There's a pattern here. She knows there is. But it's subtle, it's so subtle she thinks she might be imagining it. A flyer appears on the wall of the coffee shop, announcing that his band has a show there that week. There's so few details that she thinks she must be mistaken, someone else here must have decided to use that same band name, it wasn't that creative- but she goes back to look again the next day, just to see, and it's gone.
She finds a jelly doughnut left on the hood of her car while she's out shopping. They're Kevin's favorite, and she has to talk him out of eating it- they don't know where it came from, it can't be safe, just throw it out, see how someone's already cut it open? It's oozing red jelly out over the roof of the car.
Little things, one at a time. Spaced apart enough that she's never quite sure they're related to each other. A week before something new happens? Two? Once there's two incidents in three days, then nothing for almost a month. She could be imagining it.
...maybe.
She finds a stuffed dog in their front yard. It's very generic, one of those silly plush dogs you can get at any store for a few bucks, and it's arguably, plausibly, a dog toy. But the tag on the dog's collar says 'Tammy'. And it's been torn almost to shreds, viciously. And none of her neighbors have dogs.
Tamara calls the Watcher's Council. And then she calls Bella.
Right then.
Back through the warehouse.
To the chair and the pile of dust and "Oh fuck -"
Bella flicks her knife out and cuts a furrow into the words until they're illegible.
She waits, a minute, before saying:
"Soph, can you fix your ankle or do you need to go to a doctor?"
At the reminder that they might leave, Tamara visibly tries to pull herself together. It doesn't work very well. But after a few gulps, she at least manages to choke out, "Soph, I- do you- a container?"
Tamara doesn't respond to their logistical questions. She finishes collecting her dust into the jar Soph gave her. She screws the cap on carefully, carefully. Still kneeling, looking down, she says quietly, brokenly, "Tell me you killed him."
"Good." She doesn't say anything else. She's holding herself wrong, somehow, all stiffness and awkward and rigid angles. As though she might shatter at any second.
Tamara nods jerkily, and manages to haul herself to her feet despite her unsteadiness. She wraps her jar carefully in her arms and- waits. Silently, with noiseless tears running down her cheeks.
Bella puts a hand on her elbow and leads Tamara to her own car. "Let me have the keys, I'll drive."
my baby, my baby
For the remainder of the car ride, Tamara tries futilely to dry her face, and holds tight to the container in her lap. Every so often she shudders, carefully readjusts it, and then shrinks back into herself.
My baby, my baby
"Thank you, but- no, I- I have to- say goodbye," she manages finally.
And then she starts crying again, and the rest of her words get lost.
That wasn't what Bella meant, but she's not going to argue the point. She goes around the car and opens Tamara's door for her and sees her inside. And then she jogs home.