Unrevealed

linger on her moist skin. “Jane…Jane…Jane. I have no choice. I can’t play the game any longer.” She stopped, lost in thought. “My kids… my beautiful children — I know the son-of-a-bitch touched Megan. Not like he touches me. She gets the soft hand. I get the fist.”
    “I’ll get you help,” Jane urged. “You walk out of here with me, I’ll get you help.”
    “Dear, dear, Jane…” Courtney twisted her hand in her jacket pocket to force the butt of the concealed gun into her gut. “You have no idea.”
    “No, Courtney, I do .” She carefully slipped off the barstool and stood next to the bar. “Look, I’ve had a shitty night so far. I don’t need to cap it off with you…capping yourself off.”
    Courtney momentarily looked blank, and then, as if a switch went off, she broke into uproarious laughter. “Oh, Jane! You enjoy such a humorous twist to the English language!”
    Jane reached out toward her. “Please give me the gun, Courtney.”
    Courtney’s laughter quickly ceased as a realization surfaced. “It’s like the dream, Jane. Just now, you standing there like that, with your hand reaching toward me. Remember the dream I told you about? This here, right now , is it manifested in real life.” She cocked her head. “Or is this a dream? I feel so very foggy, Jane.” Courtney slid the revolver from her jacket pocket and, using the business end of the gun, itched her temple. The bartender could be heard slowly walking
away in the background. “Huh…,” she said, her eyes losing focus.
    “What is it?” Jane carefully asked.
    “I just realized that I don’t remember how I got to this bar.”
    “Give me the gun, Courtney. Please?”
    “How did I get here, Jane?”
    “ Courtney ! Give me the gun.”
    Courtney disappeared into herself. “I drove,” she muttered distantly. “How peculiar…”
    “Please…give…me…the…gun,” Jane pleaded.
    Courtney stared at Jane, her eyes housing the specter of chaos. “Are you my friend, Jane?” She traced tiny circles in her cheek with the tip of the gun.
    Jane let out a soft sigh. “Sure.”
    Courtney dove into Jane’s eyes, searching for honesty. “I do believe you are being forthright with me, Jane Perry. Thank you.” Courtney lowered the handgun but still held onto it. She regarded it for a moment as if she were seeing it for the first time. “My, my…” With that, Courtney quietly rested the gun on the bar.
    Jane grabbed a napkin and, gingerly lifting the weapon, ejected the waiting bullet in the chamber and dumped the clip into her palm.
    Courtney turned to the clock. “It’s after two. The bartender left.” Her voice was remote. “I guess we overstayed our welcome.” She patted the perspiration from her forehead. “Is it hot in here to you, Jane?”
    Jane felt her heart race as she placed the unloaded gun back onto the bar. “No, Courtney.”
    “Oh, it is to me .” With that, she removed her jacket and plopped it onto the bar. Underneath, her petal pink turtleneck
was covered with thick splatters of blood. Courtney let out a relieved breath. “Oh, much better!”
    Jane drew Courtney’s jacket toward her, placing it over the gun on the bar. “Courtney?” she said quietly.
    Courtney’s eyes drifted into another realm.
    Jane moved her body so that she was in line with Courtney’s gaze. “Courtney?” she repeated, this time with more urgency. Their eyes met. “You have to hear this. I processed a horrible crime scene tonight. The same one that Cynthia Taylor was reporting on the Channel 9 news? The one you saw on the TV when you came into this bar?” Courtney stared at Jane, nonplussed. “I found Craig in the living room. He was shot twice in the head and three times in the groin.”
    Courtney furrowed her brow. “No…”
    “Megan was in her bed, shot once in the forehead. The two boys were in their beds, both shot once.”
    Courtney shook her head as her lip began to quiver. “What? It’s a mistake…You are mistaken, Jane.”
    Jane felt herself breathing shallowly. “No, Courtney. I’m not mistaken.” She weighed her words carefully. “It was graphic…and it was purposeful.…”
    Courtney looked off to the side. First there was no visible emotion and then a single tear emerged from her right eye, drifting awkwardly down her moist cheek and disappearing into the pink turtleneck. “I…,” she paused, looking lost. “I couldn’t leave the boys without a father or their sister. That