Gavin froze, hidden in the crowd, as a policeman kicked Jason and started hauling him off, blood streaking the sidewalk.
“Gavin, you don’t look so well. Go on home, honey. I’ll let them know in the office.”
Gavin almost ran again, before he turned and saw that it was Miss Wilkyns. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to her, his head on her breast, her mouth against his ears. “He loves you. Go home. You can’t do anything. Go home. Remember: you didn’t know; you were just his friend. Tell them that.”
* * * *
If Gavin had looked back, he would have seen Miss Rosamunde Wilkyns leaning on her cane, and squeezing the brass knob tightly, as if she were willing him not to look back. But he was long gone by the time the sheriff’s patrol car left the scene. He didn’t see Jason’s blood on the side
