Shooting Starr by Kathleen Creighton

many different shades of silence there were. This one shimmered around the edges, balanced on the verge of sound, like that suspenseful moment of emptiness in a symphony just before the strings come in at triple pianissimo.
    Then everyone spoke at once, a murmur and chatter of sound that blew past her ears like a capricious gust of wind.
    In its wake, C.J. said, with what she thought was a touch of belligerence, “Look, it’s the perfect place. Where we live it’s way out in the country—”
    â€œIt is that,” said Charly dryly. “C.J.’s right. Out there, the only neighbors are friends and family, and they all know one another. It’d be just about impossible for any stranger to get close enough to Caitlyn to do her harm, and anybody dumb enough to try would have to go through all the brothers and in-laws first—” she interjected a rich,warm chuckle “—not to mention Momma Betty. Personally, I’d bet on Betty Starr up against a hit man any day of the week.”
    Jake said, thoughtful and somber, “Actually, it’s got possibilities. There’s no way to connect any of you with Caitlyn….” She could tell by the clarity of his voice that he was looking at her, waiting for her reaction.
    â€œHoney?” Her dad’s voice, cautious and distant. “What do you think?”
    What did she think? She couldn’t think. The silence was all around her…vibrant…waiting. Where was C.J.? Was he watching her? Were they all looking at her, watching for her response? Searching her face for revelations? Unable to see them, she felt exposed…vulnerable…naked. In self-defense, she fought to make her expression unreadable.
    â€œIn case she needs lookin’ after, my sister Jess is a nurse, lives right there with my mother,” C.J. put in, rather like a punctuation mark—as if that should settle it.
    C.J., who’d let her down and turned her in to the police and got Mary Kelly killed. Now he expected her to go home with him? Let him and his Southern relatives take care of her?
    Caitlyn’s head felt as if it might explode. Through the hum of sound inside it, like the conversation of angry bees, she heard a chorus of agreement:
    â€œIt’s not a bad idea….”
    â€œActually, it’s a great idea.”
    â€œIt’d be the ideal place….”
    â€œShe’d be protected….”
    â€œIt’s the perfect solution.”
    â€œWe’d have to get her there without anybody knowing,” Jake said slowly. “And I mean anybody. ” Caitlyn felt his weight shift as he turned from her to address the others. She heard the rush of a sharply exhaled breath. “Getting her out of this place won’t be easy. Camera crews and news media everywhere you—”
    â€œDo I hear somebody playing my tune?” That was a new voice, light and musical as birdsong.
    Someone said, “Eve!” and it was echoed around the room in varying tones of surprise and delight, along with cries of “Hey, when did you get back?” and “I thought you were in Afghanistan!”
    Jake’s weight was gone from the bed. Caitlyn heard, “Hey, Waskowitz…” in a voice deep-throated and husky with intimacy, and after a moment, more softly, “You just get in?”
    â€œJust,” the newcomer murmured back. “I came as soon as I got your message.”
    â€œHow was your flight? Get any sleep?”
    â€œOkay…not much…never mind…”
    Chafing with impatience, Caitlyn waited, listening to the exchange of mundane and essential information between partners and lovers—for that much was obvious from the first word spoken by the newcomer—reunited after a separation prolonged both in time and distance. She stared fiercely into the nothingness as if she could penetrate it with the sheer effort of her will, and was struggling against a childish