AND WHERE WERE YOU ON THE NIGHT OF . . .

Warning: Description of crime scene. Some disturbing images.

* * *

Justine had finally dipped into a semi-dream state when the buzz coming from her phone deposited her right back into her own living nightmare. She fumbled around for the phone, not checking to see who it was. She knew.

"I'm about to order wings. How many you want?"

Justine hesitated for just a second before mumbling, "Just a half-order and leave out the ghost peppers this time."

The phone went dead.

* * *

By the time she arrived at the Deep Six, it was well past midnight. The bar was packed, as usual. Stacks, the bouncer, leaned toward Justine attempting to hear her query over the noisy crowd. Without saying a word, he pointed to one of the high-top tables over in the far dark corner of the room. Justine nodded her thanks and began weaving her way through the throngs of people, some shouting, some arguing, some dancing, all drinking. When she reached Wolf's table, she slid into the seat next to his, facing the door. She had never seen him sit with his back to a door. She picked up the bottle that was waiting for her and took a long pull from it.

"So, any developments?"

Justine set down the bottle but kept her hands around the base, enjoying the feel of the cool moisture on her fingers. It felt real.

She shook her head and looked at Wolf. "You?"

When he didn't answer right away, she realized the waitress was coming with their wings. She moved her bottle out of the way and leaned back to make room for the food.

Wolf picked up a dripping wing as the waitress was immediately called away to another table.

"I might go away for a while."

Justine stared at the napkin she found herself folding and then twisting in her hands.

"You could have just told me that over the phone."

"Well, sure. If I wanted to make it easier for us to get caught, that's what I could have done."

Wolf was always a fast eater. In the silence that followed, five wings were reduced to a small pile of bones.

"You going to eat those?"

Justine slid her plate over and then got up to leave.

"Finish your beer at least. Come on, Jus. You must have expected this. I'll find a way to reach you."

Justine leaned over the table on her elbows.

"I'm finished with my beer and I'm finished with you. Don't contact me again."

She turned to leave. She saw that her arm had picked up some of the wing sauce. She touched it and tasted.

"Ghost peppers," she spat, "thought so."

* * *

It was four days earlier that the nightmare began. She was just returning from the local laundromat with their clothes when she saw Wolf's truck in the driveway. That's odd. He should be at work. She decided to park alongside the truck in case he had to leave again.

"Hey, babe. Let me put this down." She passed Wolf standing at the kitchen window as she touted the basket of clean clothes into the bedroom. As she returned, she was removing her sunglasses and about to question why he wasn't at work.

He raised a finger to silence her, said, "Be right back," and hurried out the kitchen door.

Justine stared after him for a few moments, shrugged, and then retreated back to the bedroom to put the laundry away.

She was about to slip the laundry basket back into the utility closet when she heard POP, POP POP, POP POP.

She dropped the basket and ran to the kitchen and looked out the window.

Before she could actually see anything, Wolf was already back in the house. He looked shaken, scared.

Justine rushed to him. "Wolfie, are you all right? What happened?"

He looked like he was about to collapse. Justine helped him to a kitchen chair and sat him down. Wolf had never appeared helpless in all the time they'd been together and, to Justine, it was as frightening as if he had entered the house covered in blood.

"Are you hurt? Wolfie, what happened? Talk to me!"

Wolf waved a hand toward the door and then covered his eyes.

She slowly disengaged from him and steeled herself to go outside. There was nothing noticeably amiss, until she saw a strange car parked behind Wolf's truck. She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her back as she studied the vehicle. She could see that the passenger side door was open. As she moved closer, she felt her toe touch something heavy. She looked down and saw a black handgun. Justine looked back toward the kitchen, then turned to the car.

The only sounds she could hear was the steady drone of insects and the crunch of her steps on the gravel driveway. She stopped when she first saw the blood, lots of it, spattered everywhere. She slowly peered through the open passenger side to glimpse the driver, his body slumped over onto the passenger seat. The hum of insects had grown to the roar of a passing train in her ears. The next thing she remembered was rushing to Wolf in the kitchen and clutching him by the shoulders.

"Come on, Wolf. You have to move!"

Wolf looked up. His eyes were no longer glazed and he appeared to be thinking.

"You can't just sit there. There are things that need to be done. Now!"

Justine ran to the utility closet. She gathered garbage bags, bleach, rubber gloves, detergent, sponges, a plastic bucket. Next she checked the linen closet for old sheets and towels.

She was relieved to see Wolf had gotten up and was running water in the sink, splashing his face. When he'd finished, he grabbed the dish towel, turned to Justine and said, "Listen closely. I have a plan."

* * *

They worked endlessly, scrubbing, cleaning, filling bucket after bucket with fresh soap and water and taking turns dumping gallons and gallons of evidence into a hole Wolf had dug on the far end of the property. All used rags, gloves and sponges were also dumped, doused with bleach and then buried.

The body was the worst part. Justine never imagined it would be so heavy or that she would feel so sick. She couldn't really help, so Wolf sent her to the end of the driveway to look out for any movement. They were fortunate the yard was overgrown and the road was partially blocked from view by a small grove of trees on either side of the entryway, and traffic was routinely scarce.

When she was called back, the car looked pretty good. Wolf was sprinkling the last of the bleach over a patch of driveway.

"Let's go."

Justine caught a glimpse of her sheets in the back seat as she slid into the passenger seat. Wolf climbed into the driver's side and produced a set of keys that still appeared to have blood on them. Justine looked away.

"Where are we going?"

"I was hoping you might help with that. I don't really know this area. Didn't you say you grew up near here?"

Justine closed her eyes. Think. When she was little, her dad used to take her fishing. It was at a secluded area with a canal that led to a pond. Think. Where was it? Ah!

"I'll drive my car and you follow me. You're not planning on keeping this car, are you?"

* * *

By the time they got home, it was dark. They showered. The clothes they had worn were bundled into a large plastic bag. Wolf would not wait until morning to dispose of it. He had access to an incinerator at the factory where he worked and he had a key. He told Justine to get some sleep and left.

Justine lay in bed, exhausted physically and emotionally, but her mind would not allow her to shut down. Nagging little demons had taken up residence there and would not leave.

When 2:00 a.m. rolled around and Wolf had not returned, new worry grabbed hold and Justine reached for her phone to text him. Where are you? She began to tap away, but then stopped. If there's any sort of evidence trail out there, this would only add to it. The luxury of finding out what Wolf was doing out so late was not worth the risk. She'd done what she had done out of love and loyalty. Now, she'd just have to hang on and wait.

* * *

Justine must have passed out for a time because when she came to, she could hear the shower running. She couldn't remember hearing Wolf come in, but the relief she felt was exhilarating, especially when compared to the dark duties of the day before.

She got out of bed and padded into the kitchen to make coffee. She was just finishing her first cup when Wolf entered, one of the few remaining towels wrapped around his waist.

"Well, good morning. You know, I really was worried. And I almost texted you! I wanted to. Wolfie, you must have known . . ."

"Don't!"

Wolf grabbed a cup out of the cupboard, shloshed coffee into the cup and onto the counter, slammed the carafe back into place and stormed to the bedroom.

Justine felt stunned. She sat with her empty cup. After taking a few deep breaths, she got up.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Wolfie. It's just I was worried."

Wolf was facing the mirror, buttoning his shirt.

"When are we going to talk?"

Wolf frowned as he slipped wallet and keys into his pants pocket.

"You might want to move back in with your mom, Jus, for a while."

"What? Why?"

"I don't think we should be seen together, at least for the time being."

"Wolfie, wait! I love you! I don't even know what happened!"

"Don't you think you know probably more than you should?"

"Don't you love me? After what I just did for you, for us?"

"That doesn't really matter now. I'm not cut out to be Bonnie and Clyde. If we get caught, we won't be together anyway."

"Just tell me what happened!"

"The less you know, the better. Just don't look for me. I'll try to get in touch." He walked past her.

"Wolfie." It was a plea.

He turned to face her, and sighed.

"Baby, please go home."

* * *

Justine decided not to call the house first. She had left to move in with Wolf following her father's passing from an undisclosed illness. He was abruptly taken and the shock of it was still with her. He was the one who understood her and made time for her. He really listened. Her mother was efficient and took good care of the family, but had missed out on the nurturing gene. She didn't have the caring warmth her father had.

When Justine arrived, she was greeted by her younger sister, Josey, who was thrilled to see her.

"You don't know what it's like being around Mom when you're not here. Since Daddy's not here, she never leaves me alone! Will you stay this time?"

When her mother got home from work, she greeted Justine with a mix of suspicion and guarded relief.

"I knew he was no good, Justine. If he ever laid a hand on you, I swear . . ."

Justine kept her responses short and vague. She moved into her old room and spent a lot of time there with her multiplying demons and, at times, Josey, to keep her company. Josey meant well and obviously admired her. Justine had little patience with her sister, which she truly regretted but couldn't control. She had no capacity for being anyone's role model. She was too lost inside to have that kind of definition.

When Wolf finally called her and mentioned ordering wings, she knew that meant the Deep Six. That had been "their place." But that was then.

* * *

When the police showed up some weeks later, Justine was ill-prepared. Her mother appeared in her doorway and announced that the authorities wanted a word with her. Would I happen to know what this was about? No idea, Mom. I'm as confused as you. Well, they're waiting.

Thankfully, Josey had already left for school. The two officers were waiting for her in the living room. Mom, aren't you going to be late for work? I can't leave now! Wouldn't it be better if. . .? I'm a big girl, Mom. I'll call you later and fill you in. Let me see what this is about first. Are you sure? Yes, I'm sure.

My mother bid the officers goodbye, she was leaving for work. There was coffee in the kitchen. Was there anything else she could do for them? Not right now, ma'am. Thank you for the hospitality. Well, Justine will be along presently. Good day, gentlemen.

"I'm Justine."

"Hello, ma'am. We're sorry to bother you. I'm Deputy Vasquez and this is Officer Hamler. We're investigating an incident that happened a few weeks back and would like to ask you a few questions."

"I'm not sure how I can help but I will if I can."

"Justine, do you know a Wolfgang Colt?"

"I did."

"How did you know him?"

"Has he done something?"

"That's actually what we're here to investigate."

"Well, I haven't heard from him in quite a while."

"How long has it been since you had any contact?"

"Weeks."

"Do you know how many?"

"Is there any way you can be more specific what you're asking?"

"Well, then I'll get right to the point. Mr. Colt has identified you as being responsible for the murder of one David Turner. Mr. Turner's body was recently recovered from a canal with several bullet holes in it, along with his car and what we presume is the murder weapon. Do you watch the news?"

"Not lately." Justine was pale.

"Would you like to take a moment?"

"Uh, no. And, yes, I do believe I can help you."

* * *

The day Justine was to testify in the case of State versus Wolfgang Colt, she was sequestered in an unoccupied jury room with her mother, her attorney and a witness advocate from the courthouse assigned to her case. She'd been permitted to remain free on bond for the two years it took for the case to be prepared for trial. She'd been monitored and there were strict rules she'd had to follow. And she did.

A uniformed deputy knocked and entered. "Justine? You're up. "

Justine hugged her mother, left the room with her attorney beside her and the deputy leading the way. They parted ways so her lawyer could watch from the gallery. The deputy then escorted Justine to the well of the courtroom to be sworn in by the clerk. She never even glanced toward defense table.

"Do you swear to tell the truth . . ."

Boy, do I. "Yes."

By the time she was finished, after hours of grilling by both sides, she had told the absolute truth as she knew it, left nothing out. Let the chips fall where they may. Her slate felt clean, her story had been told. What penalty might accompany her participation, she would just have to take it.

When she was excused by the Judge, she walked away and didn't look back.

* * *

She heard from her attorney that Wolf had testified. He stated that the deceased had texted unexpectedly that he was coming to where Wolf lived to discuss some prior transaction. What Justine hadn't known was that the factory job was part-time, that Wolf was moonlighting with a cocaine and heroin ring that he'd kept far and away from their life together.

The deceased had pulled into their driveway, Wolf had prepared to meet him and keep him away from the house. Wolf described a gun being pointed at him, a demand that all his drugs be turned over, and what followed was essentially a battle for survival. Wolf painted himself the ambushed victim, forced to defend himself.

Justine, he offered, knew nothing about his other life and had only aided his attempt to conceal the crime because of her genuine, albeit misguided, devotion to him. He apologized from the stand for what had happened and admitted that he alone was to blame.

* * *

Wolfgang Colt was convicted of second degree murder and sentenced to twenty-five years in prison. His claim of self-defense was rejected by the jury.

Justine was sentenced in her own criminal case of aiding and abetting a homicide to four years in prison. Her potential sentence could have been fifteen years. It took time for her to realize that, had Wolfie not pushed her away as he had, the outcome for her could have been different, so much worse.

In the years that followed, when her mother and Josie visited her at the penitentiary, inevitably her mother would begin a random sentence with, "I knew that good-for-nothing . . ." Justine would then smile at Josey and, with a wink, say, "I can only fault myself for what I'm at fault for. That, alone, I own."

And, with that, any demons still inside her head would lose their foot-hold and leave the premises.

THE END