Blood on My Hands

the EMS squad ended, his father would end, too. He had already experienced the loss of one parent and could not bear the thought of going through that again. Besides, now he had Callie, and as long as he had her, things would be okay.
    Then high school ended and it was time for him to serve in the armed forces, just as every Lamont had since the First World War. And this, too, he had always known he would do, regardless of whether he believed in it. But he had a secret, a bad knee he’d carefully exercised to keep strong but had started to neglect, hoping that it would grow weaker and eventually get him sent home.
    So he did the things he didn’t want to do, went far away from home to train for a war he didn’t understand and wasn’t sure he believed in. And he was homesick and missed Callie horribly and counted not only the days but the hours and minutes until he could go back home and see her again.
    And then, just a few weeks before he was supposed to go home, she called one night and, out of what felt like nowhere, said they were through and she didn’t want to see him again. It made no sense. He felt as if he’d been blindsided. Suddenly the wall he had built collapsed and the sadness came rushing at him and enveloped him and he had nothing to grab on to. He flailed helplessly in the dark, went into shock, and became numb with disbelief. He called and wrote to Callie, but she didn’t answer. It seemed unspeakably cruel and heartless for her to have broken up with him so abruptly and unexpectedly, without giving him a chance to respond.
    And then, to make everything even worse, he learned that his unit would be sent overseas, to support the troops at war. He stumbled through the final weeks of Guard training like a zombie and then went home, determined to confront Callie in person, but before he could, someone else appeared in his life. Someone familiar. And she told him what he’d both suspected and feared—that while he’d been away, the girl he loved had quietly begun to see someone else.
    The news was excruciating, like salt poured into a wound already too deep and painful to survive, and it produced an anger in him so extreme that he was not sure he could control it. And yet he wasn’t entirely surprised. He’d seen it happen to others in his barracks. Now it was his turn.
    Frightened by his own anger, and unsure that he could stand Callie’s lying to him about this other guy, he decided not to confront her. Instead, he followed the example his father had set: he tried to become numb and threw himself into work, meanwhile hoping that his bad knee might prevent him from being deployed. Like his father, he might have resigned himself to nights in front of the TV, but that other girl made it clear that she had more than gossip to share with him. In fact, she had something to offer that might save his life.

Chapter 48
    Sunday 5:21 A.M.
    WITH TEARS OF disbelief and confusion running down my cheeks, I stand in the motel doorway while they put Slade in the back of the patrol car and lock the doors. Then Chief Jenkins comes back toward me. “Call your mom, Callie. She’s frantic.”
    I’m still so shocked that I can’t find the words to acknowledge him. He starts toward the patrol car, then stops and turns back to me. “I’m sorry, Callie. This whole thing … came as a huge shock … to everyone involved.”
    “It doesn’t make sense,” I hear myself whimper.
    He purses his lips, as if there’s more he could tell me but he has decided not to. “Go home.”
    He gets into the patrol car. In the back, Slade stares at me with tears running down his face. He nods. I mouth the words I love you , and he does the same. The police cruiser rolls away.
    Numb, I go back into the motel room. Slade’s cell phone is lying on the night table. I open it and there on the screen is a photo of me. And it just makes me cry harder.
    But finally, when I feel like I’ve gotten control of myself, I call Mom and tell her I’m okay and I’ll be home later. She wants to know where I’ve been and I promise to explain that, too.
    Then I sit on the unmade bed and try to make sense of it. But I can’t. Slade killed Katherine? It simply can’t be. The only explanation is that the police are as wrong about him as they were about me. And that means I’m still not finished. I’ve proved that I had nothing to do with Katherine’s murder, and now I have to prove the same for Slade. But how? Where do I begin?
    Lost