Stalk Her

Pulling out a rag to rub any places I’ve touched before tossing it into the wilderness, I jump back in and drive back to Alice’s, leaving the car the way I found it.

I fight the urge to creep back inside, instead walking down to my own car parked a mile down the street and drive to Ebony’s.

I’m starving.

I hope she has leftovers in the fridge.

Once I get through Ebony’s cold lasagna, I flick on her laptop and log in to my new email address and see a message from Alice.

Dear Ebony,

It’s nice to know I’m not alone in the world.

Sometimes it feels that way.

Alice.

She took the bait.

You are far from alone, little bird

The ringing of the house phone jars me from a deep slumber on Ebony’s ratty couch.

It smells of man sweat and beer farts.

No doubt from Richard passing out on it all the time.

I’ll have a new one delivered.

She won’t need the reminder of him lingering.

“Eb, get the fucking phone,” I groan, checking my cell and sneering when the time reads five fifteen.

“What the fuck?” I moan, pulling a cushion over my head.

A rapping at the front door followed by a ringing of the doorbell causes me to sit upright.

Memories of only a few hours ago flood my mind.

The house phone finally shuts up, and I hear the shuffling of my sister coming down the stairs.

“What the hell?” she gasps.

Getting to my feet I follow her to the door where a silhouette of two police officers shows through the pane of glass.

Opening the door, Ebony is already holding a hand to her chest, her eyes wide and frown lines tugging down her brow.

“What is it?” she murmurs on a shaky breath.

They look between the two of us and my state of undress.

I stripped down to my boxers before crashing.

“Mrs. Bell?” one asks in a judgmental tone.

“Yes,” she says, and once again, they look between us.

“I’m her brother, what’s going on?” I ask, and their expression changes as they remove their hats.

“I’m very sorry to inform you ma’am, there was an accident on route fifty six.”

“Richard?” she asks, almost in a defeated tone.

“Mr. Bell was in a hit and run accident. He was struck while working on the road, and I’m sorry but he was pronounced dead at the scene.”

Her body goes limp, and I catch her before her knees hit the floor.

Sobs retch from her throat as she clings to me, burrowing her face against my chest.

“We will need someone to make a formal ID of the body,” they inform us, causing Ebony to cry harder.

“A hit and run?” I ask and receive a nod in confirmation.

“Yes sir, it appears to be a criminal matter. Sometimes a person can panic in the moment, adrenaline kicks in. A lot of the time people turn themselves in.”

“And if they don’t?” I bark, anger lacing my tone for effect.

“Then we will put in every effort to find the person responsible and bring them to justice.”

Lifting Ebony to her feet, I wrap an arm around her and guide her inside.

I place her on the couch and put a blanket around her shoulders before going back to the front door to find the officers looking over the cars parked in the driveway.

“Is this your car?”

“Yes, why?”

“It’s a nice car, sir. Do you live here with your sister?”

He’s looking at the hundred thousand dollar sports car I went home to get for this very reason.

No way that car could have caused the damage to Richard and not have a scratch on it.

“No, I’m having a little disagreement with my fiancée right now,” I shrug. “I didn’t want to get my ear chewed off, so I crashed here.”

Smiling a knowing grin up at me, the officer asking the questions salutes me.

“I hear you, believe me. I wish there was a place I could go to escape my wife sometimes,” he grunts.

“I’ll let her know you said that,” his partner threatens, and they chuckle together.

“If that’s all officers, my sister has just been given the worst news anyone could receive.”

This gets their attention.

They might deal with this stuff everyday, but it’s unprofessional of them to be making fucking jokes about their spouses after the news they just delivered.

“Of course, we’re sorry for your loss. Please bring your sister down to the coroner’s office sometime today to make a formal identification.”

With that they get back in their cruiser, and I find my sister inside.

Her sobs have abated, but there’s tears streaking her face and a wobble of her lip.

“He didn’t deserve to die like that,” she sniffles. “How could someone just leave him in the road to die?”

“I’m sorry,” I offer as sincere as I can manage.

“You hated him,” she snaps.

“That’s not true. I hated that he put his hands on you, there’s a difference.”

She wipes her hands down her face and swallows.