8

For the first time ever, Anita felt pity for what Christopher must have endured growing up. She never liked him when he was alive because of the way he'd treated her friend, Vanessa. Now, as she stared at his parents, she could understand how he turned out to be the kind of man he was. 

“You know, she's grieving too,” Anita continued. “They might not have been together when he died, but she's grieving too and she could use all the family love and support right now… Just the way you need it too,"

At her words, Lois's tears dried up and her expression went from devastated to furious. “Who do you think you are, attempting to lecture us on personal family matters? It’s none of your business what we do or don’t do.”

Since she was right, Anita shut her mouth and turned to go. Just as she reached the exit, Steven spoke, shocking her.

“She never loved our son, and I'm sure she's glad he's out of her way now. She can go on to be with her numerous lovers. She might even have a hand in his death… I can't wait for the police to be done with their investigation and If she has something to hide, I hope they find out soon enough.”

—-----------

Vanessa fell asleep with the lights still on. She woke up several hours later, feeling gritty and groggy and confused.

The clock on the nightstand read 3:18 a.m. The deep of the night, the precursor to dawn.

She felt restless. Tormented. Confused. Christopher was dead and she honestly couldn’t mourn his loss, though she felt sorrow because he’d lost his life in a senseless act of violence.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she tugged down her long T-shirt and then, just in case, grabbed a pair of running shorts and stepped into them. 

Slipping on some flip-flops, she padded down the hall. She went downstairs. The absolute silence of the house, broken only by the muted sound of the refrigerator running, soothed her. She got a glass of water from the door in the fridge and carried it outside onto the back patio.

The motion sensor lights flicked on. She walked in and closed the door behind her. She sat down, staring straight ahead and sipping her water. She’d come out here hoping to gather her mind, but it was still a mess.

Christopher was gone. Though she had absolutely nothing to do with his murder, she couldn’t suppress a sliver of guilt. Their marriage had long been over, a union in name only, and she’d spent a fair amount of time daydreaming about what her life would be like without him in it. Blinking, she pulled herself out of her thoughts and forced herself to focus on right here and right now. 

 Stifling a yawn with her hand, she realized that coming out of her room had been a mistake. She still couldn’t think about anything other than Christopher's murder. She glanced toward the back door. She decided to go back to bed. As she pushed to her feet, she heard a sharp crack, like a car backfiring. Before she could breathe, she heard another, and then realized to her horror, that it was a gunshot. Immediately, she slammed herself onto the ground.

Before she could think straight, she heard several more shots in rapid succession. Behind her, the wall of windows in the breakfast room imploded. Panic clawed at her. She needed to get inside but she knew that whoever was shooting was still out there. If she got up, she'd only make too easy of a target, so she remained where she was. 

In the distance, she heard a siren. Someone must have called the police. She prayed Anita would stay inside and the Wesley's too. As the siren drew closer, tires squealed on pavement and a vehicle raced away.

It was safe now, she thought, but she was so scared to move. The back door opened and Steven Wesley stuck his head out. “What’s going on out here?” he demanded. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Vanessa on the pavement.

“Get inside,” Vanessa ordered. “Now. And turn off the lights. Those were gunshots.”

The older man stepped back inside and closed the door. Crouched over double, she rushed toward the door and yanked it open. Glass crunched underfoot as she hurried through the kitchen area, heading for the stairs. 

On the way there, she encountered Lois Wesley, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She wore a fuzzy white bathrobe that must have been overly warm, though she didn’t appear uncomfortable.

“What’s going on?” Lois asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Someone shot up the back of the house,” Vanessa told her as she ran for the stairs. “I’m going to check on Anita.”

She took the stairs two at a time. At the top, she forced herself to slow down and try to breathe. If the noise hadn’t woken Anita, she didn’t want to alarm her with her own panic. Unbelievably, she hadn’t been awakened. Which was sort of a relief. The fewer people she had to deal with right now, the better.

Back downstairs, she found her in-laws huddled together in the kitchen in the dark, still taking care to stay away from any windows.

“Did you call 911?” Steven demanded, his voice shaky.

“No I didn't, but— they are here. I think we can turn on the lights now. Be careful around the broken glass.”

Vanessa went to meet the police. Until now, adrenaline had kept her moving. With that gone, terror had set in and she’d started shaking so hard her teeth chattered. Even worse, she wasn’t sure how to stop.

“Deep breaths,” she told herself, trying to stay steady. “You’ll get through this. Just make the report and then start cleaning things up.”

She didn't speak out loud as she was afraid of what she might sound like if she spoke. As she headed toward the front, one of the officers rang the bell.

Once she’d opened the door, she invited them in. She led them through the house, realizing for the first time she wore only a T-shirt and shorts, with no bra or underwear. She showed them the broken windows and then she reported on what had happened while she was outside on the back patio.