Free A Deadly Grind by Victoria Hamilton Page A

hours!”
    “We could go stay somewhere else for a few days. Dee would take us in. Or we could get a room at the Inn.”
    Jaymie shuddered. “It’s only going to get worse, Becca. Think about it sitting there for days and days. This is our home. I can’t stand the thought of that . . . I just can’t stand it.”
    “I can’t let you handle that alone, but I will
not
go back there right now,” Becca said, her voice tight with nerves. She didn’t like blood; even a scratch on her arm made her queasy.
    Jaymie took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. “I’ll clean it up. It’s just blood. I think. I hope.” She shuddered internally, but trying to rest while knowing blood was seeping into the boards of her beloved summer porch was an absolute no go. Surely cleaning it up quickly would be best all around.
    “Are you sure? Look, rest now, and I’ll help you later, I promise.”
    “No, Becca, it’s okay,” Jaymie said, reaching out and hugging her sister. It was a magnanimous offer, given how she felt about blood. “I
want
to do this. You know me; I like a little solitude and a boring task when things get crazy.” She pushed Rebecca toward the stairs and said, “Go! Come down when you’re good and ready.”
    Without further protest, Rebecca went. But if Jaymie thought she’d have solitude, she was wrong. All she had time for was letting Denver and Hoppy out of her room, when the steady stream of gawkers and neighbors and concerned citizens began. She turned them all away as politely as she could until DeeDee Stubbs trotted toward her up the walk.
    She carried a pail with a lid, gloves and a bottle of bleach. The very first things she said were, “Are you okay? How’s Becca?”
    “I’m all right. I think,” Jaymie said. “Becca went up to bed. She’s exhausted.”
    “Meaning she can’t deal with the blood. I’ve come to work, not just gawk,” she said, reaching down to pet Hoppy, who was begging for attention. “If even a fraction of what I heard is correct, you’ll need some help cleaning up your summer porch. That’s where it happened, right?”
    “Yeah, that’s where . . . yeah.” She shuddered. “But Dee, you didn’t need to come over. I could never ask your help for something like this. You really don’t know what you’re signing up for.”
    “I think I probably do,” she said. “Maybe more than you.”
    On that cryptic comment, Jaymie looked up and down the street and ushered DeeDee into the house. “Okay, but
I
don’t even know yet what I’ll find,” she admitted. “I haven’t gone to the kitchen or the summer porch. All I’ve had time to do is let Denver and Hoppy out of my room. Now I have to go and look at the damage, and I’m kind of spooked.”
    “We’ll face it together, kiddo,” DeeDee said. She linked arms with Jaymie and tugged her toward the back of the house. “Let’s go.”
    The animals followed them down the hall toward the kitchen, Hoppy with the mindless happiness he always seemed to proceed through life exuding, and Denver slinking along with an attitude of surly suspicion,
his
customary outlook. Jaymie, with her older friend, held back one moment, then took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen. The police had closed and locked the door between the kitchen and summer porch, so Jaymie walked slowly through her favorite room of the house, but quailed just as she got to the porch door. The memory of the dark and the body and her fear flooded her.
    “Jaymie,” DeeDee said, gently, touching her arm, “it’s okay, hon, I’m here.”
    “And I’m glad,” Jaymie said, covering DeeDee’s hand on her arm with her own. DeeDee had the motherly vibe that Rebecca occasionally emanated, but in a far different sense. Where Becca could be harrying, pushier toward Jaymie than their mom had ever been, Dee had kids, one just a few years younger than Jaymie, and knew how to be encouraging without being aggressive. Jaymie took heart and opened the door, staring