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turned away, sweeping the revolver from side to side. |
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Trev crawled toward her. She swung around and jabbed the muzzle against his forehead. 'Mind your manners, pal,' she said. Taking a step backward, she straightened up and looked toward the doorway. 'Come on in, Rhonda. Nothing in here's gonna hurt you.' |
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The girl stepped inside and shut the door. She gazed into the living room. 'Are they dead?' she asked. |
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Perplexed, Trev got to his feet. He looked past Sandy. A teenaged girl lay sprawled on the sofa. One arm hung toward the floor. Trev saw no blood on her tan corduroys or white blouse. She looked as if she might be asleep. But if she'd been sleeping, the clamor of their break-in should've shocked her wide awake. |
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An adult male was slumped in a reclining chair in a corner of the room. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, a pale blue sport shirt, dark slacks and black socks. A book lay open on his chest as if he'd dropped asleep while reading. |
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Nobody else was in the room. |
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'I reckon we got the right house,' Sandy said, her voice low. |
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He'd never seen any of the Chidi family except Maxwell, the boy dead and charred, bound to the goalpost. But these two were probably his sister and father. It wasn't likely that Trev had gotten the address wrong. And there were only a few black families in town. |
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Not really black, he thought as he stared at the girl. |
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