Kitchen Boss

“I believe there is a Cathy Jeffries living here,” Sgt. Watts says.

Cathy?

“She’s not here at the moment,” I tell him. “May I ask why you’re looking for her, though? Is this about Trisha Holloway’s death?”

They don’t answer.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “If this is about my sister, I deserve to know.”

The two officers from Staggart look at each other, then nod.

“Yes,” Officer McMillan says. “It’s about your sister.”

“And what do you want with Cathy?” I ask.

“We have papers from the prosecutor’s office,” he answers. “Ms. Jeffries is being summoned to court to answer to the charge filed against her.”

“What charge?”

Officer McMillan draws a deep breath. “The slaying of Trisha Holloway.”

Chapter 17

Cathy

I killed Trisha.

The thought goes through my head over and over as I gaze out the window of the hotel room.

I’ve had a feeling I did ever since I had that nightmare. Even so, I didn’t want to believe it. That’s why I felt so torn.

Now, though, I have no choice. Someone else thinks I killed Trisha. According to the papers from the prosecutor’s office, a new witness has come forward saying that I did. And now, I have to prove my innocence.

The problem is, I don’t know if I can.

I gaze down at my lap, cross my arms over my chest and clutch my shirt. What if I really killed Trisha?

“Cathy?” My mom sits up on the bed and rubs her eyes. “What are you doing out of bed? It’s…”

She glances at the clock on the bedside table.

“…just past one in the morning.”

I don’t answer. I just pull my knees against my chest and wrap my arms around them.

I didn’t want to bother my mom. The last thing I wanted was to cause her more trouble. I didn’t have a choice, though. I knew I needed a lawyer to tell me what to do, and the only lawyer I knew was Mom’s friend Gina. I had no choice but to call her and tell her what happened. Hours later, she appeared at my side.

Now, it’s her and me again here in this hotel room in Milwaukee, two hours away from Staggart.

Just her and me against the world. Again.

“What’s the matter?” She walks over to me after tying her robe around her waist and strokes my hair. “What are you thinking of, baby?”

I throw my gaze past the window once more. The leaves of the trees rustle in the breeze.

“Gina sent papers to the prosecutor’s office, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Saying I’m innocent?”

“Yes.”

I hug my knees a little tighter and bury my chin between them. “But what if I’m not?”

My mom kneels in front of me and grabs my ankles. “Sweetheart, what are you saying?”

“I remembered something from that night,” I tell her. “All this time, I’ve been wondering how I could have drowned when I always thought I was a good swimmer. Now, I understand.”

“What did you remember?”

I pat my leg. “I had a cramp.”

My mom rubs my leg. “Well, it happens to the best of swimmers. It’s hardly your fault, is it? And it definitely doesn’t mean you’re responsible for Trisha’s death.”

I get out of the chair and start pacing the room. “But what if she tried to save me and that’s why she drowned? I remember something else, too, you know. I remember seeing Trisha on the shore. What if I was the only one swimming and then I got a cramp so she had to come into the water and save me?”

“Fine. Let’s say that’s what happened. That still doesn’t mean you’re responsible for her death.”

“But don’t you see? It means that she drowned because of me.”

My mom shakes her head. “No.”

“It’s possible, Mom.”

“No.”

“It could very well be what happened.”

“Or not.” She grabs my hand. “Maybe you had a cramp but it lasted only a minute and you were able to go back to shore.”

“Then why did I almost drown?”

She shrugs. “Maybe Trisha chose to go swimming after you and she started drowning and you tried to save her but you couldn’t?”

I fall silent. If that’s the case and I couldn’t save her, doesn’t that still mean I’m responsible for her death?

“Or maybe you and Trisha were both in the water. She started drowning. You tried to help her but you got a cramp. You went under water but then your cramp went away and you were able to get to shore but she didn’t. At least, that’s what I’ve been thinking.”

It is?

“But I remember seeing Trisha standing on the shore,” I point out.

“Maybe you went into the water ahead of her,” my mom says with a shrug. “But she followed you moments later.”

“Because I asked her to.”

“Or maybe you went into the water out of curiosity, you got out because you decided it wasn’t a good idea to swim in a lake at night, but then Trisha dragged you back in. That sounds more like her. I mean, she was always the daring one, wasn’t she? Wasn’t she always the one dragging you along and you were the one pulling her back?”