Part 82 (2/2)
”Well, I don't agree. And it was my problem, my decision.”
”Your problem?” Insult punched through temper. ”That's how it is? You can come into my place with pots of soup, ma.s.sage tables, Jesus, dogs. You can walk in, in the middle of the night, to close a f.u.c.king window and fight off an a.s.sault, but when somebody plants a gun on you, tries to implicate you in a murder, it's your problem? A murder most likely connected to me. But that's none of my business?”
”I didn't say that.” Even to her own ears the defense sounded weak. ”I didn't mean that.”
”What do you mean?”
”I didn't want to dump all this on you and your family.”
”You're in this because you're involved with me. And you pushed and wheedled your way in.”
”Pushed and wheedled?” Her own insult bloomed so bright and hot, she whirled away to try to capture some of the smoke, and the calm, then immediately decided she'd have needed a smudge stick the size of Whiskey Beach Light to manage it. ”Wheedled?”
”d.a.m.n right you did, from the minute I came back here. Now you're in, and you don't want to dump? You don't give anybody else a chance to dump. You're there with the shovel before the first clod hits the ground. But when it falls on you, you don't trust me enough to help.”
”G.o.d. G.o.d! It isn't about trust. It's about timing.”
”If that were true, you'd have found the time to tell me. You found it to tell Maureen.”
”She was-”
”Instead of finding the time, you're up here lighting sage on fire and waving around a smoking stick.”
”Don't make fun of my process.”
”I don't care if you burn a field of sage or sacrifice a chicken. I care you didn't tell me you were in trouble.”
”I'm not in trouble. The police know it wasn't my gun. I called Vinnie the minute I found it.”
”But not me.”
”No.” She sighed, wondering how trying to do the right thing could go so horribly wrong. ”I didn't.”
”My family left this morning, but you didn't tell me. You weren't going to tell me now.”
”I needed to wave my smoking stick around and get comfortable in my house again. It's getting cold. I want to go in.”
”Fine. Go in and pack a bag.”
”Eli, I just want to be alone and quiet.”
”You can be alone and quiet at Bluff House. It's a big place. You're not staying here by yourself until this whole G.o.dd.a.m.n mess is over.”
”This is my house.” Her eyes stung, and she wished she could blame it on the thinning, sluggish smoke. ”I'm not letting some b.a.s.t.a.r.d drive me out of my house.”
”Then we'll bunk here.”
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