Bandages, and other white cloth.

     He started driving faster after that. He checked his phone once, and almost took out a lamp post. I clenched my fist and opened it, over and over again. The bandages pulled against my wrist, shooting a pain up my forearm. I kept it up, squeezing, aching, releasing, relaxing squeezing again. I was trying to make myself immune to it. trying to shake off pain. It wasn't working, but I kept trying anyway, trying to make it hurt enough to matter. It didn't.
     Silas was flying down the freeway now, bobbing in and out of traffic. He drives like an asshole, but I wasn't going to tell him at this junction. We were long past Chicago, on the 90, past sleepy hollow and on the way to Hampshire  I realized what he was doing, he was rushing for the next house on the list, the next family who might still be alive. The trip should have been an hour or so, according to Google maps, but Silas did it in about half that. We found ourselves swerving through suburbs, track housing, whatever you want to call it. We turned onto Schmidt, and were about to turn onto barn owl, the home where they lived, but we were stopped by the two police cars and an ambulance sitting on the culdesac. Silas hit the brakes, cussed me out, and told me how to behave, before parking the car in a neighbor's driveway.
     We got out of the car, acting completely bewildered. Silas approached the cops, who were filling out their paperwork, and I stood by the car, acting nervous, which was easy for me. Apparently, we'd been camping for a week, and didn't know anything about anything. He spoke with them for awhile, lots of disbelief on his face, and fear. The medical examiner walked out through the front door of the house, pulling a gurney behind him, covered in a white cloth. When that happened, Silas feigned squeamishness, and I turned away from the whole scene. Silas walked back to the car shortly after that, told me to get in.
     We left and we went to some little diner, where Silas filled me in. Apparently, there was one victim, a woman, in her thirties. She lived alone in the house, which seemed crazy, considering how big it was. She drowned herself in the pool, according to the M.E. After we ate, I payed the check and asked Silas whet the plan was. He sighed and sat quietly for awhile, before admitting with heavy resignation, that we needed to regroup. So we headed back to the bank.