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Anna stood, arm limp, cordless phone still in hand. Her body shook with anger. How dare this woman call her? She was sick of the questions. The constant barrage of people connected to Gary who reached out to console, question, and deliver information. She knew more about her brother now than when he was alive.
“Who was it, dear?”
“No one to worry about, Mom.”
But was she? She had been careless with Gary’s cell phone, and now it was in the hands of the police. She finished preparing iced tea and sandwiches for her parents and set it on the cocktail table in the living room. Their favorite shows were on, eyes glued to the television set, a temporary reprieve from grief over the loss of their beloved son. If she had died rather than Gary, they would not be mourning to this degree.
Ga
