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   “You wouldn’t let me have one,” Tim answered.
   John glanced at Tim and stood up.
   “You would have killed him. I’m gonna go talk to the lawn guy. And grab a camera. Don’t step in the blood.”
   I gagged and looked up at the ceiling.
   There were several cobwebs up there I hadn’t noticed before.
   “Can I clean this up a little?” I heard Tim ask.
   “The counter?” John asked. “What’s up there? Splatter?”
   I gagged again. Audibly.
   “No, the floor. Some of that blood,” Tim answered. “It’s clean up here.”
   “Wait till I get some pictures,” John said. “Leave it till then. It’s a crime scene.”
   “Can I take Tee out of here?”
   “Yeah, take her in the living room. Just be careful where you step. Don’t let her walk in it either.”
   Tim helped me stand, then lifted me up and held me against his chest.
   I buried my face in his neck and closed my eyes.
   I didn’t want to see the floor.
   Tim carried me into the living room.
   A cool ocean breeze blew in the opening where the front door used to be.
   He set me on the couch, pulled down the afghan, and wrapped it around me.
   “I’ll get the tea, babe. Just be a minute, okay? Do you want me to start a fire?”
   I nodded, my teeth beginning to chatter.
   I heard John’s voice talking to someone on the porch, although I couldn’t make out the words.