Member-only story
Genevive Rewrites History
True Crime
If a blank page had a flavor it would be bitter sage, thinks Genevive. Her fingers form a hook,
I looked behind and saw the girl opening the green door and head my way.
Too much like Highsmith’s opener, she crumples the thought and tosses it toward the guest room, the last place her niece was seen. She tries again,
Between there and here
The doorbell screams. She swings her arm and bolts to shut out grinning Jehovah’s Witnesses, but she stops mid slam when the one taps a sheriff’s badge and asks, “Ma’am?”
Good Cop steps forward just like the neighbor last week, toting sympathy and a casserole. Bad Cop hulks behind. Genevive admits them. Good Cop smiles, Bad Cop squints. “Will you talk to us, or do you want a lawyer?” Good cop sits. Genevive waits for the other gum shoe to drop. He stands. They make her recount over and over she measures the timeline and reworks theories. She says I Didn’t Do It. Before leaving, the duo scatter their calling cards.
She tiptoes to the guest room. Bends to scratch where the ankle monitor will grip. Walls, chair, and bedspread are splattered with DNA. The new Hello Kitty rug was a gift for her niece, innocent and wide-eyed she bores through floorboards, down, down to the handgun loaded and locked in…
