Girl With a Past by Sherri Leigh James Page B

don’t know, I just
yelled out hello and hurried out of Dad’s office before he changed
his mind about letting me get the file.”
    “Dad can tell us.”
    “When he gets out of court.” I rubbed my
arms.
    “You’re shivering. Are you cold?” Steven
asked.
    “A little. Mostly nervous.” I clenched my
teeth together in an effort to stop them chattering.
    Steven looked at the lightweight jacket I’d
tossed over my T-shirt. He turned on the car heater. “Got a warmer
jacket with you?” He nodded at my backpack.
    “No.”
    He stopped at a signal, took off his pea
coat, and placed it around my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
    I nodded, but didn’t relax my bite.
    Steven turned the car around again.
    “Where are you going?” I muttered.
    “To your house, to get you warmer
clothes."
    We weren’t far from my house on Piedmont
Avenue, and a warm jacket that fit me would be good. I slunk down
in the seat and pulled the pea coat tighter feeling the scratch of
the wool on my neck.
    I knew I wasn’t thinking straight. Or at
all. My mind kept going blank, but one wild thought persisted.
    “Do you think one of our so-called uncles
could’ve been the Zodiac killer?” I muttered through clenched
teeth. My body was really shaking now.
    “Na-ah.” Steven shook his head, rolled his
eyes as if to say, ‘here goes the drama again.’ “Where did that
come from? That’s nuts.”
    “What . . .” I took a huge breath and
exhaled before continuing. “What makes you so sure?”
    “For one thing, there’s that guy that the
police thought was the killer, but they couldn’t prove it. What was
his name? Allen?”
    “Arthur Allen.” I supplied.
    “Yeah, him.” Steven brought the car to a
halt while a stream of students crossed the street; he turned his
head and studied me. “Are you okay? You aren’t going into shock, or
something are you?” He held out a bottle of water and insisted I
take a swallow.
    I ignored his question. How the hell was I
supposed to know what going into shock felt like? But then, how did
I know it was a bullet that went whizzing past my ear? “DNA
evidence from the stamps on the Zodiac letters didn’t match
Allen.”
    “Don’t you think the fact that the killings
ended in the seventies would indicate that the guy died?” Steven
pointed out.
    “Or went to prison for something else?” I
said.
    “Yeah . . . neither of which would apply to
any of our uncles,” he said. “As Dad would say, you’re barking up
the wrong tree with this uncle business.”
    I shook my head. “No, guess not.” My hand
continued to tremble as I dug my house keys out of my jean’s pocket
when Steven pulled his car into the driveway of my house.
    “Hold on. I’m coming with you.” Steven
turned off the car.
    I was relieved. Not because I thought bad
dudes might be waiting inside, but because the house mascot, a ten
foot tall taxidermied grizzly bear, that stood in the curve of the
staircase, freaked me out every time I ran past him and up the
stairs. The knit Cal cap, the blue and gold striped scarf, and
letterman’s sweater my housemates had dressed the monster in did
nothing to alleviate my fear of his mouthful of sharp teeth and his
ginormous paws.
    My six-foot tall brother stood at the base
of the stairs, dwarfed by the giant bear, but not intimidated. “Hey
Oski, ole buddy, how ya doin’?” Steven pulled a play punch at the
stuffed creature. “Sis, want me to come up there with ya?”
    “I’m okay.” Once I got past the grizzly, I
was fine. My housemates were all on campus, in class or the
library. The house would remain empty and quiet until
dinnertime.
    In my sun porch bedroom, I tore off my grass
and mud splattered jeans, T-shirt and jacket, pulled on clean
jeans, a turtleneck, sweater, and down jacket, shoved the papers
into my pocket, and swept a brush through my blonde mane. A quick
swipe with the electric toothbrush and I was ready to go again.
    Ignoring the fucking bear, I ran down