Buckman hung back in the doorway.
“Cherry’s family is on their way down from Tennessee,” he said. He played with his hat in his hands. “Son, I’m going to need you to come down to the station to give a statement.”
I nodded. “I’ll meet you down there.”
After he left, I sat with Cherry and Ashlee, but I needed to get out of there. The grief was closing in on me and I felt a restlessness to do something. When I was sure Cherry was calm, I said goodbye, and feeling hollow, walked into the early morning sunlight and climbed on my bike.
Isaac was dead.
But it wasn’t because God needed him back.
He was dead because someone had murdered him.
And I was going to find out who it was and send them to their grave.
INDY
I had the police deputy drop me at my mom’s. She was waiting on the little porch out front, and as soon as I climbed the steps, we threw our arms around one another. As we parted, she put her hands on either side of my face. “Are you okay?”
I nodded but my chin trembled and my eyes welled with tears.
“It happened so fast . . .” My words trailed off, caught in my tight throat.
“And Cade? Is he okay?” I remembered the look of agony on Cade’s face as they loaded Isaac’s body into the ambulance. I shook my head. “He’s devastated.”
“Bull rang Ronnie and told her what happened.”
A lot of phones would ring this morning with the news. By now, the entire club and their families would know.
“Abby . . .” I whispered, suddenly aware she would have heard. Alarmed, I looked at my mom. “I have to go to her.”
“I can drive you,” she said.
I raced, frantically listing the things in my head that I needed in order to get out the door. Keys. Handbag. Phone.
Dammit, where was my phone?
“Indy,” my mom said calmly.
But I ignored her. I had to find my phone. I checked in the kitchen, the dining room, the—
“Indy!” My mom’s voice stopped me. I looked across at her, frantic because I couldn’t find my phone and I had to get to Abby’s quickly.
“What?”
She gestured to my clothes. “Don’t you think you should change your clothes first?”
I looked down at my shirt. It was covered in blood spatter.
Isaac’s blood.
I stared at it, my hands shaking as I pulled at the stained fabric and held it out in front of me. That’s when I noticed the dried blood on my hands and up my arms.
Isaac’s blood.
The realization seeped into me.
My face crumpled.
Isaac was dead.
I fled to the bathroom and thrust my hands under the running faucet, furiously scrubbing at my fingers and wrists. Bloody water filled the basin and swirled down the drain in a rust-colored whirlpool. I grabbed more soap and lathered it onto my skin, washing it until the water ran clear. I turned off the faucet and began drying my hands but stopped when I caught a glance of my reflection in the mirror. I straightened and stared numbly. Isaac’s blood was speckled across my face like bright red freckles.
I felt Mom’s hand on my shoulder.
“You need to catch a breath, baby girl,” she said gently. She turned me around and handed me a towel. “Have a shower. Collect yourself. And then you’ll be ready to help Abby.”
Mom was right. I needed to compose myself before I saw her. Abby needed me to be strong. Calm. Collected. Everything that I wasn’t right now.
Suddenly overcome with love and gratefulness for my mom, I threw my arms around her and hugged her tightly to me, absorbing the comfort of her soothing mom-rubs up and down my back.
“You’re okay,” she said reassuringly to me as we parted.
I exhaled deeply and nodded, every ounce of me heavy with the numbness of Isaac’s murder.
When mom left, I closed the door and stripped off. Stepping into the shower, I let the warm water wash Isaac’s blood from my skin. I washed my hair and scrubbed at my skin with the shower loofah I found hanging from the tap, and scrubbed under my nails. Once clean, I dried off and put on some clean clothes, feeling grateful that my clothes were still here and not at the new house. The new house. We were due to move in this weekend.
I sat on the edge of the bath and drew in a deep breath in some attempt to calm the chaos.
And then I started to cry.
Hard.
My hands shook and my chest caved with the weight of my grief as the events of the past couple of hours caught up with me. Isaac was dead. And he had died right in front of me.
I dropped my head to my hands and sobbed, trying desperately to force the images of his last moments out of my mind.