The Sinner - Molly O'Keefe Page 0,8
beignets onto the faded upholstery.
Margot stood beside a frayed velveteen couch, her hand gripping Savannah’s shoulder.
Savannah sat holding a little girl as if her whole life depended on it, the child’s red head buried in Savannah’s neck.
I rocked to a stop in the doorway.
A little girl?
How had I missed that in my research? Why hadn’t Savannah told me when I asked who else lived in the house?
It shouldn’t change anything, but it did.
Seeing Savannah with a little girl clinging to her neck as if any moment she might be torn away opened up a giant hole in my chest.
I remembered holding on to my father’s neck the same way. And suddenly I didn’t want to witness Savannah being led away in chains, not if it meant the girl had to witness it, too.
“I don’t think it was high-schoolers,” Savannah said, staring daggers at the two cops with poor eating habits. “They’ve never tried to break into the house before.”
“Well,” one of the cops said, readjusting his girth in the small chair. “It was only a matter of time before some kid got bold enough to try it.”
“I’m sure it’s another prank,” the thin cop said.
“A prank!” Savannah nearly yelled. “You guys have looked the other way for years, and we’ve accepted that as part of the price of living here and being an O’Neill. But someone tried to break into my daughter’s room. It’s the hardest room to get to from the outside and it’s not even accessible from the back courtyard.”
The rage and fear in Savannah’s eyes were hot enough to bend steel.
“We’ve dusted for prints and we’ll see what it turns up,” Thin Cop said.
“And then?” Savannah asked, practically spitting fire. And I got it, these men were not taking her seriously; their disdain was practically written on the walls. Suddenly, Margot’s comment about the O’Neills being a target around here took on painful ramifications.
“And then, if possible, we’ll make some arrests,” Thin Cop said.
“And what will you be doing in the meantime? To help protect us as citizens of Bonne Terre? Which, I can’t believe I need to remind you, is your job.”
“Look, if you want a man out front, you’re going to have to take that up with Chief Tremblant—”
“Which I will,” Savannah said, standing with the little girl clinging to her like a monkey. “Now, I’d—”
“We’d like to thank you gentlemen for your hard work.” Margot stepped in, like a gracious host or a bomb expert.
“You know,” Fat Cop said, his beady eyes glued to Savannah as if she were the one guilty of breaking into her daughter’s room, “word in town is you’ve hired some stranger to do work around here.”
I opened my mouth, but Savannah was there before me. “What are you getting at, Officer Jones?”
“If you don’t want trouble, don’t ask for it.” His tone oozed a sexual patronization that made me want to put my fist in the big man’s face. “Seems to me you O’Neills have had a hard time learning that lesson. Maybe that’s why we’re not bending over to make sure y’all are safe and sound. You could take better care your damn selves.”
I stepped out of the shadowed doorway.
“I’m not here to hurt these women,” I said and all eyes swung to me. What I said, of course, wasn’t totally true, but I was living in the dark edges between truth and perception. But I wasn’t here to hurt them like this—scaring children and mothers in the middle of the night.
“Then you’ll have no problem telling me your whereabouts last night,” Fat Cop said.
“Room 3 at the Bonne Terre Inn. All night.”
“Any witnesses to that fact?”
“I ordered a pizza at midnight.”
“Break-in was at two.”
“I took my box out to the garbage around that time. I waved to Mrs. Adams at the front desk.” I put my fists on my hips to keep them from going to work on the guy’s smug grin. “I’m not here to hurt anyone,” I reiterated, glancing sideways at Savannah to see if she got the message.
She stared at me, her eyes thick blue wells of anger and worry. For a moment, a millisecond, I saw the girlfriend of the man—boy, really—who’d died in the accident, whose blood was all over my hands.
The room dipped around me. Time collapsed and the point-seven seconds nearly got me.
Point-seven seconds was all it took for a building to come down. For a mistake to be made and a young man to die. Point-seven seconds. It was