What Nobody Else Sees

chapter forty eight

Callie hadn't moved from her spot on the living room floor in hours. The house was spotless. No dog fur or dust floating in the air, every bed neatly made, her textbooks organized on the desk. There was nothing left for her.

So, she sat with her dog's face in her lap and waited. The hours passed in silence, save for the low drone of the television. She stood only to prepare Max's dinner, as well as her own. There wasn't much in the house. She hadn't made the long drive to Walmart in over a week, and groceries were beginning to dwindle. Maybe she would go later that week.

She ate her ramen noodles, alone. It wasn't much different than how she had spent her dinners before his death.

Outside, she heard the rumble of a truck. She rose from her spot on the floor and walked to the door, peering cautiously out the blinds.

Sam's light blue truck parked outside, near the woods.

She was going to leave soon. Soon. It would all be over soon.

Instructing Max to sit inside, she stepped out, shutting the screen door behind her. She walked down the back porch steps, wiping her clammy hands on her green shorts.

Sam shut the truck door. He nodded at her like he had never left at all, not in '80, not earlier in the week. "Evening."

She folded her arms over her chest, rocking on the balls of her feet. "I'm sorry to drag you home like this," she called as he walked across the lawn to meet her. She meant it.

Sam shook his head, slinging his jean jacket over his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, I was planning on coming back anyways."

Callie blinked in surprise. He had been planning on coming back?

He stopped in front of her. There were bags under his eyes. "Callie."

She tipped her head back. "Sam," she muttered. "How was Memphis?"

He winced, running a hand through his hair. "Well, you see... my boss is dead."

"Excuse me?" she said, a hand on her heart. That explained why he was back.

He shrugged. "There was an incident. He gets real paranoid from time to time, convinced himself I was a traitor, tried to kill me."

If her brother was on the run for murder, she would rather he didn't stay with her. Having two murderers in one house wasn't the best idea. "You killed him?" she asked nervously.

"No, I didn't kill him," he said, fidgeting with his hands again. Just as she had thought it couldn't get any worse. "Ok, Callie, what kind of mental state are you in?"

She raised an eyebrow, not having the energy to be offended. "Sam, what kinda question is that?"

He held up his hands. "Fair enough. As I was saying, I wasn't the one who killed Jackson. No, it was this kid from the group, he killed Jackson for me," he said, staring at Callie like he was worried she might kill him too. "I've got him with me. He's waiting in the truck."

"What?" Callie shrieked, looking past Sam to try and see inside the truck. "You brought a guy that killed someone to my house? As I am actively involved in a missing persons case? What the hell is wrong with you?"
Sam grabbed her by the shoulders, only startling her slightly. "Callie, Cal, calm down. I couldn't just leave him there."

She stared at him expectantly. "Why not? I get he saved your life and all-,"

He cut her off, desperately exclaiming, "He's only fifteen!"

That was enough to shut her up. Her face fell, looking once more towards the truck. "Fifteen?" she whispered.

Fifteen was already such a delicate, difficult age. She had been fifteen when Sam left, and it made her life a living hell. She couldn't imagine being fifteen, surrounded by crime and death.