by Ren Richards
It was the photo of Reina in her denim overalls with hearts for buttons. Her hand was up over her forehead, sweeping the curls from her dark eyes and heavy lashes, and her mouth was open and upturned as though about to smile.
The prosecutor went on. ‘One witness who will not be called to the stand is Reina Eddleton, because the defendant is accused of killing her. The defence will try to portray the defendant, Penelope Wendall, as a defenceless little girl because she was a teenage mother. This is an act the defendant has used for her entire life.’
Nell’s mind went dark. Her vision clouded until nothing made sense. The photo of her daughter was just a blur of colours and shapes. She heard, but didn’t understand, the rest of the words the prosecutor was saying.
Ethan was in the room, seated somewhere behind her. She could feel his eyes boring through her. She could feel what he was thinking, and it frightened her.
When the prosecution was done, it was Matthew’s turn. He stood, adjusting his cufflinks, and flawlessly dispensed the story he’d been rehearsing for months. Not to appear rattled by the prosecution’s tactics, he left the photo of Reina on the easel.
Nell wanted the photo taken down. She wanted it gone. She felt sick, but she couldn’t look away.
Matthew told the courtroom that Nell had been a young mother, that she’d been manipulated, mentally abused and shut up in the cage that was the Eddletons’ home.
Through the corner of her eye, Nell saw a woman holding a giant pad and pastel pencils. She was sketching the courtroom, and Nell wondered how she must have looked, sitting there in the itchy white blouse and grey pencil skirt Matthew had chosen for her. She wondered if she looked like a teenage girl or a cold-blooded murderer.
The court adjourned for lunch at noon, and Matthew held Nell’s forearm under the table, keeping her in place until the courtroom was empty. Then, he led her out into the hallway.
Her legs were shaking and she leaned against the wall, beneath a placard that read COURTROOM B.
‘You did great in there,’ Matthew said. ‘But focus on keeping your mouth in a straight line. It looked too much like you were trying not to cry.’
Nell had been trying not to cry, but all she said was, ‘Where’s Lindsay?’
‘I asked her not to speak to you here,’ Matthew said. ‘We’re not in the courtroom, but the people are still looking for any opportunity to scrutinise you. Right now, we focus on getting you something to eat and maintaining your stamina.’
In all the commotion of the crowded courthouse, Nell didn’t hear the telltale clatter of high-heeled shoes.
‘Penelope?’
Nell spun around to see Mrs Eddleton standing in the hallway. Her hair was pulled back into a beehive, teased and sprayed to hide the fact that it was thinning. She towered over Nell in height, as always, but she looked smaller somehow, as though she’d shrunk in the months since Nell had seen her last. Her eyes were steely and bright and shining with tears. She raised a hand and slapped Nell across the face.
The sound echoed against the tiles.
‘Fuck you,’ Mrs Eddleton hissed between her clenched teeth. It was the first time Nell had ever heard her curse. Security ran to detain her and she didn’t fight the guard who took her by the arm. Her eyes were still on Nell as she was pulled back. ‘I hope you burn in hell.’
39
NOW
The cold woke her. It bit into her skin like thousands of tiny teeth.
Nell opened her eyes and found that she was staring up at the darkening sky. It was just after sunset, and there were still ribbons of light fading away on the horizon.
Her vision blurred. She tasted blood, and then she remembered losing control of the car. She remembered Lindsay slumped over, barely breathing. This was the thought that gave her just enough adrenaline to move.
Her wrist was sprained. Hot red pain shot up her arm when she tried to move it.
She tried to move again, and a loud groan escaped her. She was in the woods, she knew that much. But the woods had been set back far from the road, hadn’t they? Nell tried to think. Had she been thrown from the car?
Oleg. Had she dreamed him? No. She was sure that she’d leaned against his car. She’d felt the cold metal of the door handle, pressed her forehead against the open doorframe.
‘Lindsay?’ she managed to croak. She pushed herself up using her good arm. Her legs were numb with cold, and most of her body felt like dead weight, but she didn’t think anything was broken.
‘Lindsay!’
She heard the sound of something scraping. Heavy breathing. Grunting. Her vision filled with stars. She tried to breathe, and slowly the stars settled.
But even though her vision was clear, she didn’t understand what she was seeing. Oleg was standing three yards away, holding a shovel and stepping on the blade so that it cut through the frozen dirt. What was he doing here? Why had he left her on the ground?
He didn’t seem to notice her at first, but then without looking up, he said, ‘Did you have a nice nap?’
Snow was still falling in wisps, and the grass was covered with it.
‘Oleg?’ her voice was scratchy. Her mind was full of questions, but her brain wouldn’t latch on to any of them. They were so far into the woods that she couldn’t even see the road. But she saw Oleg’s car parked in a clearing twenty, maybe twenty-five yards away.
Her eyes went back to the shovel in his hand. The ground was so frozen that he must have been here digging for hours.
Her blood ran cold. No, he hadn’t been digging for hours. He’d dug the hole for Nell already, and now he was just widening it so that it could fit Lindsay’s body too. It was clear that Lindsay was an unexpected complication.
‘Lindsay!’ Nell screamed with everything that was left in her. Somehow, she managed to get to her feet. She took one step before Oleg swung the shovel at the back of her knees, and she fell. But she didn’t stop screaming. Not until he knelt over her and put a hand over her mouth.
‘Listen to me,’ he said. ‘Your sister isn’t going to answer. Nobody can save you.’
Nell stared up into his eyes. They were the same familiar blue. His hair was still neatly parted, only a little dishevelled at the front. He was the same and not the same all at once.
She could taste the fibres of his gloves, and she inhaled deeply. If he was going to murder her, she wanted those fibres in her mouth, in her lungs. It might be the only evidence the police had to go by when they found her. If they found her.
THEN
‘Your honour, I’d like to present Exhibit G,’ the prosecutor announced.
A hush fell over the courtroom as Belinda Ambrose hauled Reina’s car seat, encased in a large evidence bag, across the courtroom. She slammed it down on the table that had been brought to the centre of the court.
‘You’ll notice safety pins and duct tape on the seat-belt,’ Ambrose said, gesturing to the evidence like a grim Vanna White. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, people of the state of Missouri, you’ll hear testimony from Reina’s grandparents that these accessories were routine. You’ll hear them testify that the defendant’ – she pointed to Nell – ‘duct taped and pinned her child into this car seat, claiming it was because she knew how to escape. Please refer back to my earlier Exhibit A.’ She tapped her finger against the enlarged photo of Reina, still resting in the easel.
‘This picture was taken just weeks before Reina Eddleton was reported missing. Now direct your attention back to this car seat. It’s a new model. It appears to be in proper working order. Ladies and gentlemen, the entire purpose of a car seat is to keep children safe and secure. Reina was not Harry Houdini. She didn’t possess superhuman strength. She was only a little girl, powerless to her mother’s whims.’
Nell was sitting beside Matthew at the defendant’s table. She held her breath until her chest ached. Over the course of the morning and afternoon, she’d lost count of how many times her daughter’s name had been used. It was like a weapon being drawn against
her, this name she’d given her daughter when she first held her in that hospital bed. She never could have imagined that it would come to this.
‘See this, here?’ Ambrose went on. Extending her manicured finger, she traced a line in the air around the car seat. There was a stain in the upholstery. ‘This stain is urine. That urine belongs to Reina Eddleton, who was so terrified of her mother’s abuse that she wet herself.’
‘Your honour, objection!’ Matthew stood, sounding more irritated than angry. ‘That’s pure speculation.’
‘I’ll withdraw,’ Ambrose said quickly. But her smile said that she had already made her point. The jurors had already formed the image in their minds. Nell didn’t let herself look at the jurors. She didn’t dare. But she could feel their eyes on her. She could feel their disgust.
NOW
Nell didn’t scream again. She had to appear compliant, or Oleg might kill her before she had a chance to escape.
He let go of her and allowed her to sit up, her back pressed against a tree.
Where’s Lindsay? Was she in Oleg’s car? In the trunk perhaps? He wouldn’t have left her in Nell’s vehicle by the side of the road; someone might have spotted her and called for help.
Nell tried to think. She couldn’t hear traffic, but that didn’t mean they were far from the road; they had been on a back road when they crashed, and not a lot of cars came by.
‘Why are you doing this?’ Nell asked, though she didn’t expect a straight answer. A conversation would prolong the inevitable, giving her time to regain her strength. She felt for the pepper spray she kept zippered in her coat pocket, but the pocket was empty. Oleg must have taken it when she was unconscious. ‘Is this about money? Because—’
‘This isn’t about money,’ Oleg said, and for a moment he sounded like the congenial Oleg she had known. He changed as easily as Easter switched between her Russian and American accents.
Night had fallen, and it was getting harder for Nell to see him. He was kneeling a few feet before her, setting up a tripod and mounting his phone so that the screen faced Nell.
He was going to record her, Nell thought.
‘This is about the truth,’ he said. ‘Yours. Mine.’
Nell tried not to let her shock show on her face, but she could see her expression on the screen, a mix of horror and surprise.
‘Easter told you about my daughter,’ she said.
Oleg smirked. ‘Of course she did. Who else does she have to talk to? I’m the only one who visits. And she was so excited that you might write about her. Prove her innocence.’
Nell heard something rustle in the leaves. She cast a fleeting glance toward the sound, and then her attention fixed back on Oleg. She hoped it was Lindsay. Her situation would only be made worse if Oleg had an accomplice.
‘You hide who you really are,’ Oleg went on. ‘But I can see it. Do you know why?’ He leaned closer, though he stayed behind his phone so that his image wouldn’t be recorded. But what about his voice? Surely someone would recognise it. No. He could edit it however he wanted, distort his voice.
‘It’s because you’re just like Autumn,’ Oleg answered his own question.
Nell’s breathing hitched.
‘As long as Autumn was attached to Easter, she was trapped. But even as a child, she found ways to do it without getting caught. Dogs, rodents.’
Nell wondered if she was delirious, if she was hallucinating. But the more Oleg spoke, the more awake she felt. She was trapped by her own horrified curiosity.
‘Easter tried to stop her,’ he went on. ‘She would scream. But one day, Autumn jumped in the small pond near our house, pulling Easter with her. Easter tried to fight her, but Autumn held them both underwater. She stayed underwater until she’d made her point. If Easter didn’t let her have her way, Autumn would kill them both.’
Easter, screaming for help. Easter, covered in bruises and burns, which Autumn told Mrs Hamblin were self-inflicted. Easter, recoiling into the shadows and taking all the blame.
‘It was Autumn?’ Nell managed to ask. ‘Who killed the rabbit? Who hurt those children?’
‘Of course it was Autumn!’ Oleg snapped. ‘You should have figured that out by now. The killers are the ones who look just like us. Who look just like you.’ He paused. ‘We did it together.’
Nell shook her head. ‘I didn’t kill my daughter, Oleg.’
‘Reina’s body was never found. We both know your defence was bullshit, but the jurors voted not guilty. They couldn’t justify putting a teenage girl to death without any physical evidence of a murder.’
‘There’s no evidence because I didn’t do it. I didn’t—’ She gasped, sobbed. ‘I didn’t kill her.’
He shook his head, his white-blond hair practically glowing. ‘You want to do this the hard way.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Nell let her words come out as a whimper. ‘What do you want?’
‘It’s only fair,’ Oleg said. ‘You deserve some justice.’
‘I was found not guilty!’ Tears sprung to her eyes.
‘Don’t take it so personally,’ Oleg said. ‘Really, this is about me. Do you know what it was like, watching my little sister get away with killing anything she pleased? She could finesse her way out of anything. Anything. All she had to do was smile.’
Nell’s mind spun furiously. A new picture emerged, not of one homicidal child but of two. A brother who dreamt of murder and a sister who pulled it off. Over and over.
Understanding this meant understanding that he was going to kill her. She refused to accept it, even as her body sat frozen. If she couldn’t run, she would bargain. She would buy herself some time.
‘If Easter didn’t kill Autumn then who did?’ she asked, as though this was just another interview at the diner.
In answer, Oleg reached for the phone mounted on the tripod. Not to record, Nell realised, but to show her something.
The video began someplace grainy and dark. In woods just like these, late in the evening as the sun was beginning to set. The camera moved erratically and there was heavy breathing.
The camera eventually settled on a child lying face up in the dirt. The dark lighting covered most of the features, and all Nell could clearly see was a red coat and a smattering of bright red hair.
No. Not hair. It was blood.
‘What did you do?’ Oleg’s voice was breathy and raw from the camera. It was his voice, to be certain, but Nell had never heard him speak in this tone.
‘He was a spoiled brat.’ Easter’s voice, in her full American accent. She sounded giddy, effervescent. The camera moved to her shoes – red ballet flats with white bows at the tops. ‘Always egging our door on Halloween, pissing in the window boxes.’
‘We agreed,’ Oleg said. He sounded frustrated, but not at all horrified or surprised.
‘You agreed,’ Easter said. ‘You and your stupid rules. What is that? Are you recording?’
The camera was raised, showing her face for the first time. And in that moment Nell realised that she could tell the twins apart, after all. Through her interactions with Easter, she’d learned her gestures. She had the presence of a child who had grown up unwanted, who had learned to shrink into the shadows, and who could only feign confidence in short bursts. Nell was like her in that way.
But Autumn had the stony gaze of someone who feared nothing because she felt nothing. There was something missing from her pretty face. Something that Easter, for all her own hardships, had managed to keep.
The woman staring back at Nell on the screen was Autumn Hamblin. She was sure of it.
Oleg turned off the screen. ‘I could show you the rest, but it’s a family affair,’ he said. ‘Autumn and I had an understanding – or so I thought – that we would keep our games to smaller creatures. There’s no story on the news if a couple of neighbourhood dogs go missing. But she couldn’t control herself. I had to put a stop to it.’
He killed Autumn, Nell thought furiously. Easter is innocent.
>
Oleg rose to his feet. Nell lost sight of him in the darkness, then he was illuminated by the dim light in the trunk of his car. He reached for something inside. And then there was another figure being pulled to its feet.
A flash of blonde hair.
No. Nell’s breathing came in rapid bursts. She saw her own reflection in the phone screen, gasping. Oleg strode briskly towards her again, dragging Lindsay, who stumbled. Her hands were bound together, Nell realised, and there was a strip of duct tape wrapped around her head, covering her mouth.
Oleg shoved Lindsay and she fell hard on her side at Nell’s feet. Nell wanted to reach for her, to pull her upright, to comfort her. It was instinct, what they always did. But she knew that showing any affection towards her sister would only provoke Oleg.
Oleg stood over them. He reached for something at his hip, and then there was the unmistakable click of a handgun. Beside Nell, Lindsay was stone still, and Nell knew that her sister was plotting her charge.
‘Don’t,’ she whispered. For once in your life, Linds, listen to me.
‘Have you figured it out yet, Nell?’ Oleg asked.
How had she missed so many signs? Oleg had presented himself as the long-suffering brother, who struggled to forgive his sister for doing the unthinkable. But Nell could see the new image that emerged. He and Autumn were the same. And Easter was the perfect scapegoat. Was that all she had ever been to them? The weaker twin. The alibi.
‘You killed Autumn,’ Nell said. As she heard the words, she realised they made sense. ‘Easter is innocent.’
Oleg laughed. ‘Easter will believe whatever I tell her. It’s a game Autumn and I used to play with her. I suppose we’re still playing it even now. I told her that Autumn had gotten herself into some trouble and run away. I convinced her to dress as Autumn to cover for her – it was easy enough; nobody ever saw them both out in public together. I send her letters as if from Autumn, make her think she is still out there. Make everyone else think she’s crazy for saying so. Contrary to what everyone thinks about twins, Easter hated our sister.’