Free Kernel of Truth by Kristi Abbott Page B

said.
    I did not roll my eyes and I did bite back the twenty-seven sarcastic remarks that were on the tip of my tongue even if swallowing them down was harder than swallowing a dry scone. It was like Jessica was going all over town making sure people saw how much she was grieving. “We all feel guilty about not checking on Ms. Coco. Annie feels terrible. She was on the back porch to drop off sachets and didn’t go in. I feel awful, too.” I wasn’t collapsing publicly and making it all about watching me have appropriate emotions, though, was I?
    â€œYeah, but Miss Jessica was out. It wouldn’t have taken her more than a minute or two to check on Miss Coco,” Sam said.
    I smiled. Ah, the egocentrism of teenagers. “I’m not sure I’d call running the ice cream social for the youth group being out. What time did you finish up?”
    â€œI helped Miss Jessica carry the last few things to her car at about nine fifteen. She was going to the store to buy some bandages for the burns on her fingers and then going home.” Sam ate the second popcorn ball and then let Sprocket lick his fingers clean.
    I made a face. “Wash your hands, Sam. That’s pretty precise recollecting.”
    He grinned. “I didn’t have to be home until ten and neither did Susanna.”
    Nine fifteen. Just a few minutes before Jasper would be looking in Coco’s back window, breaking it and then killing Coco for a few hundred dollars and some truffles. No wonder Jessica felt guilty. If she’d driven by, she’d have caught Jasper in the act. I felt another twinge of sympathy for her.I’d never forget her red eyes and pale face at the shock and horror of finding her aunt dead. I shook myself. She didn’t check on her aunt. She hadn’t seen Jasper and Coco was dead. No wonder she was falling apart all over town.
    I told Sam to stop tilting his chair back before he broke it and went back to the kitchen to make more popcorn.
    *   *   *
    Sprocket and I were getting ready for bed when I heard Dan tear out of the driveway on Sunday night. I texted Haley: What’s going on?
    A few seconds later, my phone chirped with Haley’s return text: Another break-in.
    Me: Where?
    Haley: Granny’s Nooks and Crannies
    Crap. That was only a block from POPS. It was run by Barbara Werner, one of Coco’s closest friends and another fiercely independent little old lady. I texted again: Is Barbara okay?
    Haley: Still breathing.
    I pulled on my Ugg boots, threw on a fleece jacket, snapped on Sprocket’s leash and we flew down the stairs and into the night. The streets were empty. No one was out. A little fingernail slice of moon hung over the lake. As I hustled along, streetlights made the trees cast shadows that felt as if they were reaching out to grab me with gnarled fingers. I kept a tight grip on Sprocket’s leash and pulled my jacket tighter around me. The fleece didn’t keep out enough of the cold. I’d need a real winter coat this year, something with down or wool or both. The only other moving thing I saw was an SUV gliding down Marina Road as Sprocket and I sped by on foot. Whoever was driving didn’t stop. By the time we actually made it to Granny’s, I’d started to calmdown only to have my heart rate ratchet back up again when I saw the ambulance with its flashing lights parked in front of the store.
    Huerta shepherded the EMTs out of the store. Sprocket barked twice and Huerta looked up. “Rebecca, what are you doing here?”
    â€œI heard there was a break-in. Is Barbara okay?” My breath made puffs of steam on the cold night air.
    Huerta looked down at the gurney being pushed by the two EMTs. I looked, too. Barbara’s face was as white as bleached flour, but the side of her head was dark with matted blood. “I’m fine, Rebecca,” she said in a voice that sounded anything but.
    â€œWhat happened?” I