Romero drove her home like he said he would. Dylan and Norman kept asking questions that Norma didn't know how to answer.

   "We're gonna go home, and when we get there, I want you to get two blankets and two pillows. We're going to have a sleepover in Alex's room." Dylan gave her an odd look. Norman muttered something about a sleepover. Neither of them questioned it after that.

   So Norma went home. Got Alex's shotgun. He showed her when it was on safety, and how to handle it without hurting anyone. He explained to her how it loaded, then guided her through the steps and watched with satisfaction as she completed them. "Listen to me. If Keith gets anywhere near you, threatens you, or comes at you with anything...shoot him in the chest. If you have to shoot him, keep the boys with you and wait until I come back. Don't touch the body. Understand?"

   Norma gave a sullen nod.

   "Okay." He lifted his hands towards her face and stroked her baby-soft skin. Her eyes were scared, but he swore that somewhere deep down there was a blazing fire inside her. She wouldn't let Keith Summers lay a finger on the boys, even if it meant having to deal with him  herself.

   He leaned in to kiss her forehead. When he pulled away, she was crying, and he wiped away her tears. "What are you going to do?"

   He sighed. "Whatever I have to."

   He glanced behind her at Dylan, who was alert but confused. "Hey boy, I want you to stay near your mother and take care of her, alright? You stay near her unless she tells you otherwise, okay?"

   Dylan nodded. "Okay."

   "I love you, boy."

   For the first time since they'd moved in, Dylan smiled.

~                                                                                                                                                                                                  ~

   Alex feared that it was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

   If all went well, he would find Keith at Joyce's house. He could arrest him there, using the evidence that was in the shack near the potfield. No one would question it.

If Keith was gone, then he'd have to find him. If he ran, Alex would follow. If he attacked, Alex would shoot.

Keith was his best friend.

All throughout school, Alex and Keith had been buddies. They'd known each other since the first grade, when Keith got them in "detention" for using cuss words. The two had whispered to each other the entire time, repeating the words they had learned and laughing until they fell out of their chairs.

   Keith had been okay, back then.

   His father ran the motel, back when he was still alive. It had been in the family since his grandfather built it, and the Summers were determined to keep it under the family name. His father died when they were in fifth grade. It was around the same time when Alex's mother killed herself. The two spent many nights under the stars, talking about girls and death and the afterlife, and Alex admitted that he didn't believe that there was an afterlife. He said that he thought that when people died, they just died, turned into dust, and their bodies melted away under the dirt which they had been planted. Keith hated Alex for it. Said that he thought his father and grandfather were in Heaven, for all the good things they had done. They didn't speak to each other much after that.

   Still, Keith had been his friend. And now, he'd have to arrest him.

   He rang Joyce's doorbell.

   "Hey Joyce, you seen Keith around?"

   "Why, of course, he's just upstairs, I'm sure he wouldn't mind--" Alex pulled out his firearm, raising it to the shadowy figure which had now appeared behind Joyce. Keith was there, and he was holding a gun to his mother's head. "Keith, what are you doing--"

   "Don't speak," he told his mother. "Walk outside. We need to talk to the Sheriff."

   Joyce's fearful gaze was now directed at Alex. "Do as he says," he told her.

   Joyce stepped outside carefully, and Alex backtracked down the stairs, never taking his aim from Keith.

   "You need to turn around and walk away, Alex."

   "I'm the one giving orders here, Keith. Let her go. Let her go now, and I won't charge you for putting a gun to your mother's head," the gun between his own hands was shaking as he spoke.

   "You take me to jail, and I'll be there for the rest of my life. I know that slut told you what I did."

   "That's not important now, Keith. What's important now is that you drop the gun, and we talk this out. You don't have to be in jail for the rest of your life. We're friends, remember? We don't lie to each other."

   Keith opened his mouth to respond, yet the next words did not belong to him. "Hey!"

   For the first time since he'd got there, Alex's gaze drifted from Keith to look back at his wife, who was standing to his left, wielding a shotgun. "Norma, get out of here!" he yelled, feeling dread and anger well in his chest.

   "I'm not going anywhere, Alex. I'm not leaving you. Nobody's getting shot over me."

   "Well, you little--" the point of Keith's gun was directed at Norma. He fired.

   The thing clicked, and Keith gazed down at it with a mixture of confusion and worry. "Stupid thing jammed--" he hissed under his breath. Alex saw his opportunity. He dropped his firearm, running towards Keith with the cuffs in his hand. This was it. The moment Keith Summers, his oldest friend, would be locked behind bars forever.

   Joyce intercepted him. Grabbed the gun. Alex hardly registered it in his mind it happened so quick.

   Keith pulled away from his mother. His finger hit the trigger again. The gun gave a loud BANG! as the bullet exited the chamber, right into Joyce's throat.

   Keith yelled. Joyce plummeted to the ground, gagging and wrasping for breath.

   Her hands barely made it to her throat before she hit the ground. Keith was on her, eyeing the wound wildly. Norma followed suit, throwing down the shotgun to land at Joyce's side.

   Her chest rose and fell for a few seconds. Norma didn't know if it was just her mind playing tricks, or if Keith was actually crying beside her. "Oh, Momma, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do this...." her eyes were already looking past him, up into the great blue sky that was shining above them.

   It suddenly seemed a pitifully nice day for something like this to happen to someone like her.

  Something inside him hated it, but Alex took the opportunity to place the handcuffs on Keith. Joyce's mouth was open, but her breathing was getting more and more shallow. Alex checked her pulse. Norma started to run to the house to call an ambulance, but the Sheriff shook his head. Norma's hand went to her face as she burst into tears.

   Alex took Keith to his car. The man could barely form a sentence, but what he did say was a jumbled mess of "Mom" and "dead."

   After securing Mr. Summers, Alex Romero called someone to pick up Joyce's body, but he didn't have the heart to pull his girlfriend away from the scene. Every time he looked over at her, she was convulsing, shedding tears for the woman who had paid for her living for so long.

   Eventually, Norman came up behind his mother and tugged on her dress. Told her, "It's time to go home." If he had noticed the body, he decided not to say anything about it. Dylan hugged his mother, let her cry on his shoulder. His mind was swarming with so many thoughts, he didn't even know where to begin. What happened? Why was Mrs. Summers dead? Did Keith kill his own mother?

   Alex took Norma home while he dealt with the situation. Upon arriving home late that night, he found Norma and Norman in his bed.