Greg offered me a ride to the clinic in town; I refused. I had a few scrapes. I’d live. I just wanted to get out of there. The scene was chaos. It wasn’t every day something blew up in New Bergin. That it had blown up after yet another murder … Like I said, chaos. I wouldn’t be able to escape questioning indefinitely, but for now I took the opportunity and ran with it. Jenn was more hysterical than I’d ever seen her—hysteria gave her hives—and that was before a piece of Mrs. Noita fell out of a tree. My father arrived on the scene right after Mrs. Noita’s arm. His gaze went to the house, before scanning the crowd. When it reached me, his lips tightened and he strode over. I wanted to apologize; I always did. That incessant need to please and appease. He let out a sigh that sounded more like a huff, then ran his finger down my cheek. Not a caress, more of an indictment. His finger came away black. I had been a little close to the action. “Not a scratch on me,” I said brightly.
