I feel hot.
My two worst moments, both created by my gut either being right or being absolutely wrong.
Lee knows these moments.
He wasn’t there for the first, but he was for the second.
“What happened in Orlando wasn’t your fault,” Lee says after a moment. “You know that.”
There’s silence again, and it’s all from me now.
I decide to end it. “Thanks for helping,” I say, getting out of the car. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night and look at all of this with a cooler head tomorrow.”
Lee doesn’t press, though it sounds like he might want to do just that. Instead, he’s back to sounding like himself. “No problem, Baby Beau. Let me know if I can do it again.”
I tell him I will, and we end our call while I’m mounting the front porch stairs.
The main house needs a lot more work to it, more cleaning and elbow grease. The front door needs a good amount of WD-40 too, stopping a squeak that would do any horror movie proud. I need to go to Walmart again anyway. When Kissy found me in town that morning, I’d been leaving the local hardware store.
Bobsie’s Lend and Trade was the name. Not one I’d thought would belong to a hardware store, but it was listed online, and once in front of it today, the owner, an older man with gruff to spare, ushered me in. I was looking for a few odds and ends but left with only a roll of duct tape.
Duct tape I left on the kitchen bar.
That is now on the floor next to it.
I’d already turned the lights on in the living area. Since the space was all open, the light spills over to the tape and the rest of the kitchen.
I stop, keys in my hands still.
Had I put the tape down on its side and it rolled off?
I mentally tried to retrace my steps from earlier, but when I first got home from town, I was thinking of other things.
Kissy to be exact.
I scanned the rest of the house that I could see from where I stood. Nothing else seemed out of place. The door is locked, the windows all shut.
Maybe I’m overreacting.
Maybe I knocked it over on the way out.
I stay still moments longer.
The house remains quiet.
I listen to my gut. It’s still yelling about Guidry. So loud, I think about calling Kissy.
What would I even say?
I finally scoop up the duct tape and place it on the counter so it won’t roll away again.
That’s when I see the blood.
Not a lot, but there’s some on the tape. Right on the part of it that’s been torn.
My gut knows what to focus on now, and so do I.
I go for the baseball bat Maximus gave me when I was fourteen. It’s no service weapon, but it’s heavy when I pick it up from its spot against the wall next to the refrigerator. I almost didn’t bring it with me, but now I’m glad I did.
