My Sister's Keeper by Bill Benners

what you don’t get on the screen is the smell of it. Urine, alcohol, perspiration, blood, and puke.
    And fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of injustice, fear of not being in control.
    Footsteps echoed around the chambers and mixed into the reverberations of men shouting and complaining, iron doors slamming, and the jangle of keys.
    Sitting on the edge of a steel cot, I hung my head as my mind raced back through Sunday night over and over. So many things didn’t make sense; the circuit breaker that was turned off and that photo of her kissing me on the cheek  that couldn’t have been an accident. And how the hell did her blood get on my shirt?
    The reality of what was happening slowly began to sink in. I’d never felt so embarrassed and helpless in my life. My dad was going to disown me. I expected that, but this was going to break my mother’s heart. It might even kill her. And who was going to take care of Martha now?
    I collapsed to my knees and wept. The eyes that had watched me so intensely now turned away.

 
     
     
    15
     
     
    P EARL BAIMBRIDGE SAT on the edge of her daughter’s bed as the Channel 3 News began: “A local photographer was taken into custody for questioning earlier tonight in the case of missing twenty-three-year-old Ashleigh Matthews.”
    Pearl clutched Martha’s hand. “This is going to devastate your father.”
    “ Teresa Hedge has more in this live report.”
    The picture changed to a female reporter standing in front of Ashleigh’s house holding a microphone.
    “ Police arrested Wilmington photographer Richard Baimbridge earlier this evening on suspicion of murder in connection with the case of missing twenty-three-year-old Ashleigh Matthews.”
    Martha had taken a Percocet that left her groggy and thick-tongued. “Oh, Richie,” she moaned as they played video of Richard being paraded through a crowd of reporters and pushed into the back of a police car. Tears streaked Pearl’s cheeks and collected on her chin.
    As the reporter continued, the picture changed to video of the police going in and out of Ashleigh’s house. “Matthews was reported missing Monday morning after her landlord found her door open and evidence of a violent struggle inside.” The picture panned from Ashleigh’s dark pool house to the left as the reporter pointed to Richard’s house next door. “Thirty-two-year-old Baimbridge lives next door to the missing woman and is thought to have been romantically involved with her.”
    Martha squeezed her mother’s hand. “He didn’t do it, Mama. I know he didn’t.”
    “ Sources close to the investigation say evidence linking Baimbridge to the victim was found in her home and a witness alleges to have seen the two of them enter her house around nine Sunday evening. A grand jury hearing has been scheduled for tomorrow morning and is expected to return an indictment formally charging Baimbridge with second-degree murder. Baimbridge could stand trial as early as October. Tonight, some are wondering; Is this an isolated case or could Richard Baimbridge be Wilmington’s serial killer?”
    Pearl clasped a hand over her mouth but it could not contain the cry that escaped from deep within her.
    “ This is Teresa Hedge reporting live.”
    With a clinched fist against her lips, Pearl’s sobs became wails. Martha switched the TV to Channel 6 and caught another story about the arrest—one that showed a close-up of Richard from a photograph taken the year before when he received an award for Director of the Year at Thalian Hall. As another version of the story unfolded, Pearl dropped back against the headboard and wept. Gus stumbled into the room clutching his chest, staggered back against the wall, then toppled face-first onto the hardwood floor.
    “ Daddy!”
    Pearl hurled herself off the bed and, rolling her husband onto his back, dug into his pockets. Blood dripped from a split in his lip and his eyes darted about aimlessly.
    “ Mama! Mama!”
    Pearl screamed,