Free Stand Your Ground: A Novel by Victoria Christopher Murray Page A

something that you, me, and Charles have in common.”
    He turned around and walked out, leaving me alone with that zinger ringing in my ears.
    Damn!
    My son had just been murdered and now I had to deal with this? There was no way I would be able to handle it.
    No way.

Chapter 7
    I was in this never-ending state of inertia. The clock ticked, but time didn’t move. My days became known by numbers and today was day three. The third full day of my life without Marquis.
    But then I rolled over in my bed and felt the cool sheets. In my mind, I changed the number of this day. Now this became day two. The second morning that I woke up without Tyrone in the bed next to me.
    I pushed myself up and once again wondered—where was my husband? Had another night passed when I’d slept alone? It wasn’t until I was sitting all the way up that I noticed a piece of paper peeking out from beneath his pillow.
    Babe: I’m at Raj’s house. We’re working on a few things. Mama’s there with you. And I left the car. Call me the moment you wake up. Love you, babe. Need you. Call me.
    “Love you, babe,” I whispered as I folded the paper in half. “Need you, too.”
    My husband’s concern showed all through the note. He cared so much that he didn’t want me to be alone. But he didn’t care enough to be the one here with me.
    Reaching over to the nightstand, I picked up my cell phone.I scrolled, then clicked, then asked, “May I speak to Detective Ferguson, please,” when the phone on the other end was answered.
    And like yesterday, I didn’t have to wait.
    “Ferguson.”
    “This is Janice Johnson. I was calling to see when I would be able to . . . see my son.”
    “Good morning, Mrs. Johnson,” he began in that friendly tone again. I’d expected something else this morning; I’d expected to feel as if I was becoming a nuisance. “I can check on that and get back to you.”
    “Please do.”
    Like yesterday, I hung up without a good-bye or a thank-you. I didn’t have room for niceties as long as my son was being held hostage.
    The tap on the door made me look up, and when I said, “Come in,” Delores stepped inside my bedroom.
    “Good, you’re awake.” She was already dressed, today donning a black wrap dress. “I didn’t want to knock too early.”
    “I was just getting up.” I raised the paper that I still held. “Tyrone left me a note. He stayed with Raj?”
    Delores nodded as she sat on the edge of our bed. “Nobody is getting a lot of sleep around here.”
    I didn’t bother to tell her that she was wrong about that. Breathing was almost impossible and eating was almost unthinkable . . . but sleeping? I was doing that well.
    She continued, “They knew you weren’t comfortable with Raj and his friends being here. So, since they wanted to talk about . . . some things, they headed over to Raj’s house.”
    My eyes narrowed.
    Delores added, “Tyrone wanted me to stay with you and take you over to my place this morning.”
    I folded my arms across my chest. “I hope Raj isn’t trying to talk Tyrone into doing something stupid.”
    Delores popped off the bed, pursed her lips, and looked down at me as if I’d just insulted her because I’d insulted her son.
    “You know that the Guardians are nothing more than vigilantes,” I kept on, not caring about how Delores felt. “And if they do something, that’s only going to make this situation worse.”
    “I don’t know how anything can be worse than this, Jan,” Delores said, resting one hand on her hip. “How can anything be worse than Marquis being dead?”
    It must’ve been the way I glared at her that made her say, “Look, I just think that everyone’s nerves and feelings and emotions are fragile right now and—”
    “That’s not it at all. Even if this weren’t about Marquis, I wouldn’t want to be involved with killers.”
    “They’re not killers!” But then, when I stared her down, she backed down.“Well, sometimes violence is