Covet (Clann)

was home. I’d seen her outside talking to him.
    She had to be still half asleep or something. “Emily, you’ve got to wake up, get up and get dressed. The Clann’s on their way, but I’ve got to get back to the clearing to protect Mom until they get here. And that means you have to come with me. I can’t protect the both of you any other way.”
    Stumbling to her feet, she wrapped a fleece robe around herself. “Tristan, I swear, if this is a prank I will k—”
    “Don’t say it,” I muttered. “This is for real. Dad’s out there in the clearing. He’s… He’s…” I took a deep breath, pushed away my own emotions for the moment. “He’s gone, Em. He’s really gone.”
    Her eyes widened and she flew past me down the staircase and into the kitchen. I helped her balance while she shoved her feet into a pair of rubber boots in the garage. Then we were stumbling and jogging as fast as her too-big footwear would allow.
    When she saw Mom with Dad’s body, she gasped and fell to her knees beside our parents. And finally Mom allowed someone to hug her, burying her face in my sister’s shoulder.
    Dr. Faulkner found us first, with Officer Talbot right on his heels. They checked Dad, confirmed that he had been dead for hours probably, stayed with us as an ambulance showed up to take Dad’s body away. Only then was Emily able to do what the rest of us couldn’t, prying Mom away from Dad and walking her back to the house where she gave Mom a sleeping pill and helped her to bed. The sleeping pill was probably unnecessary, though…Mom had exhausted herself trying to bring Dad back.
    While Emily got Mom settled for the night, Officer Talbot and Dr. Faulkner asked me questions in the kitchen. Their tone was calm, but they kept asking the same questions over and over.
    And I kept telling them the same answers.
    “I don’t know who the guy was. He was dressed nice, slacks, shiny black loafers, long black wool coat. I never saw his car—he must have parked in front and walked around back. Emily seemed to know him. She hugged him hello. You should ask her who he is. I never heard them talking. I don’t know what he wanted. He showed up around five or so.”
    At some point, Emily came back downstairs and Officer Talbot pulled her aside in the foyer. But I could hear her replies.
    “I’m telling you, there was no one here. I never saw Dad come home,” she insisted. “I’ve been in my room sick and asleep all day. Ask my mom, she’ll tell you.”
    I’d known Emily was good, but this was a whole new level of lying. After several minutes of listening to it, I was ready to strangle her.
    “Cut the crap, Emily.” I wove around Dr. Faulkner into the foyer. “Just tell them the truth. This is our dad we’re talking about here. You and that guy were the last ones to see Dad alive. So tell them the truth!”
    Her eyes welled up with tears, her eyebrows drawn together. “But I am telling you the truth! I remember Mom going to get groceries, and you were going with her. I fell back asleep, and the next thing I know, you’re shaking me awake and telling me about Dad—”
    “You’re saying you don’t remember anything about putting on your coat and house shoes and scarf and going outside to talk to Dad and some stranger for nearly two hours?”
    “No.”
    “No, you don’t remember doing that, or no, you didn’t do it?” I tried reading her mind, but it was a locked vault as always.
    Could she have been sleepwalking? She’d never done it before that I knew about. But she was pretty exhausted. Maybe the flu meds or Mom’s herbal drinks or the combination of them had somehow messed with Emily’s mind or something?
    “Does your sister have a history of sleepwalking?” Officer Talbot asked.
    At the same time, Dr. Faulkner began checking Emily’s pupils with a penlight he’d pulled from his pocket. “Emily, do you often lose track of time or hear about things others have seen you do that you have no memory of?”
    “No.” The tears ran freely down her face now. “And I think I’d remember my own dad being hurt by someone.”
    “Look, I’m telling you what I saw and everything I know,” I said. “Maybe something or someone’s messed with her memory. But I was wide awake, I haven’t been sick or taken any kind of meds or drank anything, and I know what I saw. He was youngish, maybe early twenties, with light brown hair, short on the sides and back, kind of long on top. He was about Emily’s