Blood Trail

Staying clear of police investigations had always been one of his tenets of survival.

    "Colin, you and Barry, get Peter into the back of your car. Rose, stay with him. Don't let him change again. And Rose, you weren't here either. The boys picked you up on their way back into town as you were running along the road, trying to get here, furious that Stuart and Celluci wouldn't take you with them. Got that?"

    Rose sniffed again and nodded, letting go of her twin only long enough to pull on the T-shirt Stuart stripped off and gave her. It fell to mid-thigh and would do as clothing until they reached the doctor's where the entire family kept something to wear.

    Gently Colin lifted his brother and, with Peter's head lolling in the hollow of his throat, made for the door, Rose close at his side, her hands chasing each other up and down her twin's body.

    "Wait by the car," Vicki called, sending Barry after them. "There're a few more things you'll have to know."

    "Like what you're planning to do about the corpse," Celluci snapped, running both hands up through his hair, his patience nearly at an end. "I don't know if you've taken a good look at it, but someone obviously helped it achieve its current condition, which is going to be just a little hard to explain. Or were you just going to bury it in the woods and conveniently forget about it? And what about Mr. Biehn? Where does he fit into this fairy tale you're wea ... ?"

    The gunshot, even strangely muffled as it was, jerked Celluci around. Stuart growled and fought to get himself free of the confining sweatpants. Even Henry whirled to face the sound, and from outside the barn came questioning exclamations and running footsteps.

    Vicki only closed her eyes and tried not to listen, tried to think of flowers spread across an August morning like a fallen rainbow.

    "He went into the corner, put the rifle muzzle in his mouth and pulled the trigger with his toe."
    She felt Celluci's hands on her shoulders and opened her eyes.

    "You knew he was going to do that, didn't you?"

    She shrugged as well as she was able considering his grip. "I suspected."

    "No, you knew!" He started to shake her. "Why the hell didn't you stop him?"

    She brought her arms up between his and broke his hold. They stood glaring at each other for a moment and when she thought he'd actually hear her, she said, "He couldn't live with what he'd done, Mike. Who was I to say he had to?" Sliding her glasses up her nose, she looked past him and drew a long shuddering breath. "We're not done yet. Is there a can of kerosene around for that lamp?"

    "Here, by the table." Stuart bent to lift the five gallon can.

    "No, don't touch it."

    Celluci knew at that moment what she was going to do and knew this was his last chance to stop her, to bring this entire night back under the cover of the law. He strongly suspected that if he tried, both Henry and Stuart would align themselves firmly on her side. Trouble was, if it came to choosing sides. ...

    Vicki dug a pair of leather driving gloves out of the bottom of her purse and as though she was reading his mind asked him, as she pulled them on. "Did you want to add something, Celluci?"

    Slowly, realizing he had no choice at all, he shook his head, forgetting that she couldn't see him. He'd decided where he stood back at the farmhouse when he'd passed on the information she'd given him. She knew that as well as he did. Maybe better.

    Gloves in place, Vicki bent and carefully picked up the can. It felt nearly full. She unscrewed the cap, and paused. She needed both hands on the can but would be unable to see without her flashlight the moment she left the immediate area of the lamp. "God damn it all to ..."

    Celluci found himself looking at Henry, whose expression so clearly said, It's up to you, that it took a moment before he realized it hadn't been said out loud.

    Up to me. Right. As if I had a choice. But he walked forward and picked up the flashlight anyway.

    Vicki squinted up into his face, but the light was too bad to make out nuances. Not that Celluci tends to do nuances. It was enough he was there; it helped. Let's get on with it.

    She walked along the beam of light toward Mark Williams body, pouring the kerosene carefully on the packed earth floor as she went, thankful that her grip on the can hid the trembling of her fingers. The law had meant everything to her once. "As far as anyone will be able to piece together, there was a fight, probably