All Good People Here by Ashley Flowers

All Good People Here by Ashley Flowers

Author:Ashley Flowers [Flowers, Ashley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2022-08-16T00:00:00+00:00


EIGHTEEN

Krissy, 1994

It was midafternoon on the day after January was murdered when Detectives Lacks and Townsend escorted Krissy, Billy, and Jace from the Hillside Inn back to their house. It had, apparently, been fully inspected, documented, and cleared out—ready to be inhabited once again. In the back of the unmarked police car, Jace sat between his parents, and Krissy spent the ride pressed against the window, simultaneously trying to avoid his touch and trying to appear as if she weren’t.

When they turned the corner onto their street, Krissy’s breath caught in her throat. Both sides of the road were lined with media vans, news channel logos printed on their sides in bold fonts. Krissy read the logos, feeling dizzier with each one. Some she’d never heard of—WRTV, WNDU, Channel 4 News—but there were some anyone would recognize—CBS, ABC. At the start of the long driveway to their house was a wall of media: overweight men with sagging waistbands, enormous cameras perched on shoulders; their on-air counterparts, thin, sleek women with hard eyes and perfect hair, holding microphones and smoothing their blouses with flat palms. They looked like beetles, scuttling around each other, their equipment black and glinting.

Townsend directed the car into the horde, inching forward in sickening lurches, laying on the horn—an annoyed Moses parting the Red Sea. Krissy watched in horror as the swarm of reporters circled the car, swallowing it like a single organism. By the time Townsend shifted into park, they were surrounded once again. From her seat in shotgun, Lacks turned to face them, her gaze flicking between Krissy and Billy. “One of you should hold Jace’s hand. And get ready to run.”

Before Krissy could do anything, before she could take a breath or arrange any particular look on her face, the two detectives were out of the car and swinging open the back doors, and the cacophony beyond slammed into them like a wave. Jace slid his little hand into her own and Krissy forced herself not to shake him off. And then they were out of the car and the three of them were following the detectives as they darted through a tunnel of reporters, blinded by flashes.

“We’re sorry about January!” so many voices called in manic, detached tones that belied the sentiment of the words. Far from sorry, they seemed downright gleeful. “What was she like?” “Tell us about her!” “What happened two nights ago?” “Who do you think murdered your daughter?”

Townsend led them up the stairs of the porch, ushered them inside, and slammed the door shut behind them. Instantly, the swell of voices in the yard turned muffled and faint. Krissy dropped Jace’s hand.

“What the fuck was that?” Billy spat, a trembling finger pointed at the front door.

“Billy,” Krissy snapped, dipping her head toward Jace. She bent down in front of her son, her hands clasped around his wrists, her eyes on the collar of his shirt because she couldn’t look him in the eye. “Jace, can you go to your



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