Free Cry For Tomorrow by Dianna Hunter

the hand gripping my arm.
    “Hey! Easy there, dog, I’m not going to hurt her,” said the officer as he quickly withdrew his hand and took a step back.
    “Th-the people who live here—” I gasped in near hysteria, “where are they? Are they okay?” I was going to be sick. I tried to dodge around him, but he boldly ignored the growling dog and stepped in front of me.
    “Hey! O’Brian, what are ya’ doin ’? Let that girl go,” barked the grey-haired man that was suddenly standing at the top of the porch steps.
    “Thanks,” I managed to gasp as I took the steps two at a time. “Do you have any idea what happened?” I leaned from one side to the other but I couldn’t see into the deep shadows filling the open doorway or past the bulk of the large man in the rumbled suit.
    When I tried to step around him, he put a firm but gentle hand on my arm to keep me from entering the house. “Just a minute now, young lady, how about you tell me who you are before you go charging in there?”
    I could only stare at him, too terrified to even form words.
    Smiling sympathetically, the man led me to one side of the porch.
    “Okay, kid, first of all, let me introduce myself. I’m Lieutenant Brodsky, but my friends call me Ski, and I was kinda hoping you might be able to help me out here.” His gaze wandered over my frightened face and the tone of his voice said he understood my fear. “Now, let’s just take a minute here and find out who you are and what your relationship is to these folks, okay?”
    I was suddenly afraid of actually facing what might be waiting for me inside. My knees sort of crumbled and I was sitting on the old white wicker swing but my eyes were still locked on that dark doorway. I just couldn’t seem to focus them so well right now, guess it was the tears leaking from them blurring my vision.
    I finally stopped trying to avoid him and stared up into the man’s concerned face. “Are th-they all d-dead?” I finally managed to get the words past my frozen lips. “Oh God, they are, aren’t they?” I sobbed.
    The lieutenant lowered his eyes and sadly nodded his head. Taking one of my hands in his big paw, he patted it gently with his other hand. “Now, why don’t we start by you tellin’ me your name?”
    “I-I’m Halie Weston. M-my friends Rosa and Jack live here. There were six or seven kids living here too, kids they rescued from the s-streets,” I sniffled, “an-and my s-sister, Kelly, was here too.”
    “I see,” said the man softly. “Halie, do you know anyone that might want to hurt your friends?”
    “N-no,” I couldn’t stand not knowing another minute. “Oh Gods, is Kelly d-dead, too?” I sobbed. Slipping my hand from the man’s grasp, I ran for the door. I easily ducked past the fat, sluggish police officer trying to keep me from entering. I didn’t stop until I was standing in the middle of the big living area.
    It was difficult to remember the charming, homey room that had always been filled with sunshine, the smell of fresh baked goods and laughter. Now the room looked more like a slaughter house. Staggered by the sight, I grabbed hold of the back of a big, over-stuffed chair that I had once helped Rosa re-upholster and stared around the room. There was something sticky under my hand but I didn’t dare to look down. It could just be spilled jam, couldn’t it? begged my terrified mind, but the thick black stains spattered across the walls and floors screamed no!
    Of their own volition, my stiff legs carried me across the room to stand over one of the sheet-covered forms scattered about the room.
    “Damn!” growled the lieutenant. He cast a withering look at the officer that had let me pass before lurching into the room behind me. “You shouldn’t have come in here.” He put a hand on my arm and tried to lead me away but I jerked it away from him.
    “ No! I have to know!” I slowly bent and grabbed one corner of the sheet and raised it.
    “This is Lanie,” I