Page 62 of Cut Off from Sky and Earth
“Just do it already, Dunn,” my boss says.
“Tristan Rose, you’re under arrest for the murder of Tate Weakes and Giselle Ward. You have—” The detective’s winding up to read me my rights when he interrupts himself and turns to Graham. “Should we add Dana Rowland?”
“Better run it by the DA.”
My brain takes a minute to catch up with the words. When it does, I panic. “No. This is a mistake.”
“Tristan, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“I didn’t kill anyone.” My voice goes high.
“Your gym bag was lying beside him.”
“No, see, that’s not possible. My gym bag’s in my car. Come on, I’ll show you in the garage,” I babble.
My law enforcement training is screaming at me. I know better than to invite the authorities into my home or to volunteer any information. I know I need to lawyer up. And yet, I honestly believe I can explain this away. Graham knows me. He likes me.
Dunn shrugs. “Fine. I’m gonna have to cuff you, though, Tristan. You understand.”
As a point of procedure, I should already be handcuffed if they’re arresting me.
Still, it seems ludicrous. But I’m eager to appear reasonable, so I extend my wrists obediently. He gestures toward the patrol cars, and the pair of uniformed officers from the lead car exits their vehicle and joins the unhappy little gathering on my front stoop. Dunn slaps the cuffs on me and keeps a hand on my arm as I lead the group through the house to the garage.
Graham opens the door and I instruct them where to find the bag. My boss and the detective flank me, while the officers pop the trunk and search my car.
“There’s no bag here, sir,” the female officer says as she slams the trunk shut.
“It has to be there. I haven’t taken it out since ….” I try to remember.
“Since when?” Dunn asks.
Since my appointment with Dr. Wilde, I think.
Instead I say, “I want an attorney.”
“That’s a good idea because you didn’t ask us what we found in the bag.”
I already know what they found—my gym clothes and a tablet wrapped in a towel. No big deal. I shrug.
Graham shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be quite so cavalier if I were you. We’re probably going to be able to match that knife to Giselle Ward’s wounds as well as your brother’s.”
A knife?
My knees buckle. Detective Dunn grabs me before I hit the cement floor.
Over the years I’ve feared, pitied, and hated my brother. I suppose at one point, when I was very young, I might even have loved him. But now I realize I’ve underestimated him.
Tate has outplayed me with a final master stroke. He’s set me up for the murders he’s committed, killed himself, and set me up for murdering him, too. I’m trapped.
Part III. Escape from the Tower
She took the bread-knife, and picked and bored at the mortar of a stone, and when she was tired, the waiting-maid took her turn. With great labour they succeeded in getting out one stone, and then a second, and a third, and when three days were over the first ray of light fell on their darkness[.]
—Maid Maleen, as retold by the Brothers Grimm
* * *
Ruth and Maleen exchanged a long, knowing look. All their patience, all their waiting and acquiescing, and all their prayers had done nothing. It had only condemned them to a certain death.
