The Gathering: Common Threads in the Life, #4

By Ronald L. Donaghe

The Gathering

Book 4, Common Threads in the Life series

 

Thirty-four years have passed since Tom Allen and Joel Reece met and fell in love in 1965. The one constant in their lives has been their undying love for each other; and second only to that has been the love of their daughter Shara who, at 28 years old has returned home. Along with her return is that of her mother, the four children the Reeces adopted following a tragic killing the the small town of Common, New Mexico, and other family members.

 

But this was not "the gathering" they had planned for the new millennium. The reason for the sudden gathering of family in the sweltering heat of August 1999 is that tragedy has yet again struck the very heart of the Reece family. An old nemesis and a new friend have also come among the family. One to do harm, the other to avenge it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronald L. Donaghe
• Release date: Mar 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781393364597

Ronald L. Donaghe

Ronald L. Donaghe is the author of a dozen works of fiction, as well as three biographies,  and a series of interactive workbooks on writing. He has been an editor for over 40 years.

Book preview

Part One The Gathering

1

Unknown Assailants

Eva Reece moved out to the sun porch with her coffee on this bright, late-August morning. She much preferred sitting there on the south side of the house off the dining room, since it put her out into her yard without the wind in the spring or the cold in the winter. Times past, since the sun porch was built, she and Douglas had spent their Sunday mornings together here, planning for the week, planning for a visit from the grandkids, planning their one trip to Europe.

My! That was already ten years ago, she thought, recalling the trip, wrapping her hands around the mug. She took a sip of the hard, dark coffee, watching the sun come up over the Florida Mountains toward the east. Nineteen eighty nine. Back then she and Douglas were already in their late sixties, and Douglas had teased her when she objected that they were too old to make such a trip, that the kids needed her, or the grandkids. But Douglas had just laughed. "You mean the grown kids with their own families? You mean Paddy and Dete and their children?"

She smiled wanly recalling her husband’s face, his teasing. In her mind it was ageless, while her own had become more wrinkled over the years and scrunched-up looking so that she no longer bothered with makeup—not that she ever did have much use for vanity or painting her lips and nails. Yet it was Douglas who had preceded her in death—and that was already two years ago.

Now she was contemplating the coming new millennium. Didn’t make it out of the twentieth century, she said aloud, thinking of Douglas. She often spoke aloud to herself, and she often responded to her own words. Sometimes she played Douglas’ part, listening to his voice when she spoke for him, trying to capture his inimitable advice-giving. It was always done with humor.

He had found so many things funny in their lives, or fun, and Eva had often begrudged him his laughter in the face of crisis or embarrassment. Now that he was not here, she sought his wisdom and spoke to herself, knowing full well what he might say in a given situation.

She took another sip of coffee, and even though the sun porch was warm, she wrapped her housecoat a little tighter around her thin arms.

Eva needed his wisdom now more than ever. Later, she would dress and make the drive in her old Caddie and go into the hospital where Tom and Joel lay alongside each other in separate beds in the same room. They had both been shot by unknown assailants the night before, and if it hadn’t been for Sally Ann calling and asking if the family reunion was still on for December, she wouldn’t have called the boys after sunset to see what the final plans were. But when there was no response on the intercom that linked her house with theirs, and then no answer on either of their cell phones, she grew immediately apprehensive.

She shook her head dispelling the images of their bodies lying motionless—Tom’s at the second floor landing of the stairwell, Joel’s farther up the stairs near the door to the roof. Blood was pooled or smeared everywhere, black with the oncoming darkness. She shook her head again, shivering, and rattled her cup into the saucer on the table beside her chair, her hand unsteady, recalling the scene. She was again seized with fear, though the doctor in the emergency room had assured her that the bullet had only grazed Joel’s head. Head wounds bleed profusely, he had said of Joel and assured her that the bullet that had hit Tom just below the collar bone had missed all the organs—just barely.

Still, Eva had cried out for Douglas, listening for his voice at least, though his arms would no longer enfold her. Waiting for the ambulance, Eva had spent energy and strength she didn’t readily possess, hurrying up and down the stairs with wet towels and pans of water. She tried to staunch the bleeding in Tom’s wound, then worked her way farther up to check and double-check Joel, lying in a pool of blood which, she was certain, was massive and fatal, until she saw that the skin on the right side of his head was ripped and that the bullet had not penetrated his skull.

The doctor said that Joel would have a little swelling, that it was a slight concussion, and that he would be watched closely.

She had ridden in the ambulance with her two beloved sons, her blouse soaked with a mixture of their blood, making calls from her cell phone, vaguely aware she might be ruining it as the keys became red and sticky.

She called Sally first in New York to let her know what had happened. Then she called Detrick, since he and his family lived the closest, up in the Sacramento Mountains outside of Cloudcroft on their ranch. She needed Detrick right then, but it was a three-hour drive from the ranch to Common, and she would just have to make it through the emergency surgeries without him. He had remained the closest to her of the four adopted children; she saw him most often as the years passed. Then she punched the speed dials to each of the other children in turn. Detrick’s twin brother, Patrick, and his wife and children were living in San Francisco, as were Sharon and her daughter Shara. Henry lived up in Montana. She didn’t marvel as she once had at the conveniences that her cell phone provided, only at its utility.

She attempted not to alarm any of them when she called, knowing that they would be unable to make it during the surgeries, but she managed to frighten them anyway. They knew her too well, because her voice was shrill and teary as she related the news.

I don’t know, yet, she said, more than once when they had asked what had happened or how badly Tom or Joel was wounded. Yes, they were both shot, but they’re both alive, she assured each of her children, her granddaughter Shara, and her daughter-in-law (as she thought of Sharon, even though she and Joel had never married).

Then came the waiting in the hospital as the doctors and nurses took over from the emergency techs, and then came the well-intentioned but bothersome attendant who helped Eva clean up, providing her with a billowy hospital blouse to replace the bloody one she removed right there in the waiting room. The attendant had even cleaned the sticky blood off her phone.

It still works, she said, punching a button and holding it out to Eva with the keypad lit up, if you have any more calls to make.

Eva did, and through the night she received and made calls, gaining an idea of who could make it home to Common and who would not. It turned out that all of her children, both her own daughters and her adopted children, would come home, though in a couple of cases not their spouses or the grandchildren.

The police became involved at the hospital during the night, too, but she was unable to help them, finally telling them that they would have to talk with Tom or Joel.

"No, officer. It’s been many years since there was that kind of trouble for Tom or Joel. You know that."

"Still, ma’am, you’re sure you haven’t heard anything?

They haven’t mentioned any threats?"

Nothing! she insisted. Then finally left alone, she answered an incoming call. It was Shara, Tom and Joel’s daughter, wanting to know where she and her mother would stay. She wondered why Shara should even have to ask. You’ll stay at your dads’ home, honey, Eva said. She was thrilled that Shara would be able to make it. If there was anything that would heal the boys’ wounds quickly, it was their daughter’s return.

Both Patrick and his wife Sudha, though not their girls, would make it, and they would stay at the boys’ house. Detrick, his wife Betty, and their youngest son Joe Patrick would also stay at the boys’ house, but Detrick said his two oldest sons would be delayed a couple of days. Eva realized that she was sending the whole lot of them to stay with Tom and Joel, except for her own two daughters, Kathleen and Tricia, and Sally. Kathleen and Tricia’s children were grown and long gone from home, and neither of her daughters thought their husbands or children could make it. Eva was not distressed by this news, since her two oldest daughters’ families had made it home for Douglas’ funeral. It was too much to ask to gather so many on such short notice.

Between calls Eva walked up and down the short corridor to the emergency room. She was not allowed in, and she could see nothing but staff behind a desk in a pool of light. Beyond the doors with a red light above them Eva could only guess what was happening to her son and his mate. Otherwise, all was quiet in the hallway, and Eva had to stay on the phone with her children or go nuts waiting.

She called her youngest and only adopted daughter, Sally, for the third or fourth time. She wanted Sally to stay with her, as well. And your partner, Dillon, she said. Do you think he can make it?

There was a short pause on the other end. You’ve never met him, mother. Are you sure this is a good time?

Eva was surprised at Sally’s reticence and surprised that, instead of talking about the shooting, they were visiting. It helped calm Eva’s nerves, however, and she was glad of that. Of course it is. Since things are as they are, don’t you think we could just have the gathering now instead of in December?

Another pause. If he can get away, Sally said. You caught me between shows, but Dillon...

Sally. Honey, you don’t think I mind about you and Dillon, do you?

This time there was laughter. I guess not. It’s just... Just what, Sally? You don’t think I’m that old fashioned,

do you?"

Sally laughed more brightly. About us living together, instead of being married? Good Lord, no! I can make it, but Dillon’s play is still running.

In her mind, Eva waved off Sally’s excuse. If he can’t come, I guess I’ll have to meet him some other time. But you do know I want to meet him don’t you?

I’m glad you do, Mom. I mean after the disaster with Nikki.

Again, Eva brushed the problems aside. True, she had been a little shocked to find out that Nikki was a woman, and Sally had informed her later when they had broken up that she wasn’t really gay, but that Nikki was just so interesting and beautiful it had seemed like a good idea at the time to become her lover. Over the years, Eva had softened (or maybe hardened) enough that such relationships didn’t affect her as they did when she first learned about Joel and Tom. Still, Eva did not dwell on such thoughts. There wasn’t time. Just come home, Sally. Bring Dillon if you can. I hope you can stay for a few days. It wasn’t the way I’d wanted our reunion to be, but we’ve no choice. It would be too hard on everyone to do it again in December.

After calling everyone, waking them up, or catching them going out for the evening, depending upon which coast she called, Eva had reluctantly left the hospital around four that morning. Dr. Clara Tyler, who had taken over the pediatric practice from Dr. Hossley, checked on the boys once they were out of the emergency room—not because she was a general practitioner, and not because her services were needed, but because Clara had been a good friend to the family for almost thirty years. And then, as tired and busy as Clara was, she insisted on driving Eva home. So Eva left the hospital reluctantly. But even Tom, as weak and pale and groggy as he was, insisted that she get some rest. Joel was sleeping when she left and in good hands. So she kissed his cheek and only cried when she and Clara were in the car heading out to the farm.

But returning home was anything but restful.

Earlier, when Eva had called 911 with her emergency, the ambulance and both County and State police had descended on Reece Farms headquarters, filling the night with sirens, causing dogs to howl in the distance. The flashing lights on the cruisers strobed the darkness until every building in the Reece compound flashed red and blue, and cruisers and cops crawled over the farmyard like an invading army.

When Eva had descended the second floor stairwell with emergency techs carrying the two stretchers, her only thought was to will both boys to stay alive. So when she was detained right outside the boys’ front door by Deputy Sheriff Jeremy Withers, she simply stared for a moment, putting a name to the face and tried to concentrate on his words, as she watched Tom and Joel’s stretchers being loaded into the back of an ambulance.

She had no idea what Withers’ words said as she moved away from him. Don’t let your men paw through my boys’ belongings. They were on the roof. We’ll have family coming in...

Later, after the long night at the hospital, she stepped out of Clara’s car at her own house. The night was quiet again—what was left of it—but she could see cop cars parked at the bottom of the hill at her sons’ house, and flood lights had been set up on the roof of their adobe and on the roof of their old house up the hill. Oh God! she thought. That’s where the shooters were. Her legs buckled and she leaned against Clara’s car for a moment. Clara helped her into the house, then into bed.

"You rest, Eva. I left instructions for someone to attend the boys and to call me if there’s any change."

So Eva lay still in her bed trying to do what Douglas would have done, but when she closed her eyes, she saw another ambulance two years before taking her husband away.

NOW THAT SHE HAD SHOWERED and had a belt of coffee, she dressed and headed for the garage. The farm was so quiet, she could hear herself breathing as she eased the Caddie out of the garage. She had the window down, much preferring the natural coolness of the morning air to the re-circulated air of the car. She could hear the tires twisting on the concrete as she backed out into the driveway. The only evidence of the activity of the night before was a single cruiser parked outside the large gate. It was Deputy Withers. He waved as she passed through the gate and, in a moment, Eva forgot about him.

The silence blanketed everything, and she was reminded that, except for her boys and the crews that came these days to do the manual labor, life on the farm was almost empty.

Without Douglas, it seemed that the farm had lost more than him, as if its very life was diminished. She saw the end of things, the end of her life, the passing of her generation on to Tom and Joel and the strange little family they had put together that kept changing over the years, as if the months were hours and the years were days. She didn’t often dwell on it, but with the boys having been attacked, she didn’t see the well-kept farmyard that presented itself to passersby on the road, the neatly lined up pickers and tractors, plows, and other implements, nor her lush garden.

As she drove, all looked dull and dead even though the crops were green. There was a things-long-past look to the highway, the familiar but run-down houses, the fallow land where other farms had once been and were now fields of tumbleweeds and yucca, reclaiming their territory. It had been thus, this dullness in her vision of once vibrant scenes, since her husband’s death. He had died suddenly, as he was coming into the house, sagging in the doorway, reaching for his head, a kind of stunned expression on his face, and a noisy expelling of his last breath.

But it seemed even more dismal, this land, now that her boys were seriously hurt. Still, even this realization was a passing feeling. There wasn’t time to dwell on the sadness.

She stomped the gas pedal, and the old Caddie caught fire from the pistons, and the speedometer slid up to 70 then 80, where she held it until she entered the outskirts of Common.

SOMEONE HAD SEEN EVERYTHING, from the first bullet that hit Joel Reece in the head to the shot that struck Tom Allen, causing him to spin off balance and fall out of sight. And yet, he kept firing the semi-automatic. But neither man rose up in his view above the parapet—a good sign that they were dead. He waited and watched from his vantage point on the asphalt roof of the small house on the hill. From there, he had a clear view of the larger house below. For many days he had observed the two men from the roof of the small house, had entered that house freely day after day; he had propped the cheap aluminum ladder on the west side of the house so he could climb up and lay down on the roof and observe the goings on below.

He stayed there until he heard the sirens in the distance and saw the dance of multicolored lights spinning atop all the cars. Blue, white, amber, and blood red lights, blinking, filling up the area around the big house down the hill, dancing in the dark.

And when the police invaded the scene, he simply slipped off the roof and walked straight west, using the cover of darkness and the mesquite bushes on the west side of the road to conceal his movements. Then he strode boldly through the desert and climbed down into the bottom of an old gravel pit where he had parked his black SUV. Over the years, the walls of the pit had crumbled and formed an easily navigable entrance.

Dead, dead, dead! he wrote in his journal later when he returned to his house, sitting at the desk with the mirror on the wall, where he could look up and into his own gleeful eyes. Then he opened the straight razor and began investigating the delicious pain with a short slice here, another here, and here...

SHE HAD FALLEN ASLEEP in the waiting room of the hospital and was dreaming of the time that Sharon was having her baby, and Margaret Jost was there with her and Douglas, and for the first time, really, she was talking at length with Margaret. She even recalled in her dream what she had been thinking...and she smiled in her sleep.

Detrick stood in the doorway, looking at his adoptive mother and grinned when he saw her smile.

Wonder what she’s dreaming? he asked his wife, Betty. Behind them, also looking in on his grandmother, was Detrick’s son Joe Patrick. He looked sleepy and puffy eyed, and Detrick wanted to get him out to the farm and settled in, but he also wanted to wake Eva and let her know that he was there.

So in the dream when Margaret Jost touched her shoulder, Eva awoke with a start to see Detrick smiling down at her, his hand warm and substantive. He squeezed her shoulder.

Hi, Mom, he said, gently. Sorry we didn’t make it last night, but JP was at football practice over in Tularosa.

Eva sat up, and Detrick helped her to her feet and crushed her against himself.

She patted his strong shoulders, her face buried for a moment in his chest, feeling tears threaten to spill. It’s all right, honey. I knew you’d make it when you could.

How are they? Detrick asked, finally pulling away to study his mother’s face.

We should go check. They were both asleep when I got here earlier, so I thought I’d wait a little while.

Eva hugged her daughter-in-law, then her grandson. She straightened her shoulders. Now, I don’t want anyone to be shocked at how they look. They’re both going to be all right, but...

Who shot’em granny? Joe Patrick asked. Of all three of Detrick’s sons, he seemed to enjoy his Uncles Tom and Joel the best. Detrick’s oldest two boys knew about their uncles, but Joe Patrick seemed the most comfortable with it, or the most immune to the bad things that they might have heard from their friends about homosexuals. He was only fifteen, while the other two were already twenty and twenty two; yet there was a maturity about him that his brothers had lacked at his age.

Eva smiled at him, though his question had to be taken seriously and treated that way. We don’t know yet, JP. But the police are looking into it.

It’s ‘cause they’re gay, ain’t it? Some gay basher don’t like them, right?

Eva tried to hide her smile. JP was the most curious child she had ever seen, rivaling Shara Margaret in that department. But Eva smiled because JP drew conclusions by framing them within questions, so that half the time he was asking questions, rather than making statements.

He was also a likely candidate in Eva’s mind to be gay, himself, though she wouldn’t have been able to say why she thought so—nor would she share that thought with anyone. The idea that he could be didn’t bother Eva as it once might have. The world was just so much different than it was back in the sixties when Joel came out to her and Douglas. But JP would probably not come out to them, anyway; instead, he would ask, I’m gay, right?

They were walking the short hallway from the waiting room to the boys’ room, just off the ICU, where they could still be watched closely. JP was holding Eva’s hand, and it was so hot she wondered if he had a fever. But he seemed lively enough and reminded her so much of Joel when he was that age. He had a bright smile, hazel eyes, kind of burnished honey-colored hair, and was the shortest of Detrick’s boys, though he might still shoot up in a last teenage growth spurt. He was slight of frame and while his facial features were decidedly masculine, there was a softness about him, a sensitivity that she associated with her son and people like him.

Detrick had matured from the tall and lanky teen he had been when she and Douglas had adopted him, turning into a rather large man, though still not overweight. The years he had worked on the farm and then afterwards, when he and Betty had purchased the ranch, simply demanded that he grow to fit the challenge. Unlike his twin brother Patrick, Detrick had never had a penchant for school, though he held a degree in agricultural science from Sul Ross University. And in a way, he and Patrick became less twin-like through the years. Patrick was still tall and thin and had become rather bookish, though he had also worked on the farm for several years after he graduated from UC Berkeley. In the last twenty years back in San Francisco, however, his writing and office work had the reverse effect, and he stayed thin.

As if reading his mother’s thoughts, Detrick asked if Patrick was coming. You were able to get hold of him weren’t you, Mom?

Eva said that she had, and then she stopped everyone just outside the door into the boys’ room. She held JP back and looked into each of their eyes. If they’re asleep, we’ll come back later.

EVA STAYED BACK FROM the two beds and let Detrick, Betty, and JP step up to them. The boys were awake, and Joel was the most alert. When he saw Detrick and beside him JP, he broke out into a grin and lifted a hand in greeting. It was all JP needed as he closed the remaining shy distance to his injured uncle and lay his head on Joel’s chest in a kind of hug, then he kissed Joel’s cheek. Someone sobbed softy, but Eva couldn’t tell who it was as all three of the visitors blocked her view.

Detrick and Betty also kissed Joel’s cheek, and Betty held his hand, looking from Joel to Tom. She stepped the short distance from Joel’s bed to Tom’s, and Eva saw that Tom was aware of the presence of everyone, though he barely raised his hand in greeting. In a moment, JP repeated his hug and kiss of his uncle Tom, then he looked directly at Joel.

What happened? Who did this, Uncle Joel?

Joel shrugged and attempted to sit up. But Detrick gently pushed him back down. Don’t, Joel. You need to rest. We’ll talk later.

I’m not that serious hurt, Joel said, and Eva heard the strength in his voice. He smiled at JP. We don’t know who did it.

J-Joel f-fell over, Tom rasped suddenly and everyone turned to him.

Shh-shh! Betty whispered gently to Tom and smoothed his hair. JP’s just curious and hurt and scared. But we’ve got time for this later.

Eva studied the family dynamic among Detrick, Betty, and their fifteen year old. Betty wasn’t a small person, either, though she was shorter than Detrick’s six-two. Now, at forty five, her formerly black hair was more salt and pepper, and in the last few years she had taken to wearing it short. It wasn’t stylish and never had been, just like Betty. Like her husband and son, she was wearing Wranglers and boots and a long-sleeved shirt. She was stocky and strong, and Eva had always liked her, precisely because she was a no-nonsense woman, who took as much interest in the ranch as Detrick did. She was the perfect woman for Detrick, Eva thought, as she watched the three of them getting their first look at the boys and showing their concern.

Wondering who their attacker was, what his motives were, even where he was at this moment suddenly seized Eva with dread, and she went closer to her boys, feeling afraid again.

2

The Cleanup

Detrick’s throat burned with the bile and anger that bubbled up from his guts as they were all leaving the hospital. The unexpected phone call that had come hours earlier with the news that both Joel and Tom had been shot reminded him of the day he and Patrick had gone to work for Douglas Reece and had gotten news that their parents and a younger brother had been murdered by their older brother, Kenneth. Henry, Jr., and baby Sally had found their way to the Reece farm with the tale of the killing. As freakish as that had been, however, it remained abstract and dreamlike to Detrick until he had seen his parents and his little brother at the mortuary. But when Eva had called, her small voice sounding far away and tearful, Detrick’s adult mind grasped the meaning and fullness of her words immediately, and he felt the first stabs of pain. He had made it through their quick preparations for the trip to Common, his guts aching, his heart pounding, and everything seeming to go wrong just getting off the ranch and over to Tularosa to pick up JP.

The trip itself, through Alamogordo and over Organ Pass, down into Las Cruces, and finally the sixty-mile stretch to Common went by in a blur at ninety miles an hour when he could safely do so. Still, it had taken several hours just to pack, throw feed to the animals, contact his older boys with the news, and get to JP. By the time they had pulled into the hospital parking lot, Detrick’s throat burned, his head was pounding, and he was almost sick to his stomach. Only when he saw his adoptive mother sleeping and smiling did he relax.

But in the parking lot, once more, after seeing Tom and Joel and arranging to have Betty drive Eva and JP out to the farm in the Caddie, Detrick allowed his anger to break through the crust of his thin calm. He followed the Caddie down Eighth Street and out to the farm, hot tears leaking out of his eyes. Whoever did this is gonna pay! he thought. Pay dear, he said aloud in a hoarse whisper.

When they pulled through the large gates into the farm headquarters, he was not prepared for the scene, nor the cops now on duty, who first stopped Eva’s car and then his pickup. He didn’t recognize the cop who came up to his window, but he knew the name of Withers on the shield.

We’re checking everyone who comes through here, Withers said, his voice calm and apologetic.

You’ll be checking quite a few of us, officer, Detrick said. Our whole family’s coming in.

Withers betrayed a frown, but it disappeared quickly. Your mother told us, so we processed the crime scene inside the house and on the roof, but I can’t let anyone go up to that small house on the hill.

Is that where the shooters were? Withers nodded, barely acknowledging Detrick’s question.

You understand, we’re still investigating. That house is off limits.

Detrick understood, his throat burning, the bile rising again at the thought of a crime scene, realizing that up the hill was where the shooters must have been. He thanked Withers and then parked alongside Eva’s car on the east side of her house. He waited until Betty stepped out into the driveway and motioned her over.

She came up to the driver’s side and kissed him through the open window, then left her hand on his shoulder. You think I might ought to stay with Eva ‘til you have a look?

Betty knew him, Detrick thought. And keep JP with you too. I know he’s curious and wants to look around, but whatever’s there at Tom and Joel’s, I’ve gotta clean it up, so he doesn’t see.

Betty laughed without humor. They both knew their son. I’ll keep him busy. Just call when things are presentable. Ok?

There were two more police cruisers parked at the bottom of the hill, and their very presence lent a dreamlike quality to the bright morning. They were as out-of-place as an alien spacecraft might be on the ranch. And he didn’t like it, but he knew it was necessary. Nor did he like to see the yellow crime scene tape blocking almost every entrance to the yard, from the iron gate on the east side of the house to the tape on either side of the house at the small gates that led around to the back yard. No doubt the cops had strung the tape like Christmas garland all the way up the hill to Tom and Joel’s old house where the shooters must have positioned themselves for the attack. He resisted the urge to scream at the young cop who put a hand up to stop him as he came into the yard and entered the ramada at the front door.

Your boss said we could go in, son, Detrick said. I appreciate your...uh...

No problem, sir, the young officer said and opened the front door that let into the foyer.

No problem, Detrick thought. No problem. He hated that substitute for a simple you’re welcome.

My wife and son will be coming along in a little while. I’m just going to make sure— Detrick slammed his mouth shut and walked passed the young cop into the darkened interior and then through the smaller door into the living room. Even though the heat of the morning was only a hint of what it would become later, the temperature dropped perceptibly inside. Light filtered into the living room from high windows, but to Detrick’s mind the room was full of shadows of bizarre aspect. It could, however, have been much worse, he thought, clamping his mind shut on the thought of murder.

Under other circumstances, Detrick would have taken a moment to admire the large area, where so much of Tom’s decorating ability had been put to use, and Detrick did stop, panning the room with his eyes. He didn’t know what he had expected to see, maybe the scene of a ransacked room, so he was relieved that there was no evidence of any chaos, no overturned furniture, no mess. He took a deep