Dust to Dust

she spoke.
    “He was going after the gun,” said Kingsley. “He was planning on shooting one of them. I’ve been watching him.”
    “You’re crazy. I’m going to sue,” Carruthers said. He stood, scowling at Kingsley, his bathrobe askew, showing his gray boxer shorts and T-shirt. He rubbed his jaw and ran a hand through his uncombed hair.
    “I saw it,” said Kingsley. “You telegraphed your intentions. You’ve been sitting there stewing over your helplessness. And now that everything’s over, you were going to get a gun and shoot one of the people responsible for your daughter’s death. Now that they were helpless and you could do it in safety.”
    “How dare you,” began Marsha, retying her own robe. “You come in here and disrupt our lives.”
    Kingsley ignored her.
    “If you want to be a man, take care of your family. The two of you have been self-indulgent so long, you’ve forgotten that you have another daughter. Get out of the computer games and quit sitting staring at your dead daughter’s painting and drinking yourself into oblivion. Look at the two of you. Your daughter just came in and saved your sorry ass and all you can think of is how to make yourself feel like a man. Did either of you go to her just now? And while I’m at it, do you know she found Stacy Dance’s body? Do you know what that kind of thing does to a person?” said Kingsley.
    Marsha whimpered and looked at her daughter. “Samantha? How could she have found her? That doesn’t make sense.”
    “There’s going to be a lot in your world that doesn’t make sense for a while,” said Kingsley. “Start by getting sober and talking to your daughter like an adult. And thank her for saving us all.”
    “Well said,” whispered Diane.
    She started to say something, when she heard Kathy Nicholson yell at Wendy. Diane turned to find Wendy with a gun on them.
    “This is just too much,” said Diane. “Put down the gun.”
    Wendy had tears running down her cheeks and was rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. She looked strange to Diane, uneasy on her feet. She tried to speak but collapsed on the floor.
    Diane ran to her and felt her neck. Nothing.
    “No pulse,” said Diane.
    “What?” said Kathy. “How?”
    Samuel Carruthers came over to her and felt for a pulse himself. Then he felt the back of her neck. “She’s gone,” he said.
    “The hit by Everett?” asked Diane.
    Samuel nodded. “I think it broke her cervical vertebrae. When she started moving, the bones cut through her spinal cord.”
    Diane put a hand over her eyes. “God, this is just an awful day,” she said.
    “What was she trying to do?” asked Marsha.
    “I think, save her son from us,” said Diane. “I don’t know.”
    “That man drove her crazy,” said Kathy.
    “Did anyone call the police?” said Diane.
    “I did,” said Samantha. “Before my big entrance.”
    Diane went back over to where Everett was stirring. “Just stay on the floor,” she said.
    “What are you doing here?” Marsha asked her daughter.
    “I came in through the window upstairs to get some of my things. I was trying to do it without your knowing. Then I heard some crazy stuff down here, so I crept down with my guitar. Good thing.”
    Diane heard the police sirens. It was a happy song. She and Kingsley gladly gave long statements to the police that went well into the afternoon. It was dinnertime before she and Kingsley went to their vehicles.
    “We’ve got to quit meeting like this,” said Kingsley.
    Diane put a hand on the handle of her car door. “I’m giving up private work. Don’t call unless you want a tour of the museum. By the way, that was quite a lecture you gave the Carruthers.”
    “They needed it. It really pissed me off when he decided to do some man stuff after his daughter did all the rescue work,” said Kingsley.
    “Are they going to be all right?” asked Diane.
    Kingsley shrugged. “Samantha will be. I don’t know about her parents. Who knows? Sometimes near-death experiences can change people. Want to meet at the Olive Garden on the way out of town? I’m famished.”

Epilogue
    Diane wrote up the final report on all the crime scenes her crime lab team was involved in relating to Everett and Tyler Walters. The police turned up more evidence than they needed executing the search warrants. Everett Walters thought he was being so clever not leaving any evidence. He never checked his feet. They found two more pottery pieces and