Page 71 of Kyle
"I need some air."
"I'll go with you."
"Not out the front." Matthew announced. "The press is out there in full."
His eyes met Kyle's.
"They caught the son of a bitch who shot her. The asshole still had the gun on him."
"Where is he?"
"In custody. I'm heading out shortly to sit in on the interrogation. Cal--"
He broke off abruptly as the entire room turned to look at him.
"I'll walk out with you."
He waited until they were in the hallway. It had been two hours since the horrible news and words like, "baby in distress," "concussion," "bullet through and through," "internal bleeding" had filtered through Kyle's mind. He was numb and wondered if it would pass.
"I didn't want to say anything in there."
They passed a couple huddled together weeping. All around the scent and sound of misery pushed through the disinfectant and Lysol. Nothing masked the pall of sickness.
"He's a junkie and is making noises that he was paid to take Ingrid out."
The other two men stopped abruptly.
"What?"
Easing out a breath, Matthew rushed on.
"He's saying that he was hired by Carly Jennings."
Kyle's world reeled and tilted. Hands reached for him and pulled him into an empty waiting room.
"Breathe." His father said briskly.
"Carly paid someone to kill my wife? Why?"
"We're not sure if what the guy said is true. He's rambling about being a onetime neighbor of the actress and that he was paid five hundred in cash to get rid of her. His name is Billy something and he's insisting that it wasn't his idea."
"I need air."
He pushed away and hurried from the room, with the two men behind him. He headed unerringly for the chapel, ignoring the looks from the medical staff and the people in the waiting room.
"You got this?" Matthew asked Jason as they entered the sanctuary. "I need to go and find out if this is true."
"Go ahead. We'll keep you updated."
With a nod, Matthew walked out after touching his brother-in-law briefly on the arm. Jason gave him space and waited in silence while his son sat and stared up at the beleaguered looking depiction of the Savior with his arms spread and the red marks indicating blood loss.
He had been here himself and it seemed like yesterday. The memories came back painful and brutal.
"I did this."
He climbed out of his own misery to look at his son, his heart constricting at the acute misery and pain on his face. In avery short time, pain and grief had etched grooves between his cheeks. His face was pale and ashen, his hands shaking.
"You don't know that. The bastard might be looking for someone to blame."
