If She Should Die by Carlene Thompson Page A

you’re not protesting too much.” Christine looked down and took a deep breath, wondering just how largewas that ugly tendril of doubt about her own brother’s innocence. “But I understand why you’re upset. And I agree that Jeremy has to stop talking so much about Dara. You’ve got to keep him busy at the store. And let him stay at your house a lot. He can also spend some time with me. He likes computers.”
    Christine looked at Streak gratefully. She knew how much he valued his routines and his privacy.
    “He’ll love getting to visit you.” Christine plunged her hands in her pockets. “And I’ll love getting away from here tonight. This mist is giving me the creeps.”
    “I thought you women loved mists like on the moors in
Wuthering Heights
.”
    “You can have your mists and your moors, Streak. I prefer hot, sunny days.”
    They both turned to look at Jeremy tramping back through the undergrowth. “Rhiannon’s hiding really good tonight,” he said. “I couldn’t find her.”
    “How did you get her here with you in the first place?” Christine asked.
    “Easy. I put her in the basket on my bike. I wrapped her up in that little wool blanket you have in her bed and left her head out. She loves to ride that way.”
    “She also loves to climb,” Streak said, gazing beyond Christine. “She’s running up that old wild cherry tree after a squirrel.”
    “Oh, wonderful,” Christine moaned. “We’ll never get her.”
    “I can,” Jeremy assured her. “I’m great at climbing trees.”
    “Not that one,” Christine warned. “It’s old and fragile and covered with damp honeysuckle vines.”
    “The vines aren’t blooming,” Jeremy argued, standing beside the tree.
    “They’re still slippery.”
    “It’ll be okay.”
    “No, it won’t. Jeremy! Streak, stop him!”
    Streak ran to the tree, but Jeremy was already four feet off the ground. Short of grabbing his ankles and yanking him loose, Streak couldn’t get Jeremy down. “If that tree starts creaking under your weight, drop immediately,” Streak ordered. “I’ll catch you.”
    “I’m too heavy! I’d mash you flat, Streak Archer!” Jeremy laughed. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
    Christine closed her eyes, envisioning the tree along with Jeremy crashing into the flooded creek below. Jeremy was an excellent swimmer, but if the tree fell on top of him . . .
    “The squirrel went in a hole and Rhi’s trying to go after it!” Jeremy called. “C’mere, you little witch cat. You’re not going in that hole!” Christine heard an enraged
meow
before Jeremy yelled, “Got her! Oh! Here’s something else!”
    “Leave the something else and come down right now,” Streak said. “It could be a snake.”
    “It’s not a snake or an animal.”
Meow
and
hiss
from Rhiannon.
Creak
and
groan
from the tree. Christine held her breath. “It’s something in plastic!” Jeremy called.
    Plastic? Christine’s thoughts immediately jumped to the plastic shroud on the corpse in the river. “Jeremy, come down this instant!” she ordered. “Leave the cat and the plastic thing.”
    “You always think I’m gonna get hurt.” Jeremy began his descent. “I’m
fine
. I know how to climb a tree.” As he neared the bottom, Rhiannon leaped from Jeremy’s arms, throwing an obligatory enraged hiss at Christine and Streak before she ran to the side of the road and began vigorously grooming. While his feet were still three feet aboveground, Jeremy let go of the tree and thudded into the weeds, dragging a handful of honeysuckle vines with him.
    Christine’s patience finally snapped into shrill carping: “Well, I hope that was worth it, Jeremy! You’re a
mess
! Do you know how dangerous that was? You could have fallen in the creek! You’ve probably sprained your ankle—”
    “Gosh, Christy, will you chill out?” Jeremy stood up and scraped off the damp, clinging vines. “Let’s look at this thing in plastic.”
    “I don’t want to