Page 44 of 3rd Tango
JJ grabs my elbow, ushering me to Charlie’s mangled car. His long legs outpace my shorter ones so I double-time it to keep up.
“How did this happen?”
My sister is good behind the wheel. Being the security conscious—i.e. paranoid—sort, she’s put herself through defensive driving classes and could probably outmaneuver a Hollywood stuntman.
“They were heading to the lab to pick up DNA results.”
As we get closer, guys in blue polo shirts and khaki pants walk around the vehicle.
One pauses at the driver’s side door and stares at the window—or lack thereof.
The windshield, from my vantage point, is intact. This was a front end collision. How does the side get blown out and not the windshield.
I stop walking and point.
“Why the hell is there no window?” And wait one second. “The tire is flat.”
I make a move toward it, but JJ stops me. “You can’t.”
Watch me. “My mother and sister were in there. You’d better believe I can.”
“No, Meg. Seriously. You can’t. It’s a crime scene.”
My head lops forward, the weight straining my neck. What is hetalkingabout?
I shake my head. Maybe the stress is frying my brain. “I don’t understand. This was an accident, right?”
Please let him tell me it was.
JJ faces me. His arms are at his sides but the fingers of his right hand twitch. Whatever happened, it has him rattled.
And that, I haven’t seen very often.
“Someone took a shot at them.”
What did that mean exactly? “As in agunshot?”
“Yes.”
The word, three simple letters, assaults me. The ground shifts and I take a step back as my blood pressure plummets.
“Whoa.” JJ grabs my arm and I force myself to concentrate on the gesture. On him keeping me from losing my balance. On his steady gaze.
Anything to stay upright. My mother and sister need me and I refuse to let shock rule my reaction to this news.
I glance at the ambulance. A laceration. That’s what JJ said about mom. If she had a gunshot wound, they’d be on their way to the hospital already.
“Charlie,” I say. “She was hit.”
It comes out a statement. Somehow, I know it’s true. I feel it.
JJ wastes no time in nodding. “In the arm. She had her hand on the wheel.” He holds his left out to demonstrate. “She got hit here.” He points to his forearm. “The bullet went straight through and landed in the dashboard.”
“One shot?”
“Two, actually. The second hit the tire. Whoever it is, is a terrible shot.”
“Ma’am?”
