On the hour drive I dialed and redialed Karalyn’s number, but she wasn’t picking up. I made my way west toward Queen’s Dock, speeding through a dangerous amount of red lights in the process. By the time I turned down her street it was a little past two in the morning. The thought had occurred to me to call Detective Juarez, but honestly I didn’t think he would want to be bothered with me at this point. He probably wouldn’t even believe me.

            The gate was open so I pulled Douglas up the circle driveway and ran up the cobblestone walk toward the huge oak door. I ignored the creepy feeling of being watched again (I was getting used to it anyway) and rang the doorbell, but got no answer. The whole house was dead quiet and covered in darkness except for the porch light and a single light shining from a room on the second floor. I started pounding on the door.

            “Karalyn!”  I tried to be quiet as I didn’t want to alert the neighbors to the crazy person trying to break into their neighbor’s house. Okay, plan B.

            I started searching around for a good hiding place for a spare key. I looked under the flower pot, under the mat, and under a suspicious looking rock that turned out to be an actual rock. Damn, no luck. Maybe I’d get lucky and find another window.

            “What are you doing?”

            I gave an abrupt yelp then spun around, nearly losing my balance in the process. Standing behind me was Johnny, looking about as shabby and irritable as he usually did. My hand went to my chest in an effort to calm my erratic heartbeat.

            “What in the holy blue hell is wrong with you? Make a noise when you walk!”

            “Sorry.” He shrugged, unconcerned. “What are you doing?”

            “If you must know, Mr. Nosy Britches, I’m trying to warn my friend but she’s not answering and it’s urgent.”

            “Urgent, you say?” He walked closer and nonchalantly picked up the rock. “You can get in the old fashion way.” I stared at him.

            “That rock’s real, I already looked for a key.”

            He rolled his eyes at me. “No genius, throw the rock through a window.”

            “I’m not looking to commit a crime.”

            “You do know it’s against the law to enter someone’s home without permission, even if you had found a key.”

            “Okay, then I just don’t want to cause property damage.” He sighed at this.

            “Fine, why do you have to make everything difficult? Got a couple bobby pins?” He tossed the rock aside.

            “Why?”

            “I’m gonna pick the lock.”

            “Wait a minute. A mysterious drifter who goes from town to town leaving no trails and putting down no roots that has an envelope full of money and you just happen to know how to pick locks. Johnny, are you a cat burglar?”

            “No. You got a bobby pin or not?”

            “I do.” I jogged the short distance back to Douglas and retrieved my purse from the passenger seat. Since my hair can be pretty out of control I often break hair clips and rubber bands so I usually keep a couple spares on me. I grabbed a handful and returned to where Johnny had crouched in front of Karalyn’s deadbolt.

            I opened my palm in front of him and he took two of the bobby pins. He took a little time to bend them into his desired shape, then went to work fidgeting with the lock.

            “So,” I said as I watched him. “It’s a little suspicious that you’re on this side of town at this time of night.”

            “Says the woman trying to break into someone’s house.”

            “Point taken, but still…I’m trying to warn a friend and you’re just here…”

            But he didn’t say anything. I watched him work, a little mesmerized at just how he got here and why he would be in the richest neighborhood in town at this hour when a thought occurred to me.

            “Hey, you aren’t the one that’s been following me are you?” His hands suddenly stopped and his shoulders tensed. “You are! Why?”

            “Look I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of creepy stalker or anything. It’s just that you helped me before and you are dealing with a murderer and something could have happened-“

            “Oh my God, you were worried about me. You do care.” I was touched, really. “To think I have my own grumpy little guardian angel watching out for me.”

            “I never intended to follow you. I was in the neighborhood, that’s all.” He started working again.

            “So,” I said. “Since you’re not a cat burglar, how did you learn to pick locks?”

            “I worked as a locksmith up in Maine for a few months. I end up doing a lot of odd jobs. That’s what I’m doing out here; working.” At two in the morning?

            His hands worked delicately on the lock and after another minute it gave and turned. He stood and moved aside as I turned the knob, astonished that he’d actually managed to open the door. I looked back at my accomplice but he was easing further back off the porch.

            “What’s wrong?” I nodded toward the inside of the dark house. “Let’s go.”

            “Sorry, Girlie. You’re on your own for this one. I can’t successfully stay off the radar if I go to jail for you.” He turned around and sat on the stoop with a huff. “I’d rather wait for you here. You can give me a ride home when you finish whatever business you got.”

            I sighed. “Fine.” I didn’t have time to argue with him, so focusing my attention back to the matter at hand I walked inside the house. I made my way through the dreadful pink sitting room, which in the cover of night was more purple than pink, and approached a pretty spectacular staircase.

            The air was still and quiet. I figured at this time of night Karalyn might be asleep. She’d left a table lamp on in the hallway that gave the dimness just enough illumination to be manageable. I briefly wondered if it was as old and fragile as the lamp I’d broken before.

            I lay a hand gently on the banister then looked upward toward the second floor. The light from the room upstairs cast eerie shadows along the wall. Suddenly I was scared. Why hadn’t I made Johnny come with me? I’m sure I could have bullied him into it, his cranky exterior is intimidating but underneath he’s a total pushover.

            I briefly considered going back out and dragging him back in with me, but I felt like I’d bothered him enough. Besides, I was already halfway through the house, might as well keep moving forward.

            All I had to do was wake up Karalyn, then the two of us would drive to the police station and explain this whole mess to the cops. They’d keep Karalyn safe then go after the true murderer. Jackson would be off the hook and all would end well. Simple.

            “Karalyn?” I called timidly up the stairs. No answer.

            Taking a deep breath I shook off the foreboding feeling forming in the pit of my stomach and started the careful trek up the stairs. Once on the second floor I walked a ways down the darkened hallway and around a corner until I was in front of the room I’d seen from outside. A slither of brightness peeked from the crack underneath. I knocked timidly.

            “Karalyn,” I said loudly. “It’s me, Evelyn Harper. If you’re loaded, don’t shoot.”

            No answer. I turned the knob and opened the door, slowly peeking my head in first. I could see Karalyn lying on the side of a large fluffy looking bed with a cream colored bed spread. She was on the side farthest from me, her back to me, sleeping. I opened the door all the way and walked in.

            “Karalyn?” I tiptoed closer to the bed. “Karalyn?” I said louder.

            Geez talk about your heavy sleepers. It looked like I’d have to shrug her awake. I walked the full length of the room until I got to the bed then ambled around to the other side so I could reach her.

            That’s when I realized she was dead. It wasn’t so much her face, as that was hidden by a barrage of fluffy white pillows. No, what tipped me off was the massive amounts of brain matter that had blown all over the floor and up part of the wall!

            I instantly stepped back until my view was obscured by the large frame of the bed. Bending over cautiously at the waist I tried to settle my suddenly woozy stomach. I put a trembling hand over my lips and took deep breaths. I’m going to throw up.

            I have to stay calm or I’m going to lose it. I need to get out of here. I need to call for help. But whatever I do I certainly do not need to look back at the bloody mess that was Karalyn.

            But as soon as the thought is in my head my eyes are roaming back over the hideous scene in front of me. I take it in completely this time. Copious heaps of human tissue litters the floor in countless tiny piles of mush. It’s all over the nightstand, lamp, the floor, and even up part of the wall. The blood from her skull has pooled in a small puddle under the bed, though most of it has seeped into her comforter; turning the cream color into a cherry brown.

            I hadn’t noticed at first since I’d been so focused on Karalyn’s large slumping form, which I now saw, had been seemingly unhinged on one side of her face. On the other side was the wound from what I assume to be a bullet grazing her temple. Man, I thought watching Bo die had been bad. But a slower death by poison wasn’t near as traumatizing as seeing someone’s insides on the outside.

            I felt the bile rising to the back of my throat again and averted my gaze before I barfed all over the crime scene. My mind was in crisis control mode telling me to go downstairs and call for help. It’s too bad the rest of me was in panic mode. Suddenly, I heard an uncontrolled scream. Where is that coming from?

            Is that me? Oh shit it is. Before I knew it I was screaming like some idiot in a horror movie. I screamed so loud my throat started hurting.

            Okay, stop! Calm down girl. Take deep, slow breaths. This is the perfect opportunity to use that nifty little invention known as the cell phone and call for help. Without thinking I called the first number in my speed dial.

            He picked up by the fourth ring. “Hey, what’s going on?”

            “Henry, Karlyn’s dead!” My voice rose in alarm.

            “What?!”

            “I’m at her house. Someone shot her. There’s all this blood-“

            “Okay, here’s what you do. Calm down. Hang up and call the cops.”

            “But…I don’t know if he’ll believe me. I was so terrible. I’m probably blacklisted by now.”

            “Evie, trust me.” He voice was so low and steady that I actually calmed down a little. “I know you’re scared but they will come. They have to.”

            He had a point and I would have told him so if out of the corner of my eye I hadn’t caught sight of the killer standing in the darkness of the doorway, gun in hand.

****************************************************************************

Edits (In case you read those chapters before I made the changes):

-I went back and wrote in that in addition to the canvases, Evie finds a manila envelope full of hundreds. This is implied to be the money Johnny makes working odd jobs. She puts it back but notes that it's suspicious.

-When Evie and Johnny are in the cafe I make him say sorry for yelling at her when he catches her snooping in his room. Upon reread, I noticed that he seemed more jerky than I meant so I had him say sorry for scaring her. And now they're on good terms.

-I meant to imply in earlier chapters that Evie felt like she was being followed. In case you don't remember (I'm worried I was too vague and will have to make it more clear later), this chapter we learn that person is Johnny, her own grumpy little guardian angel.