Miles

Anna's scream resonated off of every stone in the house. A moment later, she came running out of the laundry room, her hands red with blood. "I thought it was mud!" she said when she reached us.

Steven came running back into the room, "Is everyone alright?" He asked.

"It appears so," I said, after I looked her over carefully. She didn't appear hurt. Just bloodied.

Steven looked over everyone carefully, lingering on Anna's bloody hands which she held out in front of her in horror. Her screaming woke Markus. His footsteps down the grand staircase echoed through the house, tripping a couple of times and landing hard at the bottom.

"Please get Dr. Gore, Steven," I said to snap him out of his dumbfounded gaze. He nodded and ran off.

"Why was your shirt covered in blood?" Anna stared wide-eyed at Mikkel as she continued to shake. Markus came running into the kitchen in his boxers. "It was black, so I thought it was mud," Anna said, "I tried to wash it and it all came out as blood! Why was there so much blood on your shirt, Mikkel?"

"Where did you get my shirt?" Mikkel asked. His hangover headache was etched in his face and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"You left it in the yard!" Anna said, oblivious to his pain. "Your pants too! Is that blood on your pants?"

"There might be some mud as well," Mikkel said, propping up his head with his hand. "I left them out so we can burn them. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Did you not see the blood last night when we brought the woman in?"

Markus ran his hand through his hair and frantically looked at each person in the room before landing on Anna. "Anna," he said, reaching for her and cradling her bloodied hands in his. "I'm so sorry! Here, we'll wash this off."

Ingrid hurried in the back door from the maid's quarters where she had been watching over the woman. "What happened?" She asked, her eyes wide and her face white.

"Anna did laundry," I said.

"His shirt is soaked with blood!" Anna said again, locking her wide eyes with her mother's. "So much blood! That's not just a bar fight that they were in. Someone is dead!"

Ingrid slid her now-wider eyes over to Mikkel, "Who did you kill?" She asked.

Mikkel closed his eyes to blink away the headache which was starting to bring out the blood vessels in his temples. "Can we just... bring the screaming down a notch?" he said.

"Who's dead?" Ingrid asked again, putting her hands on her hips and taking a step closer to him.

Mikkel sighed and pointed at the television which had just started to reloop the story. Ingrid and Anna turned their attention on it and watched with captivated gaze while the whole story played over again. By the time it had finished, Mikkel was asleep at the table and Anna's hands had dripped a puddle of watery blood into Markus's hands and onto the floor.

"Wow!" Markus said after the screen turned to a still image of the Eastenport city seal. "You two are heroes now." He smiled broadly and looked at Anna to make her smile back. She tried, but her smile was weak compared to his. "I feel bad I missed out on that one," Markus said. "I wouldn't mind becoming famous." He led Anna to the sink to wash her hands off, or rather, she led him. He had completely forgotten about the blood until she pulled him toward the sink.

"Let's not go around telling anyone anything about this," I said to Markus. "We have a Jaggar prostitute in the maid's quarters who needs to remain hidden and I, personally, do not want any Jaggars knocking on our door."

"That might happen either way," Cory said. She switched off the television and turned to me. "Wesley was there yesterday. He knew it was me."

"Wesley's still alive?" Markus said as Anna washed his hands for him in the sink. "Damn. Don't tell Mikkel. I had my money on him being dead."

"Mikkel knows," Mikkel said without opening his eyes. "And I need that money."

"He has to buy me a new flashlight," I said, jabbing him in the ribs with my elbow.

"No, I need to buy a motorcycle and pay off some scavengers to find me some things for the bar," He said without moving his head or opening his eyes. "You have your flashlight."

"Actually, Cory tells me you left it under the capital building. So now we have no flashlight."

"You have your kerosene lamps," he said.

"Why do you need a motorcycle?"

"Keep your voice down. I got rid of the limo."

"I'll buy you a bicycle," I said, more out of spite than logic.

The comment made him smile, though he still did not lift his head from the table or open his eyes. "Buy yourself a flashlight instead," he said.