“There was no car. Nobody around, but your sister seemed to think someone was after her.”
I grasped the back of the stool hard enough that my fingernails pushed into the wood. “She was…alive?” It never occurred to me that Sybil had been found alive. The idea made me sick to my stomach.
Decker came back around the counter. “God, I’m sorry. I just dropped that on you. Come with me,” he said, taking my hand and leading me over to the sofa.
I started to sit on the end, but he led me to the middle, sat on the coffee table in front of me, and took both my hands in his.
“What I’m about to tell you won’t be easy to hear, especially today.”
“Go ahead,” I whispered, my eyes locked on his.
“Your sister believed someone was trying to kill her.”
My eyes filled with tears. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I asked who, but she wasn’t able to tell me.”
“Because she died?”
“Yes. She lost consciousness, and then she died.”
I tried to pull my hands away, but Decker held them tight.
“I know the medical examiner said he needed to wait for the autopsy results to tell you the cause of death, but your sister died from a gunshot wound.”
“Oh my God!” I gasped. “Why would anyone want to kill Sybil?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
I closed my eyes and thought back to the last time I was with my sister and how I’d felt as though something was wrong.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I had a bad feeling.”
“When?”
“Yesterday. Last night. Before I got the call.”
“Why were you worried about her?”
I shook my head. “I said I had a bad feeling.”
“Again, why?”
I didn’t have a reason, I just felt it. “I can’t explain it. Call it intuition.”
“It wasn’t based on anything?”
I put my hand on my abdomen. “Do you ever get a feeling right here, in the pit of your stomach? Something so powerful that it feels like you’ve ingested a boulder?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Then you know what I’m talking about. It doesn’t have to be based on anything.”
7
Decker