it.
But she couldn’t get the first aid kit out without moving it.
There was a shuffling footstep, and the air in the room shifted.
“Hello?” Marley’s voice broke.
Silence.
She looked left to find the shadowy, hulking outline of Grant standing at the end of the two rows of shelves, blocking her only way out. He looked at her, and then his eyes shifted to the bottle. Fear washed through Marley, loosening her insides as the rest of her body tensed.
“Darn it, Marley,” he said, tipping his head forward. “I really didn’t want to have to do this.”