Page 8 of Into These Eyes
“Go on, you two,” Dad reminds me. “And stop revving her up, Jamie. She’ll never get to sleep at this rate.”
To my utter shock, once I’ve got her in bed, her long lashes—which I’m forever jealous of—flutter closed. As I lie beside her and watch her drift off, I wonder if Dad will bother coming up to kiss her goodnight.
After ten minutes, I give up on that stupid idea, carefully slip from her bed and head downstairs.
When I join Dad on the couch and see he’s watching a boring documentary, I get started on my latest reading assignment for school while I wait for Mum to get home.
The doorbell rings.
I stare at Dad and he stares right back, a frown on his face. “Why’s your mother ringing the doorbell?”
I shrug. He’s right. She should’ve pulled her car into the garage and come in that way. Tossing my book on the couch, I get up and hurry into the foyer.
Grinning, I swing the door wide.
And freeze.
Two police officers stand on the other side of the locked security door. One male. One female.
My heart takes off like a rocket. Before I regain the ability to speak, Dad’s behind me, resting his hand on my shoulder.
“Are you Brian Evans?” the male officer asks.
“That’s me. What’s the problem?”
Both officers’ eyes swing my way, then return to Dad.
“Do you mind if we come in?” the female asks.
Dad moves me aside, but he doesn’t release my shoulder as he unlocks the security door. The policewoman removes her hat as she steps inside, her partner following her lead.
As Dad’s hand tightens on my shoulder, my heart doesn’t know whether to beat harder or stop altogether. By the look in the officers’ eyes, devastation is about to hit my little family.
“Jesus,” Dad says, his voice filled with anguish. “Please don’t tell me she’s been in a car accident.”
“Mr. Evans, is your wife Matilda Evans?” the male officer asks.
“Yes,” Dad croaks.
Both sets of eyes snap to me. “Maybe we should talk in private?” the woman suggests.
“Mum …” I whisper, my throat slamming shut as Dad’s grip on me grows tighter.
“Just tell us,” Dad insists.
“Mr. Evans, we’re sorry to inform you that your wife Matilda has been killed.”
Silence engulfs us all before Dad shakes his head. “No. No, you’ve got it wrong,” he reasons. “She’s out. With her friends. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Evans. She was murdered earlier tonight.”
“Murdered?” Dad gasps.
The world spins. My knees buckle, slamming painfully into the tiled floor. Dad kneels beside me, crushing me to his chest as I try to draw in air as thick as oil. I think I’m drowning. Drowning on words I desperately didn’t and don’t want to hear.
“How?” Dad cries, his voice vibrating against my ear along with the thunderous beat of his heart.
“She was stabbed. We have the suspect in custody.”
