Free Gone to Ground by Brandilyn Collins

he kill the first five women? They never did anything bad to him.
    By 3:00 I was beatin myself up for ever thinkin such awful things about my brother.
    Four o'clock and I was back to the bloody uniform. Stevie's obvious lies. Erika's time of death.
    Who had been with her the night she died? I had to convince Trent to tell me.
    Trent. How was I supposed to tell him I didn't want to go to New York? I'd break his heart.
    On the other hand runnin away right now seemed mighty temptin. I could leave this mess behind. Start over. Work in a fancy New York salon.
    By the time I stumbled from bed, I knew I had to make Stevie talk to me. What had he done with that bloody uniform? What if he washed it, and the blood didn't all come out? It was evidence just waitin for the cops to find.
    But what if he was guilty? I couldn't protect a killer. Besides, if I messed with evidence, I could get in serious trouble.
    I took a shower and got dressed. Drank a bunch of coffee to fry my already fried nerves. A half hour before I had to open the salon I strode to Stevie's trailer. His threat echoed in my head.
    "I'll hurt you. Real bad."
    This was crazy. I should just leave this alone.
    At his door I hesitated, then knocked hard and long, the metal clangin beneath my fist.
    No response.
    Give it up, Deena.
    I walked down the trailer to my brother's bedroom window and rapped on the glass. "Stevie, get outta bed! I need to see you."
    Still nothin. I banged again. "Stevie!"
    A growl drifted from inside. "Go away, Deena!"
    "I'm not goin away. I want to make sure you're all right."
    "I'm fine."
    Sure he was. All bloody Tuesday night, with Erika killed as early as 11:00.
    "Stevie, if you don't let me in, I swear I'll bust your door down!"
    "You do and you'll be sorry."
    I leaned against the trailer. " Why are you actin like this?"
    "Go away, Deena." His voice hardened. "I mean it."
    "I have to talk to you, and I don't want any neighbors to hear." I threw a glance to either side. On my right was the Fredericks' house. Gary would be at work, but Betty stayed home with a two-year-old. Did she have a window open? On the left sat the Dragers' little place. They were a young couple, both workin. Probably gone by now.
    "Stevie, open the door!"
    " No !"
    My head lowered. I rubbed between my eyes, starting to cry. Dear Lord, how can this be happenin?
    I cupped my mouth against my brother's window. "Stevie, you have to tell me what happened Tuesday night."
    No answer.
    "Stevie!"
    "Deena, I'm warnin you." His words seethed. "Go. A way ."
    The hairs on my arms raised. I pulled back from the window. He was just actin like this because he was scared. Hadn't I seen him do that enough as a child?
    I leaned in once more. "The cops'll come after you. Then what?"
    "Why should they?"
    "You know why."
    "You gonna tell em?" The words spat like fire. "Huh, Deena?"
    "No."
    "Do I need to come out and make sure you won't?"
    My heart dropped. I turned away. What was that you said about New York, Trent?
    Gazin down the street, I fixed on the cemetery. I pictured my brother stumblin through it in the dark, tryin to wash off blood in Turtle Creek. He often cut through the graveyard and down the stone steps on the other side to go to work. Quickest way to the factory, which sat a third of a mile beyond. But he never walked through that unlit place at night.
    What if he'd dropped some piece of evidence near the creek?
    Hurryin back up the road, I jumped in my car and drove around the block to the rear of the cemetery. Parked near the stone steps and trotted up to the top of the knoll. The sun was already warm and not a breeze to be found. My body heated up, sweat at the back of my neck.
    Straight ahead were all the graves. Turtle Creek splashed to my right. I swished through the grass toward it, eyes riveted on the water.
    Along the bank weeds were pressed down, as if someone had stomped through. I stared at them. What Monday of the month was comin up?
    The fourth.
    Church volunteer