Justin’s dad, J.T. renovated it just before Justin was born. He knocked out an entire wall and replaced it with glass so there’s a panoramic view of the sapphire blue ocean below. There’s a deck and patio where we sunbathe or barbeque when weather allows. Inside there’s a full bar with stools, popcorn maker, cotton candy machine, small fridge, and dart board off to the side. The L-shaped fluffy black couch takes up most of the room with glass coffee table separating it from the sixty-inch plasma TV. Every videogame system invented is attached to the TV. Hundreds of wasted, yet fun as hell, hours have been spent on those things. We’re both very competitive, almost to a fault, and once spent eighteen hours straight trying to kill each other. I won. Taking up half a wall is a bookcase filled with DVDs, mostly comedy and action. Justin’s a cineophile. Last count was a thousand. The digital juke-box is next to a giant stone fireplace big enough to burn a human with the oldest map of Galilee hanging above it. I’ve always thought it’s out of place in here, but elegant.
I sit him on the couch, pulling my hand away. “Can I get you anything? A drink?”
He looks up at me. “You need to tell me everything that happened. Everything. Start with this morning.”
I sit next to him, grabbing one of the throw pillows to hug. “Justin, I don’t think—”
His eyes grow wide. “I don’t care what you think. I need to know. Tell me.”
With a sigh, I walk him through the day’s events, omitting the more gruesome or disturbing aspects, stopping before I get to the threat. He listens, only flinching a few times. “That’s it. That’s all I know.”
“That’s everything?” I nod. His eyes narrow. “You’re lying.”
“I’ve told you everything important.”
“I want every detail.”
“No, you don’t. And I sure as hell am not going to tell you, okay? So don’t ask again.”
He seems to accept this for the time being. “The door was unlocked when you got there?”
“Yeah. I think he picked the lock.”
“And what time did he, um, enter?”
“Sometime between six and six thirty this morning.”
“I was already in New Urbana,” he says to himself.
“Don’t start that,” I say.
“What?”
“When Pop died I came up with a dozen things I could, would, or should have done to stop it from happening. I turned it around in my head so much, I made it my fault. Stupid things like if I had packed him an apple, he wouldn’t have stopped at that mini-mart. Or if I hadn’t needed all of that Justice crap he would have gotten a safer job. And then I ended up on a bridge.” I reach across and touch his hand. “Listen to me. There is nothing you could have done. They didn’t die because you went on a business trip. They didn’t die because you forgot to tell them you loved them before you left. They died because a psychopath killed them. Nothing more. Making it your fault and torturing yourself will do nothing to change that fact. It’ll just make you crazy. I’m speaking from experience.”
“But—”
“Listen to the words coming out of my mouth like you have never listened to anything before. This…is not—your—fault.” It’s mine.
He pulls his hand away. “I think I need to be alone now.”
“That’s the last thing you need.”
“Joanna, you need to leave me alone.” He looks up at me, eyes like ice. “Right now.”
If anyone else had spoken or looked at me like that, I’d pull my gun just to be safe. “Fine.” I stand and walk to the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
I’d take it personally, but I know how he feels. I didn’t want anyone within a hundred feet of me when Pop died. All those people looking at me, coddling me, it drove me nuts. I screamed at Aunt Emily when she tried to hug me. I locked myself in my room for a whole day after that. Isolation didn’t make things better, but it didn’t make things worse. At least I didn’t have to keep up a strong front.
I make it down the hallway when Dobbs comes up to me. “Miss Joanna, the police are at the front gate.”
“Already? Crap.” I sigh. He’s in no shape to answer invasive questions. “Okay, let them in and show them to the parlor. I’ll be there in a minute.” Dobbs begins walking to the front door, and I go back the way I came. So much for alone time. When I get back to the living room, Justin’s gone. He’s not out on the patio either. I even check the stairs down to the beach, but he’s nowhere to be found. How the hell did he get past me? I rush back inside into the parlor where Harry and Cam wait. I smile graciously as I enter. “Hello.”