Murder Under Cover by Kate Carlisle

perky.”
    “Perky. Good one.” She wrung out the sponge more vigorously than necessary, then tossed it into its holder. Clutching the edge of the counter until her knuckles went white, she finally looked at me. “I’m afraid, Brooklyn.”
    “Of course you are,” I said, clutching her arm. “You’ve been pushed through the wringer. But you’re also mad as hell, remember? You’re going to bounce back and be ready to kick some ass, right?”
    “Oh, yeah, I’m a real ass kicker,” she said sarcastically, and grabbed the dish cloth from me. She dried her hands off, then leaned against the sink. “The truth is, I’m totally freaked out. I don’t want to see or talk to anyone. I just want to hide in my room and sleep.”
    “You can stay here as long as you want.”
    “What about my apartment?”
    I thought about the glimpse I’d gotten of Robin’s place and just managed to control a shudder. “You’ll go back when you’re ready.”
    “I’m not sure I want to live there anymore.”
    “Not right now you don’t, and I totally get that. But it’s your home. Eventually . . .”
    She shook her head as she stared at the floor. “I’m too afraid to go back.”
    “So you’ll stay here. But I guarantee, after a few days you’ll be itching to get back there.”
    Robin didn’t look convinced. If anything, she seemed to be shrinking into herself. “What if the killer returns? What if I can’t get the blood out of the floorboards or the carpet? I close my eyes and all I see is the blood. I don’t want to live there with all those bad vibes and memories.”
    “Okay, first of all, the killer won’t be back, because we’re going to hunt him down and make him wish he’d never been born.” I’d never been more serious in my life. Robin had escaped the killer, thank God, but whoever had murdered Alex had killed something inside my friend, too. And that I couldn’t stomach. Seeing Robin shaken, afraid, was tearing at my heart. “Your apartment can be cleaned. There are companies that come in and take care of that stuff. We can paint every room. We’ll go shopping, buy new carpets, sheets, towels, pillows, new clothes, whatever you need to purge the place of any trace that something bad ever happened there.”
    Scowling, she threw the towel on the counter. “That’s easy for you to say.”
    “Well, yeah, it is,” I said, glancing around at my own apartment. I’d faced a coldhearted killer, too, right here in my home. I’d managed to avoid spilling any blood, though, thank goodness. It had been hard enough to reclaim my sense of safety and security without having the memory of blood to color everything.
    “How about this?” I said. “We’ll have my mom do a purification ceremony. We can all prance around with clumps of burning sage and smudge the place clean.”
    She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Because, really, the image of my crazy mom dancing around, ponytail bouncing, waving sage, and chanting to ward off evil spirits? It was pretty funny.
    Her smile was short-lived. “Look, I appreciate the attempt at humor, but you’ve never had to deal with . . .” She stopped talking as she noticed my eyes narrow down to slits. “Okay, um, I take that back.”
    “Damn straight you’ll take that back.” I leaned against the refrigerator door and folded my arms. “You know what I went through when that psycho killer showed up at my house.”
    She held up her hand. “I know, Brooklyn, but you have to admit this is different.”
    “Okay, you’re right. I wasn’t sleeping with the victim.”
    “Yes, that. And because . . . you know, the blood.”
    “Blood can be cleaned,” I reiterated, trying to keep the exasperation from my voice. It’s not that I was mad at her. I knew what she was feeling, and honestly, a part of me wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, just like she did. But another part knew that the only way to buck Robin up was to be tough. “Look, here’s the deal. You