Circle of Blood (Forensic Mystery)

bare feet.
    “What are you doing?” Cameryn asked, rising from the chair.
    “I need to go out for a while.”
    “You’re not a murderer, Hannah. I don’t understand why my dad said those things. It was an accident!”
    “You want the truth? All of it?”
    Cameryn nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she did.
    Hannah stood. “After the funeral, Patrick said I was an unfit mother. I killed your sister, so maybe I was. But I couldn’t take it. So I tried to hurt myself. They . . .” She paused for only a beat. “I was put away. For a long time.”
    “Put away?”
    “In a mental institution. I was there until they gave me some pills, and then I got better. Tegretol, which has been my savior. I’m all healed now. You probably don’t believe it, but it’s true.”
    Shocked, Cameryn said, “He—Dad never said a word.” “Not telling you was the only grace Patrick has ever given me. Well,” she said, “now you know. You’re free to hate me just the way Patrick wants you to.” Wiping her hands on her jeans, Hannah walked to her dresser and picked up a set of keys. She plucked her jacket from a hook on the wall and shrugged it on. “I feel like I’m straining inside my own skin. Do you know what that’s like? Just let me be for a while.” Then, lifting her purse from a corner, she slung it over her shoulder and headed out the door.
    Cameryn watched, frozen, unsure of her next move. Finally she stuttered out a protest, but Hannah was gone. Running, tripping, she made her way to the top of the stairs. “Wait! I understand! We need to talk about this. Mom! Please!”
    But her mother didn’t answer. Instead, the door to the Wingate slammed shut, rattling the stained glass in reply.

Chapter Three
    IT WAS ONLY two o’clock in the afternoon, and dusk had already begun to descend on Silverton. Low-hanging clouds hovered at the bottom of the mountains and rolled into the streets, turning the air opaque. Cameryn could feel it, the clouds expectant, wishing they could burst open with snow.
    Not wanting to return home, she’d parked her car in the back lot of the Grand Hotel. She needed to walk, to get her mind in order by moving her body. Her cowboy boots scuffed the shoveled wooden walkway as she made her way along Greene Street, weaving through the crowd of people who had come for Silverton’s annual Christmas festival. Bright-eyed and red-cheeked from the cold, the milling crowd seemed happy, full up with Christmas spirit. Bowing her head so low the collar of her parka cupped her cheeks, she pressed on, trying not to envy their easy joy.
    Suddenly a siren went off beside her, a single loud blast. Whirling around, she saw a police car. A window glided down and she looked inside to see Justin’s smiling face. “Hey, Cammie, need a ride?”
    “You about blasted out my eardrums,” she said. She felt her face flush, as she realized the crowd’s attention was now riveted on her. It was as if the entire street had stopped to stare, frowning at her with suspicion. “Everyone’s looking at me,” she hissed. “They think I’m under arrest or something.”
    “Hop inside and I’ll read you your rights.”
    “You are so not funny.”
    “You want me to give this siren another blast?”
    “All right, all right,” she conceded, “just for a minute.” She was only feigning reluctance. She’d missed him. Caught in the vortex of her new life, she hadn’t connected with Justin in weeks, but in that there’d been a loss. It would be good to spend time with him again.
    Cameryn opened the door and slid inside the Durango’s gray interior. The air smelled like chicken noodles, which she realized came from the empty Cup-a-Soup he’d left on the passenger-side floor. “Sorry about that,” he said, reaching down, and when he did so his hand brushed against her leg. He pulled it away quickly, apologetically, crumpling the cup before tossing it into the backseat.
    “I’m on a budget, so this is my fine dining. I’ve got another cup if you’d like one. Did you eat lunch?”
    “No,” she answered, genuinely surprised to realize she hadn’t. “I went to Hannah’s right after the accident scene and then I decided to walk.” Her hand went up, anticipating his next question. “And before you start asking, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s been a hard day and I’m . . . processing.”
    “Yeah, finding that head was surreal. When we put the gym bag on top of the guy’s neck, it was . . . I