Read Online The Killing Jar by Jennifer Bosworth - Free Book Online Page B

hadn’t saved them. I had damned them. I was the reason Thomas Dunn did what he did.
    I was the reason they had died in the first place.
    Then the door opened and the detective stepped inside. He was middle-aged, graying, twenty pounds overweight. His tired eyes pinned me down. “There you are,” he said. “I’m the detective handling your family’s case. I need to take your statement.”
    â€œCan we do it here?”
    He shook his head. “Just you and me.” He gestured impatiently for me to follow. “It won’t take long. Come on, let’s talk in the cafeteria, get some coffee. Your boyfriend can come, too,” he added with a half smile, as though he were trying to be charming.
    Reluctantly, I stood and followed him, my fever ramping up a few degrees. I wanted to take off Blake’s jacket, but it felt like a layer of armor, a protective shell. I curled my hands inside the sleeves.
    Blake waited in the hallway outside the room, pacing restlessly. When I emerged, he stopped pacing and moved to my side. He tried to take my hand, but I folded my arms and stuck my hands in my armpits.
    â€œI’m Detective Speakman, by the way,” the detective said. He held his hand out to me. I ignored it.
    â€œWhat do you want to know?” I asked. “You already have your man and he’s dead. What’s left to investigate?” What was left that didn’t call for an episode of The X-Files ?
    He raised his eyebrows at me, but lowered his hand, gazing at me with a blank expression. “I just need to get all the facts.”

 
    I T ’ S H APPENING A GAIN
    I spent the next hour sitting at a table in the cafeteria, sipping and cringing at incredibly bad coffee and picking at a stale Danish as I told Detective Speakman the abridged version of my story. Blake backed me up on all the parts for which he’d been present. The rest was mine to alter, since there were no witnesses to contradict my account.
    Finally, Detective Speakman closed his notebook and stashed it in the inside pocket of his suit coat. “So that’s it. You came home. You found your mom and sister wounded, blood everywhere. Thomas Dunn trapped you, and then you fell and blacked out and you don’t remember anything else.”
    â€œThat’s right.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see Blake studying me, trying to decide if I was lying, just like Detective Speakman was doing openly.
    The detective put his hands facedown on the table. “Well, I suppose that’s all then.” He pulled a card from his wallet and passed it to me. “If you or your family miraculously remember anything, be sure to give me a call.”
    â€œWe will,” I said, and the detective rose to leave. He started walking away from the table and then paused. “One more thing. Thomas Dunn’s son, Jason, the one who died seven years ago … you were the last person to see him alive?”
    I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral. Under the table, I clasped my hands together to keep them from shaking. Sweat gathered in my palms, making them slick.
    â€œWhen they found him, his body was desiccated, looked like all the moisture had been drained out of the tissue, just like his father’s after … well, after whatever you don’t remember happened to him. I find that to be a strange coincidence. A very strange coincidence. In my line of work strange coincidences usually have a connection. I just haven’t found it yet.”
    I tried to swallow but my throat had gone dry. “Maybe it runs in the family, like a genetic disorder.”
    â€œMaybe so,” the detective said. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”
    When he was gone, I exhaled and wrapped my arms around myself, bowing over the table and resting my forehead on the surface.
    â€œYou don’t look so good,” Blake said.
    Now I was both shivering and