Gone to Ground by Brandilyn Collins

Where was his nose for news when I needed it? Half the town had to know about Stevie by now.
    The line clicked in my ear. "Hi, Deena."
    "Trent! They've brought Stevie to the station for questioning."
    "What?"
    "They're talkin to him right now, and who knows what on earth he's sayin."
    "Why'd they come after him in the first place?"
    I hesitated. "Somebody said they saw him runnin home Tuesday night after work all agitated. And the police think they found somethin at his house."
    "What'd they find?"
    Twelve-thirty, the witness had said. They were off by a good half hour. Twelve-thirty gave Stevie all the more time to kill Erika. But how could I tell the cops I'd seen him at midnight?
    "You got to do somethin, Trent. They practically barged into his house without a warrant. You know Stevie couldn't figure how to tell em no."
    I reached the front of the station and pivoted, pacin away from the door. What was goin on in that room? I wanted to rush inside and punch out the police. Punch out my brother. Why hadn't he listened to me?
    Stevie had killed Erika, hadn't he. And the others. He really was a murderer, and I didn't know what to do .
    "Deena. What did they find?"
    It came back to me then—the words Chief Cotter had thrown at Stevie the last time he was a suspect. "You mad , Steven?" the chief had pressed. "You carryin a boilin rage around inside you?" That was the chief's theory. The Closet Killer carried hidden rage—and murder was the way he let it out.
    I slid to a halt and leaned against the wall. My brain would hardly think straight. Stevie did carry hidden rage. And how could I keep the bloody uniform secret now? Chief Cotter would splash the news all over town. "A dirty uniform. They claim it's got blood on it. And Stevie won't say what it is." I wasn't about to give away anything the police didn't know.
    "Give me five minutes, and I'll be right there."
    "Where are you?"
    "At my sister's house, workin on today's story. See you in a minute."
    I hung up and closed my eyes. My chin fell to my chest. This was a nightmare. If that uniform had Erika's blood on it, Stevie was doomed. So was I. They'd find out he'd come to my house. That I knew about it and covered it up.
    The world started to swim. I staggered to a chair and sank into it. Somehow I managed to call the salon and tell Patsy to cancel my appointments for the afternoon.
    "I heard they took Stevie in." Her tone sounded guarded, as if this time she just might believe he was guilty.
    Was that how Amaryllis would respond? Somebody needed to pay for these murders—might as well as be Steven Ruckland?
    "It's a mistake. Again . They'll clear it up."
    "Yeah, I'm sure—"
    I punched off the line. Set down the phone and dropped my head in my hands. A voice drifted from the interrogation room. Couldn't tell whose.
    The station's door opened. I straightened up to see Officer Chris Dedmon walk in, his black face sheened with sweat. Chris was in his late thirties, a father of four, and a deacon at the Baptist church. I'd gone to school with his younger sister, Rowanda. "Deena." He nodded my direction. "You all right?"
    I shook my head.
    "I hear they got your brother in there."
    "News travels fast."
    "Well." He indicated the radio clipped to his uniform. "I have my connections."
    "He didn't do this, Chris." I had to keep sayin that. For my own sanity.
    "People aren't always what we think."
    I shot him a look to kill. "That's it, then? Guilty until proven innocent?"
    He rubbed the side of his short-cropped head. "Didn't say that at all. I just said people aren't always what we think."
    Of course he was right. How many times had I seen a story on the news about a man no one would have expected bein some serial killer? A family man, a husband and father. That BTK killer in Wichita had even been active in his church, like Chris Dedmon. "Right. That would make you the perfect candidate."
    He shook his head and sighed. For the first time I noticed the bags around his