A Measure of Blood Read Free Page B

said to run.”
    â€œI know. That’s okay. Did you happen to hear anything?”
    â€œNo. Just some kind of arguing and when I opened the door from my room, she said I should leave.”
    â€œHow did she say it? Calmly or—”
    â€œ ‘Run, Matt, go, leave!’ stuff like that. She said I should go to a neighbor, but I didn’t.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI didn’t feel like it.” His face began to collapse.
    â€œOkay. That’s all right.”
    â€œBecause I wanted to help. I took the phone on the way out.”
    â€œWhere did you go?”
    â€œJust down the steps. When I got outside, I called 911. I said, ‘A man is bothering my mother.’ Some lady said okay and she asked for our address. But it didn’t feel like she was going to do anything. So, so I snuck back.”
    â€œSame way?”
    â€œNo, I came around the front.”
    â€œWere you afraid to come back?”
    â€œYeah. But I … didn’t know what else to do.”
    â€œDid you see him again? When you came back?”
    â€œNo. He was gone.”
    Though it was excruciating to wait out the boy’s struggle, to wait for what would come next, Christie allowed a silence to intervene.
    After a while Matthew said, “She was on the floor and there was blood everywhere. I tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t hear. Right away I called 911 again, because I knew the lady who answered didn’t care when I called before. I asked for an ambulance.”
    Colleen took a step away. She was near tears.
    â€œYou didn’t do anything wrong, Matt. It seems like you did just about everything right, okay?”
    â€œThen I ran next door. Mrs. Panikkar didn’t understand why I wanted her husband until I dragged her. Then she ran back to her place and I could hear her calling him in her language.”
    â€œThat was a sensible thing to try,” Christie said. “Wasn’t it?”
    Colleen, her voice raspy, said, “I think it was very smart.”
    Matthew twitched and looked down.
    â€œSomething else you want to say?”
    â€œNo,” the boy said. “Yes. Was he my father?”
    â€œI don’t know. Your mother told you he wasn’t?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDid she tell you anything else about your father? Where he was, anything?”
    â€œJust away. He couldn’t be with us.”
    â€œIs that … all?”
    â€œShe said he was a good person. She said he was smart. But we couldn’t all be together.”
    â€œMatt. Tell me everything you can about the people in your mother’s life. Tell us the names of relatives.”
    â€œWe don’t have any.”
    â€œNone? Grandmother, uncle?”
    â€œShe said it was just the two of us.”
    Christie looked at Colleen, wondering if he could just keep at the boy. She seemed to nod. “Can you tell me who her friends were? Women friends, work friends, everybody you can think of. And anybody she was dating.”
    â€œShe didn’t go for dates.”
    â€œOkay. Other friends?”
    â€œSasha. Her friend Sasha.”
    Christie asked, “Did she keep phone numbers somewhere?”
    â€œNear the phone.”
    â€œGood place. Who else was close to the two of you—other friends? Men friends especially. Take your time.”
    â€œI guess Sasha’s boyfriend, Mikhail.” He appeared to think of answers. “And Jason. He owns the coffee shop where she works. And the guy from the gallery where she works. Ben.”
    â€œHow many jobs did she have?”
    â€œThree.”
    â€œCan you explain how that worked?”
    â€œMonday, Wednesday, Friday she had school.”
    â€œThis was in the grade schools,” Colleen told Christie. “That was her main job, teaching painting. Right, Matt?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œOther jobs were … what?”
    â€œShe worked in the coffee shop sometimes on other