Conflict of Interest

Chapter Twenty Two

Carrie

I didn't really want to be here, but I didn't know where else to go. In fact, I'd been avoiding this house pretty much since it had been purchased. My sister's cold pre-fab was so pretentious even I would refuse to live in it, and that was a profound statement, given my affinity for pretentious real estate.

I didn't see Byron's car in the driveway, which I silently cheered for as I wasn't feeling up to faking my way through a conversation where I pretended to care about his failing political endeavors. I could deal with faking it with Jacqueline, but that was about as much as I could manage.

After I'd rung the bell once, I heard movement inside and found myself shifting slightly on my feet. I shouldn't have felt uneasy visiting my own flesh and blood; after all, if this had been the first place I'd turned, clearly I still felt some sort of a bond with her. But visiting on her own grounds was just a different experience.

She opened the door a little bit, then a little bit more upon seeing me on the other side.

"Wow, Carrie," was what she said, obviously as surprised at my presence here as I was. To reiterate, I didn't visit my sister very often. "Come in."

"Thanks," I managed, following her inside. It shouldn't have surprised me that I'd caught her in the middle of cleaning; genetics are a powerful thing. Still, I wondered why she wasn't working, and where the hell her money came from if she was never knee deep in paper work the way I was every day.

"Can I get you a drink?" she asked as though I were a guest of honor in her home; or, maybe she was just trying to showcase her hostess skills. "I have Perrier, or Vitamin Water, or black tea with agave..."

She ran down the list of all her white people beverages only for me to decline them all, not really wanting to prolong my visit. I was supposed to be at the office anyhow.

"So what brings you by?" she asked, probably because "Just wanted to say hi" was out of the question.

I sat down across from her, not knowing how to start and opting to just cut to the chase. "Rebecca Devere was raped and murdered last night."

I saw all the blood drain from her face, at which point it came across me that not everyone worked in criminal law and heard these things day and night. Too little too late, I suppose.

"She...what?"

"Yeah."

"How--"

"I don't know."

"And who--"

"I don't know," I repeated. "Kim's working on it now."

"Who?"

"Never mind."

"Oh my God," she marvelled. "Carrie, I'm so sorry."

"No, don't be. It was years ago. I haven't even seen her since--"

"Yeah, I know. But you...I mean..."

"I know," I said, not needing to be told about my own life. "But, that's over."

"Come on, Carrie," she urged. "Tell me what's really going on. You're obviously not okay."

"Fine," I relented. "What's really going on? I went to the crime scene, I saw the body, I held it together there...Then I reprimanded a detective, threw up on the way here, that's how I realized that all I've consumed in the past twelve hours is black coffee. I've had a headache since five this morning. Now I'm here being interrogated by my sister, and I really wish she'd stop asking about my feelings and tend to the matter at hand."