We’re walking away from the barn so fast that I’m straining to catch my breath. Our footsteps and my heavy breathing sound out of place in the stillness around us. T.J. sticks out his arm like a school-patrol fifth grader and stops me cold. “Wait,” he whispers, looking both ways before letting us cross the open barnyard. “Okay. Now!” We tiptoe-trot, zigzagging like we’re dodging gunfire again. When we slow down, camouflaged by the tree-branch shadows, I ask him again. “Tell me! Why would Coach give Rita so much money?” “I don’t know, Hope. You said Jeremy was a great stable hand.” “Not that great! Nobody’s that great.” A dozen possible reasons for those checks fly through my head, none of them good. Was Rita having an affair with Coach Johnson? Her Jay Jay? She’d been staying out all night. Even the night before Coach’s murder, Rita hadn’t come home until after dawn. T.J. takes my hand. “Don’t turn around, but we’re being watched.” Immediately, I imagine that white pickup truck.
What do You think about The Silence Of Murder (2011)?
