Stella was looking at her, but all she could see was Jamie’s head blown apart. Fuck.
“Ma’am, at least wear these gloves, please.” The officer shoved some latex gloves at Millie, then stood in the doorway, watching.
“Hold your hands up.”
Stella did as she was told mechanically. When she lifted her arms up, something warm and reddish dripped off the sleeve and onto her head. She thought about vomiting again.
“Skin the cat,” Millie said as she pulled Stella’s shirt carefully over her head, trying not to get any of the blood and skin on Stella.
“What?”
“What?” Millie asked, confused.
“What did you say about a cat?” Stella questioned.
“Oh, my grandmother used to say that to me when she took my shirt off.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Mil.”
“I guess it doesn’t.” She chuckled. “Made you laugh, though. Can you get your pants? I don’t have any sayings for that.”
“I got it.” Stella wrenched off her soaked jeans and put them in the bag.
“Put those clothes on.” She pointed to the clothes she’d put on the bed. “Here you go.” Millie shoved the bags at the cop and gave Stella another glance before pushing him into the hall and closing the door behind her.
Stella pulled on Millie’s jeans; they were sort of tight and she didn’t think she could button the button. She took them back off and rummaged through Patrick’s things to find some workout pants. She slipped those on and pulled the drawstring to tie herself in. Then she put on the t-shirt Millie had given her. It was royal blue and read, “This is what awesome looks like.” Stella almost laughed at the irony of it and opened the door. She ran smack into Agent Harris.
“We should stop meeting this way, Stella.” His eyes gave nothing away as he took her in.
“Agent Harris, what’re you doing here?” She stepped backward back into Patrick’s room. Anger boiled inside her fear, inside her confusion; her mind was in so many places she had no idea what to think.
“Well, you know I got reassigned after putting the guy involved in the terrorist attack in Montana away, and then I was leading the investigation that you were involved in. When they shut that down, I got promoted and just happened to be in the neighborhood when I heard the police radio. Then I got the call about an ATF agent shot at this address, so I thought I’d swing by, see if I could help.”
She just stared at him; gawked, really. Her brain wasn’t working properly; every time she closed her eyes just to think, she saw Jamie. Why do I feel bad? I wanted him gone. Regardless, she sure as hell didn’t want to talk to this FBI asshole. Agent Fucking Harris threw her under the bus. All she wanted was a shower. “You were promoted…” she repeated. “Swing by? You just happened to be in the fucking neighborhood?”
“Well, interesting things always seem to happen around you. I thought I’d move close.” He smiled; it made her uncomfortable. “I’ve got some questions for you.” He motioned toward the kitchen table.
“Hold on just a minute!” an older City of Alexandria police officer called from the den. “This isn’t your jurisdiction.”
“Federal agent shot!” Harris called back. “I believe it is my jurisdiction.”
“Fuck, that’s a federal agent?”
“Yep.” Agent Harris took out his notepad and pen.
“Well, can we at least let one of ours sit in for the witness interviews?” the cop bargained.
“You bet. I always want to work with the locals.” Agent Harris nodded. “You ready, Stella?”
“I have blood all over me. Do I look fucking ready for an interrogation?” Stella erupted.
“Let me just get a preliminary statement from you and then we’ll get you out of here. The media is going to shit themselves with this one.” His tone was sympathetic but his eyes were alight with interest; it wasn’t every day this sort of case came around. Also, Jamie’s death solved many problems, for the ATF and the FBI...
Her thoughts turned inward and she felt utterly lost and completely defeated. “Let me grab a water and sit down,” she agreed.
Millie got water for everyone and they all sat at the kitchen table: Stella, Millie, Agent Harris, and the older Alexandria cop.
Stella took a gulp of water and motioned to Harris. “Ask away.”
“Tell me what happened,” Agent Harris said.
“Millie and I were watching some chick movie and Jamie busted through the back door. He wanted me to come with him; seems he found out about my conversations with you somehow.” Her eyes narrowed at him. “He punched me, then threw me on the floor of the den on the table.” She pointed at the broken table and wine on the floor and the wall.
“Wait. Did he throw you on the floor or the table?”
“The table. It broke and I landed on the floor. I think. It’s hard to remember everything clearly when you’re getting your ass kicked.”
“Jamie?”
Stella shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Jack.”
“You get any shots in?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Wine bottle to the chin I think.” She looked at Millie. Millie nodded in agreement.
“You see all this?” Harris asked Millie.
Millie nodded again.
Harris turned to the officer. “Take her to a separate room and interview her.” He looked back at Stella. “What next?”
Taking another gulp of water, Stella watched Millie walk to the front of the house with the officer. Her mind was going a mile a minute and she was trying to quiet it, trying to count and breathe, but her body was betraying her, her hands starting to shake and her legs feeling weak.
“He was forcing me out the front door and I was just about to brace my legs on either side of it. I wasn’t leaving with him, you know? Then I heard a weird sound, felt something wet on my face, and he let go of me. When he let me go, I looked down and realized parts of his face were on my face. Then I passed out. The end.”
“The end,” he mimicked.
“Yep.” Stella stood up. “Can we go now? It’s been a very long night and I’m pretty sure I have a concussion. If you need anything you can call my attorney, Greg Cotter.”
“Stella, did you see where the shot came from?”
She shook her head.
“Did you see anyone in front of the house?”
She shook her head.
“Do you need my attorney’s number?” She started walking to where Millie stood speaking with the cop.
“Stella?” Harris called, stopping her.
“Yes.”
His eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, then give me, Millie and Cooper a ride home. It’s the least you can do for our fucking troubles.” The night, the week, the years all began pressing on her as she stood there; she needed to escape. All of her defenses, all of her fake smiles, they couldn’t help her now.
“Where’s your car?” he asked, putting his pen in his pocket.
“Cooper and I walked; he needed some exercise time,” she said, looking at Cooper, still comfortable as could be on the floor of Patrick’s room with his new bone.
“Sure, but you know I’m going to need for you to come to the Department tomorrow to get the rest of your statement.”
“Fine. I just want to get out of here. I want a shower.” Stella was shaking and desperately trying to hide it. She walked to Millie’s room and pulled on one of Patrick’s hoodies. It was huge and smelled like him; she shoved her hands in the pockets to hide her trembling hands. Her lip was threatening to shake and her body racked with anxiety, fear, and utter devastation. She sobbed loudly and then covered her head with both her sleeved hands.