Web of Lies Read Free

School, my heart skidding. Jenna insisted on driving. As we rolled through the parking lot, a television news van showed up at the curb. A man spilled out and raised his camera, the red light on. I ducked. Our car jostled as we entered the street. I could hear Adam Bendershil calling through my closed window. “Ms. Kingston, can you tell us what happened?”
    After a few turns, Jenna touched my arm. “Okay, you can come up now.”
    I uncurled my spine and leaned back against the headrest, wishing I could feel as strong as my sister. God, I’m the Christian here. Help me rest in Your power.
    The scenes started rolling then. They always do.
    In my head resides something akin to a film projector. During times of stress it tends to spit vivid images onto my brain’s movie screen. Now it spewed sequences of
    the shooter running straight toward our car, gun jerking up and down in his hand . . .
    Toby’s pinched white face. “It hurts!” . . .
    A bloodied, shattered head. A cheek and eye — blown away . . .
    I squeezed my eyes shut. Forced the memories away.
    From my purse, my cell phone sounded. I withdrew it to see Kelly’s number. Pulling in a breath, I answered the call.
    “Mom!” My daughter poured the impatience of a beleaguered fifteen-year-old into her voice. “What’s taking you so long?”

Chapter 2
    O n our way to the high school, I called Stephen and told him what happened. I tried to keep my tone factual, but my son knew me too well.
    “Mom, that’s awful . Are you sure you’re okay?”
    Not really. “Yes. A little shaken by the whole thing, but fine.”
    “That guy with the gun — did he see you?”
    “No. We were ducked down — ”
    “But still, it’ll be on the news. They’ll say you were there.” His voice edged. “Now you’re personally involved again. In another murder case.”
    I wanted to tell him to stop, that his fears were too close to my own. Instead I floundered for some soothing response that would calm neither of us. “Jenna and I gave statements, and when the guy’s brought to trial, we’ll probably have to testify. But that’s all. It’s not like last time.”
    Last time — when a serial murderer played chess with me, nearly killed me . . .
    “Right.” Stephen made a cynical sound in his throat. “Should I come home from work?”
    Home? “No, of course not. There’s no reason for you — ”
    “’Cause now I’m all worried. You sound upset, and I don’t want you there by yourself.”
    Good grief, do I sound that bad? “I’m not by myself; Jenna’s with me.”
    “Mom, I don’t like this.” He breathed frustration and angst into the phone. I could practically see his knit eyebrows, the set jaw. “Look, at least this time you can rely on me. Nothing better happen to you. I swear I’ll kill anybody who — ”
    “Stephen, whoa! Nobody’s going to do anything to me. This is not like the other times. Just please, calm down.”
    “Yeah, yeah, I’m calm.” The words dropped like pebbles on cement. “I’m just telling you the way it is.”
    I hung up the phone and gave Jenna a nonplussed look. She raised her eyebrows. “I heard him. Feeling rather protective, isn’t he?”
    “No kidding.” I crossed my arms. “Kid’s scaring me.”
    “I think it’s healthy. I mean, really, Annie, look at all the grief he’s caused you. Thank heaven he’s been scared straight for the last three months. I think it’s only right that he’d turn some of his vehemence on anybody who’d try to hurt you. It’s part self-defense and part . . . I don’t know. Atonement.”
    Interesting choice of word, coming from Jenna. But Stephen’s real atonement would come when he stopped saying no to God. So far he’d managed to keep away from his old friends and drugs, and he’d gotten a good start on his grades this school year. But he needed God’s help to stay straight.
    We reached the high school, Stephen’s diatribe still ringing in my ears. I dreaded telling the