Hold On (The 'Burg #6)(136)

And pictures with the woman sitting dead in a pool of her own blood in a compact car at the curb.

Garrett took in the woman pacing. She was still in her pajamas. The family resemblance was unmistakable. Dark hair. Curves. Olive skin. Fine features. But definitely older, at least by a decade. Wendy Derian appeared to be in her late twenties; this woman was in her late thirties or even having hit her forties, and she took care of herself like she did her house.

She didn’t stop pacing when they hit the room.

She also didn’t stop muttering. “Knew it. Fuckin’ knew it. Knew it with that dickhead. That dickhead douchebag. That dickhead douchebag * loser. Fuckin’ knew it.”

She might know whatever it was she was muttering about, but she had no clue Garrett and Mike had joined her and Ellen, that was how far she was in her head.

And her anger.

Which meant the grief hadn’t hit her yet.

This was unusual. It had to have been over an hour since she called it in. Grief was mighty. It typically powered through the initial anger easily…and quickly.

This was also good. It was difficult to get statements from sobbing, hysterical people.

Angry people let it all hang out.

Garrett looked to Mike to see Mike’s eyes on him.

“Ms. Derian,” Ellen called. The woman jerked to a halt and turned narrowed, pissed off eyes on Ellen. “This is Lieutenant Garrett Merrick and Lieutenant Mike Haines of the Brownsburg Police Department. They’re here to ask a few questions about this morning.” Ellen turned to Garrett and Mike. “This is Marscha Derian.”

“Thanks, Ellen,” Mike muttered.

Garrett caught Marscha Derian’s dark brown eyes, held them, and communicated with his own.

So when he said unemotionally, “We’re sorry for your loss,” even though it didn’t sound it, she might understand he meant it.

“Yeah,” she spat. “Me too.”

She didn’t understand he meant it. Nothing was penetrating her rage.

“Would you like to sit down? Get a cup of coffee? If you don’t have a pot going, we can make one,” Mike offered.

“No, ’cause, see, got three brothers, another sister, and my mom and dad, which means I got a shit-ton of calls to make today and I’m not lookin’ forward to any of ’em,” she bit out. “So I just wanna get this done and want you to get that shit,” she tossed a hand toward her front window, “outta here.”

That shit.

Nope, the grief hadn’t hit her yet.

Either that or she and her sister weren’t the best of friends.

Garrett and Mike exchanged another look, then both of them pulled out their notepads and pens.

“Okay, then, Ms. Derian, we’ll get to it,” Garrett started, flipping his open. “Officer Fink says you called it in. Did you—”

“Heard the gunshots but didn’t know what I was hearin’,” she cut him off to declare. “Never heard nothin’ like that. Was sleepin’, it woke me up, and I just laid there. Just f*ckin’ laid there, wonderin’ what the f*ck that was.” She shook her head. “Nothin’ happens around here anymore. Only got four neighbors left on this street, so things are quiet. Couldn’t figure out what that noise was. So I just laid there.”

Garrett and Mike didn’t move even as her last declaration made her face change, her entire demeanor change.

Anger leaking out.

Shock coming in.

This would be followed by the pain.

“You here alone, Ms. Derian?” Garrett asked quietly.

She shook her head sharply like she was shaking herself into shape, and she focused on Garrett. “Yeah.”

“You give Ellen a name of someone she can call so you got someone you trust close?” Garrett asked.

“I’m good,” she declared.

Mike entered the conversation. “Please give Ellen a name of someone she can call so you got someone close.”

Marscha Derian sucked her lower lip between her teeth and bit it.

Then she looked at Ellen, who was hanging back, and gave her the name and number of someone to call.

Ellen took notes, and the minute Marscha was done talking, she stepped out of the room.

“You heard the gunshots,” Garrett prompted quietly.

“Shoulda known,” Marscha declared.

“Known what?” Mike asked.

She looked to Mike. “Wendy, she likes the bad boys. Always did. Got suspended from high school twice because of shit her boyfriends were into. And yeah, I said boyfriendzzzzz.” She emphasized the z’s as well as her statement even though neither Garrett nor Mike questioned it. “Went from one loser to another. Not only never learned, they just got worse.”

“Are you saying you’re aware that your sister was associating with someone you considered dangerous?” Mike asked.

“Uh…yeah,” she answered with heavy sarcasm. “She was associatin’ with a lot of f*ckwits that I considered dangerous. So did my brothers. My other sister. Our mom and dad. All her decent friends. And by associatin’, I mean suckin’ their dicks and takin’ their shit.”

Christ.

“Maybe we should get to the gunshots you heard. Then we’ll move on to the people Wendy spent time with,” Garrett suggested.