Free Deadly Accusations by Debra Purdy Kong Page A

died, she’d provoked twelve-year-olds into wanting to beat her up.
    â€œJasmine might not have been killed by her ex, or by a man at all,” Casey said. “Maybe the killer was the jealous girlfriend of someone Jasmine was seeing.”
    Marie began loading the dishwasher. “I wonder if Birch owns a handgun.”
    Casey sighed and shook her head.

EIGHT

    â€œSEE, CASEY, ALL IT TAKES is a little patience.” Lou sat on the cushioned window seat in her living room and stroked the guinea pig in his arms. “They’re real friendly when you give them a chance.”
    Since the most recent bite on her finger still stung, Casey had her doubts. “There might not be many more chances. Marie’s dropping by any minute, so maybe she’s found homes for them.”
    â€œYou said she sounded upset on the phone.”
    â€œYeah, but that’s normal for her these days.”
    With any luck, the visit would be short. Summer was at her weekly Sunday brunch with her grandmother, and Lou, having stayed the night, would be leaving soon. All the activity and extra shifts since Jasmine’s death had put Casey seriously behind on homework. She glanced at the library books and research notes on the kitchen table.
    The intercom rang. Seconds later she was telling Marie she’d be right down.
    â€œI should go too.” Lou returned the guinea pig to its cage, then zipped up his hoodie.
    This was one of those times when Casey didn’t mind having to go downstairs to let visitors in. She hated the idea of Marie finding her way up here and invading her refuge. On her way down, Casey heard Summer’s golden retriever bark from what sounded like the kitchen. When she and Lou reached the ground floor, Cheyenne jogged down the hall toward them, wagging her tail. Rhonda had promised Summer a dog for her birthday a few weeks back. During a trip to the SPCA , Summer fell in love with a four-year-old golden retriever. She’d made a good choice, though living with a dog still took some adjusting.
    Casey opened the door and stared at Marie’s nervous, blotchy face. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œEverything.” Her voice trembled. “Someone fired a bullet through my son’s bedroom window.”
    â€œOh, no!” How could someone do that to a twelve-year-old? “Is he all right?”
    â€œYeah, Kyle wasn’t hit, but he’s still shaken.” Marie stepped into the foyer. One look at Lou and her mouth fell open. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
    â€œI usually am,” he replied. “Where did the bullet land?”
    â€œIn the wall above his head.” She wrung her hands together. “It happened at three this morning. The breaking glass woke Kyle, and he was still dazed when he came to my room. He wasn’t even sure what had happened.”
    â€œThe poor kid,” Casey said.
    Cheyenne, who’d been sitting quietly, lifted a paw to Marie who gently shook it.
    â€œHe was telling me about the glass on the floor when a bullet hit my window.” Her eyes glistened. “I pulled Kyle onto the floor and waited. God, he could have been . . .” She knelt down and started to stroke Cheyenne, but lost her balance and landed on her butt.
    Casey and Lou helped Marie to her feet.
    â€œSorry. Still shaky, I guess.”
    They ushered her to the sofa in Rhonda’s living room. Casey sat beside her, grateful that Lou did the same. She wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with Marie alone.
    â€œAt least the girls weren’t targeted. Their room’s across the hall. Kyle’s window is next to mine.” Marie grasped Lou’s hand. “Before I could call the cops, the phone rang, and a whispered voice told me to stop investigating Jasmine’s murder or the bullets would hit my kids next.” She slumped against his shoulder.
    â€œI take it the cops haven’t found the shooter?” Casey