you going to help?” He grabs another drawer and puts it in place.
Cooper doesn’t flinch. It’s as if he hasn’t heard a thing we’ve said.
A surge of adrenaline hits my system, propelling me forward. There’s no time to make the bed properly, so I figure it’s best to camouflage things as much as possible. Wadding his bed sheets in a pile, I shove them into the near-full hamper, then drape the stripped mattress with the bedspread and set his pillows in place. It looks as good as new, at least at first glance. Then I scoop up his scattered clothes, cram them into each drawer without any care as to where they should actually go. As Jack rights the desk and replaces the drawers, I do shove the books back on the bookcase. They’re not in any discernible order but at least they’re all spine-out.
Just as we’ve finished setting up Cooper’s laptop and printer, the ambulance sirens whirr in the distance. The room’s not perfect, but at least it doesn’t look like a war zone. I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast, not even when we outran the plateye hellhounds at the museum.
Wheezing for air, I kneel beside Cooper and place my hand on his. “They’re coming. We’re going to have to let them in the door and tell them what happened. Can you get up?”
He looks up at me, his hunter-green eyes rimmed with red and heavy with grief.
The sirens blare up the long oak-lined driveway leading to High Point Bluff.
Jack crouches in front of Cooper. “Dude, just get yourself downstairs, okay? We’ll do the talking until your dad shows up. Think you can do that?”
Cooper nods.
“Good. Come on.” Standing, Jack extends his hand to Cooper, who takes it and pulls himself up to his feet.
We race through the hall, then down the stairs just as the doorbell rings. Johnson and Briscoe, the two paramedics who helped Miss Delia after she was attacked, are at the door, a stretcher in hand.
“She’s in the master bathroom. It’s at the back of the master suite at the end of the hall.” I point in the general direction.
“Would you like us to come with you?” Jack asks as they push past and mount the stairs.
“No thanks,” Briscoe answers. “We’ll take it from here. Y’all wait on the sheriff. He ought to be around shortly.”
With nowhere else to go, we settle onto the upholstered bench on the side of the grand foyer, waiting for whoever comes next. Cooper grasps my hand, gripping my fingers as if his life depends on it.
“It’ll be okay. I promise,” I whisper.
He gives me a hard squeeze.
Jack’s shoulders slump as if the adrenaline rush has finally worn off and the enormity of everything that’s happened has finally hit him. “I can’t believe it. Missy is dead.” He stares down at the floor, his mouth agape.
A single tear runs down Cooper’s cheek. Which is super weird. Of course her death is a horrible shock, but she was pretty awful to him, especially lately. No one would blame him if he didn’t exactly mourn her passing.
I search for something to make him feel better. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure you’re going to miss her.” Lame, but isn’t that what you’re supposed to say when someone dies?
Both he and Jack turn to me, their brows crinkled in confusion.
“Are you crazy?” Jack asks.
I shrug. “What do you want from me? His stepmother just died and he’s obviously upset about it.”
Cooper shakes his head. “I’m sorry she’s gone. But that’s not why I’m upset.” He swallows hard.
“Then why?” Jack looks mystified.
Cooper draws a deep breath then exhales, bracing himself. “She looks just like my mom did when she died.”
Chapter Ten
“W hat?” Jack asks, his jaw hanging as slack as mine.
Cooper never talks about his mother. Ever. So to bring her up now—and her death when he was just five years old—amid everything that’s happening just makes it all the more jarring.
Cooper opens his mouth but then shuts it again and drops his gaze to
Cooper doesn’t flinch. It’s as if he hasn’t heard a thing we’ve said.
A surge of adrenaline hits my system, propelling me forward. There’s no time to make the bed properly, so I figure it’s best to camouflage things as much as possible. Wadding his bed sheets in a pile, I shove them into the near-full hamper, then drape the stripped mattress with the bedspread and set his pillows in place. It looks as good as new, at least at first glance. Then I scoop up his scattered clothes, cram them into each drawer without any care as to where they should actually go. As Jack rights the desk and replaces the drawers, I do shove the books back on the bookcase. They’re not in any discernible order but at least they’re all spine-out.
Just as we’ve finished setting up Cooper’s laptop and printer, the ambulance sirens whirr in the distance. The room’s not perfect, but at least it doesn’t look like a war zone. I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast, not even when we outran the plateye hellhounds at the museum.
Wheezing for air, I kneel beside Cooper and place my hand on his. “They’re coming. We’re going to have to let them in the door and tell them what happened. Can you get up?”
He looks up at me, his hunter-green eyes rimmed with red and heavy with grief.
The sirens blare up the long oak-lined driveway leading to High Point Bluff.
Jack crouches in front of Cooper. “Dude, just get yourself downstairs, okay? We’ll do the talking until your dad shows up. Think you can do that?”
Cooper nods.
“Good. Come on.” Standing, Jack extends his hand to Cooper, who takes it and pulls himself up to his feet.
We race through the hall, then down the stairs just as the doorbell rings. Johnson and Briscoe, the two paramedics who helped Miss Delia after she was attacked, are at the door, a stretcher in hand.
“She’s in the master bathroom. It’s at the back of the master suite at the end of the hall.” I point in the general direction.
“Would you like us to come with you?” Jack asks as they push past and mount the stairs.
“No thanks,” Briscoe answers. “We’ll take it from here. Y’all wait on the sheriff. He ought to be around shortly.”
With nowhere else to go, we settle onto the upholstered bench on the side of the grand foyer, waiting for whoever comes next. Cooper grasps my hand, gripping my fingers as if his life depends on it.
“It’ll be okay. I promise,” I whisper.
He gives me a hard squeeze.
Jack’s shoulders slump as if the adrenaline rush has finally worn off and the enormity of everything that’s happened has finally hit him. “I can’t believe it. Missy is dead.” He stares down at the floor, his mouth agape.
A single tear runs down Cooper’s cheek. Which is super weird. Of course her death is a horrible shock, but she was pretty awful to him, especially lately. No one would blame him if he didn’t exactly mourn her passing.
I search for something to make him feel better. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure you’re going to miss her.” Lame, but isn’t that what you’re supposed to say when someone dies?
Both he and Jack turn to me, their brows crinkled in confusion.
“Are you crazy?” Jack asks.
I shrug. “What do you want from me? His stepmother just died and he’s obviously upset about it.”
Cooper shakes his head. “I’m sorry she’s gone. But that’s not why I’m upset.” He swallows hard.
“Then why?” Jack looks mystified.
Cooper draws a deep breath then exhales, bracing himself. “She looks just like my mom did when she died.”
Chapter Ten
“W hat?” Jack asks, his jaw hanging as slack as mine.
Cooper never talks about his mother. Ever. So to bring her up now—and her death when he was just five years old—amid everything that’s happening just makes it all the more jarring.
Cooper opens his mouth but then shuts it again and drops his gaze to
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