Long Gone Man by Phyllis Smallman Page A

stiff with tension and anger. She stared down at Singer.
    â€œWhy?” Singer asked.
    Lauren growled, “You’re the clever one, you tell me.”
    â€œAll right.” Singer pulled herself up a bit more, eyes locked on the woman leaning over her. “I don’t think they’ve found the gun that killed Johnny. That’s why they asked if we tampered with the one we gave them and why they’re searching the house and grounds. Maybe you came down here and threw the gun that killed Johnny out over the road to the ocean beyond, where it would never be found.”
    There was just one way back to safe ground and Lauren blocked it. With one kick, Lauren could send Singer crashing backwards to her death. Singer pulled herself up the steps, now more intent on the woman leaning over her than on the danger under her feet.
    Singer said, “But I don’t think you came down here to get rid of evidence.”
    â€œSo, Sherlock, tell me why.”
    â€œYou were going to kill yourself.”
    Singer’s words jolted Lauren back. She stood there like a statue, frozen with surprise, before reaching down and picking up Missy, burying her face in her pet’s soft fur. She swung sharply away.

Twenty
    Singer climbed the steps, breathing raggedly and not just because of the exertion. At the top she bent over, hands on her knees, and took some deep breaths. Then she followed Lauren and Missy towards the woods.
    At the large boulder marking the path, Lauren turned and waited for Singer. When Singer caught up, Lauren said, “Where did you come up with that crazy idea?”
    â€œYou told me that to get to Stevie’s to see Chris Ruston you went in the other direction, using the shortcut around the end of the lake. When you came back from Stevie’s, you must have walked past the house in the fog and come down here. That’s why you didn’t hear the shot. You weren’t in the house. That gazebo thing is below the house, so the sound would pass over it.”
    Lauren didn’t respond.
    Singer studied Lauren’s face. “It wasn’t a night for a walk and that’s not a place to be in the dark. In fact, going down there was a really dangerous thing to do on a foggy night. It makes me shiver to think of it.”
    Missy whimpered and struggled to free herself. Lauren leaned over and set her down. “I had a flashlight.” She didn’t look at Singer as she spoke. “You need a flashlight to go to Steven’s at night.”
    Singer blew out a lungful of air. “Well, you had a pisser of a night, didn’t you . . . dumped by a guy, thoughts of suicide, and then finding Johnny dead.”
    Lauren unsnapped the leash from Missy’s collar and put the strip of red leather in her pocket. “You forgot meeting a crazy woman.”
    Singer thought about the zigzagging road below. “While you stood here, thinking of throwing yourself off, you saw me coming.”
    â€œIt was foggy remember.”
    â€œBut the lights would have shown.”
    Lauren hunched deeper into her jacket, drawing her shoulders up.
    â€œThat’s probably what brought you to your senses. Maybe I even saved your life. You saw light glowing through the fog, shining in the darkness where no light should be. It was enough to make you stop. Strange to think that a life could hang by such a random thread.”
    Lauren snorted in disgust, but she didn’t deny it.
    Singer watched Missy snuffling under the leaves. “And then there’s Missy. You’d have been leaving Missy alone. You’d never do that.”
    â€œOnly a moment’s craziness. Don’t make a big deal of it.”
    â€œIt does explain how you knew I hadn’t shot Johnny, explains why you agreed to go along with my alibi idea.” Singer studied Lauren. “And here I thought I had to work hard to convince you.”
    Lauren grinned. “Well, just so you know, I didn’t kill