My Sister's Grave (Tracy Crosswhite, #1)(57)

He typed, not looking at her. “I get it. I understand.”

Tracy reached out and put her hand over the keyboard. Dan sat back. “I just want this to be over,” she said. “You can understand that, can’t you? Once it’s over, then I can move on with my life, all of my life.”

“Of course I can understand it. But Tracy, I can’t guarantee you that’s going to happen.”

His words had an uncharacteristic edge and she realized the stress Dan was also enduring. He’d borne it so well Tracy had forgotten that tomorrow morning, he was not just stepping into a courtroom, but one that would likely be filled with a hostile audience and media throng, and doing so on behalf of a childhood friend who had been on a twenty-year quest for that moment.

“I’m sorry, Dan. I didn’t mean to put any undue pressure on you. I know this has been stressful, especially living here again. And I know there are no guarantees.”

He kept his voice soft. “Judge Meyers could deny House a new trial. He could grant it. Either way, you could be no closer to knowing what happened than you are right now.”

“That’s not true. The hearing will expose the inconsistencies. It will make public what I’ve known privately all these years, that things at the first trial were not as they seemed.”

“I’m worried about you, Tracy. What are you going to do then? What if you still can’t convince anyone to reopen the investigation?”

She’d asked herself the same question many times, but she still didn’t have a ready answer. Outside, a gust of wind rattled the window, causing Rex and Sherlock to raise their heads, ears perked and faces curious.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged and gave him a wistful smile. “There, I said it. Okay? I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m trying to take this one day at a time, one step at a time.”

“Can I give you a suggestion, from experience?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

“The first thing you need to do is stop blaming yourself for what happened.”

Tracy closed her eyes and felt a lump in her throat. “I should have driven her home that night, Dan. I never should have left her alone.”

“And I kept telling myself, if I’d been home more, my wife wouldn’t have been sleeping with my partner.”

“It’s not the same thing, Dan.”

“No, it isn’t. But you’re blaming yourself for something you didn’t do. My wife broke our marriage vows, and whoever killed Sarah is responsible for her death. Not you.”

“She was my responsibility.”

“Nobody took better care of a sister than you, Tracy. No one.”

“Not that night. I didn’t take care of her that night. I was mad at her for letting me win and I didn’t insist that she come with us.” Her voice cracked. She fought back tears. “I live with that every day. This hearing, this is my way of taking care of her, my way of making up for leaving her alone that night. I don’t know what’s going to happen, Dan, but I need to know what did happen. That’s all I’m asking. After that, I’ll take it from there.”

Rex got up and padded to the front window, placing his paws on the sash and peering out into the yard. Dan pushed away from the table and out of his chair. “I better let them out.” He started into the family room. “What is it, boy? You need to go out and take care of business?”

Tracy looked out the window facing the yard. Soft landscape lights lit the flowerbeds and lawn, reflecting in the glass and making it difficult to see the shadow that stepped out from behind the trunk of the tree at the edge of the property.

“Dan!”

The front window exploded.

Tracy knocked back her chair and managed to half tackle, half drag Dan to the floor. She held him down, waiting for additional gunfire. None came. Outside, a truck engine revved. Tires squealed. Tracy rolled off Dan, grabbed the Glock from her purse, flung open the front door, and raced across the lawn. The vehicle had sped to the end of the block, too far for her to catch, too far for her to see a license plate. When it slowed to take the turn, however, she noticed that only the right brake light lit up.

When she rushed back into the house, Dan was on his knees with towels, frantically trying to staunch Rex’s bleeding as the big dog’s fur matted with blood.





[page]CHAPTER 39





Tracy lowered the tailgate on Dan’s Tahoe while speaking into her cell phone. “This is Detective Tracy Crosswhite, Seattle Homicide,” she said out of habit. Dan slid Rex into the back and handed Tracy the keys. He climbed in with the dog. “I’m reporting a shooting in the six hundred block of Elmwood Avenue in Cedar Grove. Requesting all available units in the area to respond.”

Tracy slammed shut the tailgate and slid into the cab. “Suspect vehicle is likely a truck headed east on Cedar Hollow toward the county road.” She backed quickly down the driveway, bouncing into the street, tires squealing. “Vehicle’s left rear taillight is out.” She removed the phone from her ear and shouted to Dan. “Where am I going?”

“Pine Flat.”

She tossed her phone on the passenger seat and punched the accelerator. Sherlock whined and whimpered. In the rearview mirror Tracy could see him peering over the back seat at his fallen buddy. Dan continued applying pressure to Rex’s wounds, his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and jaw as he carried on his own conversation with the veterinary clinic.