7
Cassie
He let go of me and I focused on his broad shoulders, the black silk of his long hair where he’d tied it at the back of his neck. I didn’t look at Mr. Anderson. I didn’t need to see him like that again, was afraid I’d never get the sight out of my memory. I listened to Maddox’s heavy footfalls as he approached the body, then stopped. I stared blankly at the wall, at the faded dark green vine and yellow daisy pattern of the wallpaper that had lined the hallway for as long as I could remember.
My mind longed for something to do, for the comfort of routine and I considered starting the fire in the stove, for it was well past six. My hands twisted together at my waist and I immediately dismissed the idea as a fool’s errand. There was no need to cook. No need for coffee or breakfast
