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complained of a monstrous headache, his memory had more or
less returned. His voice was stronger and when he told the nurse
he was hungry, Katie gave a smile of relief, finally sure that he
was going to be okay.
Alex was released the next day, and the sheriff visited them at
Joyce’s to get their formal statements. He told them that the
alcohol content in Kevin’s blood was so high that he’d effectively
poisoned himself. Combined with the blood loss he’d suffered, it
was a wonder he had been conscious, much less coherent to any
degree. Katie said nothing, but all she could think was that they
didn’t know Kevin or understand the demons that drove him.
After the sheriff left, Katie went outside and stood in the sunlight,
trying to make sense of her feelings. Though she’d told the sheriff
about the events of that night, she hadn’t told him everything. Nor
had she told Alex everything—how could she, when it barely
made sense to her? She didn’t tell them that in the moments after
Kevin had died and she’d rushed to Alex’s side, she’d wept for
them both. It seemed impossible that even as she relived the terror
of those last hours with Kevin, she also remembered their rare
happy moments together—how they’d laughed at private jokes or
lounged peacefully on the couch together.
She didn’t know how to reconcile these conflicting pieces of her
past and the horror of what she’d just lived through. But there
was something more, too, something else she didn’t understand:
she’d stayed at Joyce’s because she was afraid to go back home.
Later that day, Alex and Katie stood in the parking lot, staring at
the charred remains of what had once been the store. Here and
there she could see items she recognized: the couch, half burned,
tilted on the rubble; a shelf that once housed groceries; a bathtub
scorched black.
A couple of firemen were rooting through the remains. Alex had
asked them to look for the safe he’d kept in his closet. He’d
removed the bandage and Katie could see the spot where they’d