“Unlocked the door, yes.”
“He warned me,” she whispered. “Told me you were going…to…kill-”
Tears choked Yvette, and Patti took over. “Was Riley part of this?”
“Riley? Mr. Incompetent? I don’t think so. He began to suspect, somehow. Although frankly, I can’t imagine how. And then he involved himself with Yvette. My muse. Mine.”
“He was your brother. You killed your own brother.”
June looked at her then, her expression terrible. Grotesque. “He wasn’t my brother. He was my son.”
The words caught her so by surprise, they took her breath. “Your son? How-”
“My parents sent me away to ‘boarding school.’ That’s how they did it back then. An abortion was, of course, out of the question. A good Catholic would never resort to such a thing.
“Besides, Mama wanted another child. So she pretended to be pregnant. They faked the whole thing. No one suspected. No one ever suspects people who live in Garden District mansions to be anything but upright, law-abiding citizens.”
A lesson, it appeared, she had made good use of.
“I was fifteen when he was born. I was never allowed to speak of what happened, never allowed to refer to him as anything but my brother.”
“Did Riley-”
“Know?” She shook her head. “I gave him everything, devoted my life to him. And he did this to me.”
Patti stared at her friend, shocked by the skewed perspective. She’d killed him, but he did her wrong?
“And his father,” Patti asked. “What of him?”
“You mean our father.”
Patti stared at her, feeling sick, stunned.
“That’s right. Riley and I had the same father. He raped me. More than once, of course.”
Her dislike of men. The distrust of them that had emerged every so often.
“Mama figured it out, but looked the other way. After all, she got what she wanted. Relief from her conjugal duties and a son.”
If only she had known, maybe she would have been able to help, to get her help. “I’m so…sorry, June. You could have told…Someone would have listened, would have believed you.”
She laughed, the sound harsh. “In your world, maybe. Not in mine.”
Patti struggled to sit upright, nearly passing out from the pain. “You need help,” she managed. “I can make certain you get it.”
“No, I needed help at fourteen. Now I’m fine. I’m in control. Me. I’ve got all the power now.”
“Killing people gives you power?”
“The ones who betray me deserve it. You betrayed me, Patti. You sided with her.”
“What about Shauna and Stacy?”
Her expression went momentarily blank. Then she shook her head. “It was so easy. I called Shauna, told her a collector wanted to meet us at the gallery. That I was just around the corner and would pick her up. Same with Stacy.”
She smiled as if immensely pleased with herself. “You’ll like this one. I told her you were having a breakdown. That you’d asked for her, but only her. I knew she wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone-to protect you. Brilliant, don’t you think?”
“Risky, in my opinion. What if she’d told her captain? Or called Spencer?”
“But she didn’t. Here’s the secret. I understand people, their behavior. I can anticipate how they’ll react.”
“You’re so smart, are you?”
Her self-satisfaction said it all. “You know what your problem is, Patti?”
“Right now? I’d say it’s you.”
“You think too small. I can be anyone or anything I want to be. Old or young. Rich or a bum living in a box. Woman or a man sending love notes to a stripper.”
“And how’s that? You put on a wig? Some men’s clothes?”
“Again, thinking too small. You have to let go and just become it.”
What Dr. Lucia had said about severe childhood trauma rang in her head. How it could fracture a psyche, cause an individual to create alternate personalities.
But this wasn’t DID in the sense of alternate personalities wresting control from the “host,” Patti realized. June made the conscious choice to become someone else.
“The human mind is capable of creating anything that can be imagined.”
“Why, June? Why the girls? Why take their hands?”
“The girls were weak. They didn’t deserve my love. Each time they proved that. But at first…they’re so full of life and hope, so filled with tomorrows.”
June’s father had robbed her of her childhood. Her tomorrows.
Her expression softened. “My muses. They inspire me. Take me to new heights. Make me believe in love and happily-ever-after.”
From the corner of her eyes, she saw Yvette ease open one of the cabinets. Searching, she supposed, for something to use against the woman.
Good girl.
Patti worked to keep June talking, fully focused on her. “Then they betray you.”
Her expression hardened again. “Yes, they betray me. I see they’re weak. And foul.”
“The way you were weak?” she said softly. “When your father abused you?”
Her face went momentarily slack with surprise, then a dull flush crept up her cheeks. “No,” she snapped. “I loved them. They betrayed me.”
“What about Sammy?”
“A horrible mistake. A tragedy. He came to check on the house, to make certain looters hadn’t broken in. Caught me driving off with my sweet Jessica. He followed.
“You can’t imagine how upset I was. I drove on, hoping he’d give up, realize I was fine. But no, not Sammy. He signaled me to pull over. Get this.” She leaned slightly forward, as if still amazed. “To tell me my trunk wasn’t completely latched.”
“You pulled into Audubon Place. No one was around.”
“Yes. It was getting late. Everyone had evacuated. I got out of my car. I hid my Club…that anti-theft thing, behind my back. And I hit him with it.”
Patti listened in horror, imagining Sammy, his last thought before he went down.
“I had to do it, had to shoot him. I didn’t want to, I really didn’t. I loved Sammy.”
Patti wanted to scream “Liar!” That she couldn’t have loved Sammy. If she had, she wouldn’t have killed him.
But confronting a crazy person only made them crazier, and she and Yvette were in enough trouble already.
“What about Tonya?” Yvette asked, voice sounding stronger than before. Patti saw the cabinet was closed and she was holding her hands oddly.
June looked at her. “Tonya wasn’t your friend. She tried to blackmail me. She didn’t care about you, just wanted money. Stupid whore.”
“So you killed her. Hacked off her hand.”
“Yes. She approached me at the Hustle. I went there after Shauna’s opening. I was angry at you for flirting with Ruston. For going off with Riley.”
Patti shifted, wincing at the pain in her back. “You used your left hand to take hers. To confuse us.”
She looked surprised. “Not at all. Tonya didn’t deserve my kindness, my loving attention and care. That’s only for my sweet girls. I took her hand because I could. And I thought maybe I could use it. As usual, I was right.”
Patti fought to keep her fear and revulsion from showing. “You were the dark-haired woman the neighbor saw Tonya leave with?”
“Yes. One of many roles.”
She smiled and turned back to Yvette. “And I killed Marcus because he hurt you. It was for you, my sweet Yvette. All for you.”
“I didn’t know,” Yvette whispered, voice trembling. Her eyes welled with tears. “I thought you were like the others. All the ones who hurt me.”
Patti watched, heart thundering. She didn’t have a clue what Yvette had planned, she just prayed it worked because they were running out of time.
“We’re alike,” Yvette whispered. “You and I. I didn’t know. We belong together. We’ve been hurt by those who were supposed to love and prote
ct us.”
“Yes,” June said, nodding. “We are. I knew that but you-”
“Didn’t,” she finished for her. “Will you ever forgive me?”
“You had sex with Riley.”
“A mistake. The whole time, I was looking for you, and-” Her voice caught on a small sob. “I didn’t see, you were right there.”
June’s grip on the gun wavered. A tear rolled down Yvette’s cheek. “Hold me,” Yvette pleaded. “Please…just hold me.”
June helped her to her feet, put her arms around her. With a whimper, Yvette brought her cupped hands up, as if to stroke June face.
Instead, with a primal cry, she ground something into June’s eyes.
June howled and fell backward against the vanity, clawing at her eyes.
The gun hit the floor. Yvette dove for it, falling hard, elbows cracking loudly against the tile floor.
She got it, anyway, curled her hands around the grip and pointed it at June, her hands shaking so badly the muzzle bobbed up and down.
“Give me the gun!” Patti ordered. “Let me do this.”
Yvette shook her head. “I can’t. I won’t.”
“Give me the gun,” she said again, more firmly.
“She killed Riley.” Her voice trembled. “Sweet Miss Alma. Tonya. They never hurt anybody. They didn’t hurt her.”
“I did it for you,” June said again, dropping her hands. Her eyes were tearing, the skin around them blotchy and bright red. “So they’re dead because of you.”
“No! That’s not true!”
June’s stance and expression altered subtly, becoming more masculine. “If you hadn’t come on to Riley, like a little whore-” The pitch of her voice changed, deepened. “If not for you he’d be alive.”
“Shut up!” The gun bobbed. “It’s not tru-”
June lunged. Patti shouted for Yvette to watch out. The sound of the weapon discharging was deafening in the small room.
June stumbled backward, a hand to her chest, a look of utter disbelief on her face. Then she went down.
In the distance came the sound of sirens.
The cavalry. Thank God.
With a sob, Yvette dropped the gun. Drawing her knees to her chest, she began to cry deep, wrenching sobs.
Patti dragged herself to the young woman’s side. “You’re going to be okay,” she said, voice cracking. “We are. Because of you.”
She sobbed harder. Patti caught Yvette’s hand, curled her fingers around it. “You saved our lives. You saved mi-”
“I…wouldn’t…count on that.”
Patti’s blood ran cold. Feeling as if life had gone into slow motion, she turned her head. June had the gun. She lifted it, aimed at Yvette.
No! The word resounded through her head even as she mustered all her strength and threw herself on top of Yvette.
The gun went off. One shot. Pain. Intense, searing. She heard Yvette’s scream, the voices of others, shouts. Spencer.
And then silence.
77
Sunday, May 20, 2007
9:15 a.m.
Patti opened her eyes. Spencer sat beside her hospital bed. He was smiling at her. “Hello, sleepyhead,” he said.
She returned his smile, groggy from pain medication. “Hey.”
“Doc says you’re going to be okay. Bullet went through a fleshy spot, raised a little hell, but didn’t do any permanent damage. As for the scissors, you’re gonna have one ugly-ass scar.”
“Can’t kill someone as ornery as me.” She found the remote and, with his help, raised the bed until she was in a sitting position. “That’s better. How are Stacy and Shauna?”
“Dehydrated. Sick from the mold. Otherwise unharmed.”
She curled her fingers around his. “And you and Stacy?”
“We’re good, Aunt Patti. Really good.” He cleared his throat. “You were right about Yvette. And Franklin. And I was so wrong. If you hadn’t stuck to your guns, Yvette would most likely be dead and Franklin standing trial for a murder he didn’t commit.”
She had found Sammy’s killer. Stopped the Handyman from ever hurting another woman.
Yet she couldn’t rejoice. She had been betrayed by someone she had loved.
Seeing Patti’s expression, he curved his fingers tighter around hers. “I’m sorry, Patti. I can’t believe Aunt June…you know. I just…can’t.”
Neither could she. She might never be able to truly accept it.
“At least I know the truth about Sammy.”
She could let go now. Take the next step in her life.
Yvette tapped on the door. “Can I come in?”
Spencer smiled and stood. “Hey, Yvette. I was just leaving.” He kissed Patti’s cheek, then straightened. He walked to the door, stopped and looked back at Yvette. “By the way, peppermint salt scrub in the eyes? Good thinking.”
When the door clicked shut behind him, Yvette turned to Patti. “I’ve got something for you.” She was grinning, obviously pleased with herself.
“What?”
She crossed to the bed and plopped down on the chair. She held out a check.
Patti frowned. “A check? What for?”
“Take it and see.”
She did. It was made out to Patti O’Shay in the amount of ten thousand dollars.
The deposit to keep her from running.
Patti looked at Yvette in question.
“When I accepted your offer of fifty grand, I thought it’d be enough for me to start a new life. Give me a fresh start, a shiny clean slate. I’d go to school or start my own business.”
“You still could.”
“I’ve already started my new life.” She leaned forward. “It was never about having enough money. It was always about what was inside me.
“You took a bullet for me, just because you believed it was the right thing to do. This way-” she reached out and curved Patti’s fingers gently around the check. “-I’ll have stayed and helped you for all the right reasons.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Yvette smiled. “I could use a friend? A real one this time.”
Patti returned her smile. “I like the sound of that. Friends.”
About Erica Spindler
Erica Spindler's bestselling novels include Dead Run, Bone Cold, All Fall Down and Cause for Alarm. She lives in the New Orleans area with her husband, an advertising executive, and their two sons.
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