At her desk with a glass of chardonnay, Karen was studying notes from earlier sessions with Amelia. She sprang to her feet and hurried for the stairs. Rufus followed her.
She’d talked Amelia into taking three sleeping pills, just to ensure they did the trick. Amelia had gone to bed in the guest room about fifteen minutes ago. There hadn’t been a peep out of her, and now this screaming.
Karen raced up the second floor hallway and flung open the guest room door. Between the two quilt-covered twin beds, the table lamp was on. Trembling, Amelia sat up in the bed that was farther from the door, her hands covering her face.
“What is it? What’s going on?” Karen asked. Rufus followed her into the bedroom.
“I’m sorry,” Amelia cried, still covering her face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scream out like that. I feel like such a baby.” She lowered her hands, then slumped back against her pillow. “It’s just-I’m used to the dorm and all the noise. It’s so damn quiet here, I was going crazy. I started hearing things, and got scared.”
Karen sat on the other bed. “Why don’t you come downstairs and watch TV for a while?”
She shook her head. “No, I just want to sleep. More than anything, I wish I could have a couple of shots of Jack Daniel’s right now, just to relax.”
“Not after those sleeping pills,” Karen said. “You’ve been so good lately. I wouldn’t let you slide back now anyway. I can bring a radio in here. Or what about a sound machine? My sister gave one to my dad a few years ago. I think it has ocean waves or something.”
Amelia let out a weak laugh. “Sure, might be worth a shot. Anything but this awful silence. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”
Karen got up and started out of the room. “No sweat. I think it’s just down the hall in the closet. Be right back.”
She retrieved the sound machine from the closet’s bottom shelf. Karen prayed it would do the trick.
She returned to the bedroom with the sound machine, set it on the nightstand, and plugged it in. The sound came on: waves rolling onto the shore, and the occasional, distant cry of a seagull. “Tranquil enough for you?” Karen asked, with a tiny smile.
Amelia sighed. “As long as I don’t have to listen to the sounds inside my head. Do you know what I was hearing when I finally screamed for you?”
“What were you hearing?” Karen asked.
“It was that weird, frail warble Collin made after I hit him in the head with the plank.” Tears came to her eyes, and she covered her face again. “I kept hearing my brother dying….”
“You didn’t do it,” Karen whispered, stroking Amelia’s hair. “You’re not responsible for it, Amelia. Now, lie down and listen to the waves. Don’t think about anything else. Rufus and I can stick around until you fall asleep. Would that help?”
“Thanks, I’m sorry to be so-”
“Oh, hush, it’s no bother,” Karen said, tucking her in. Then she switched off the nightstand lamp, and made her way to the rocking chair by the window. She settled back in it, and Rufus curled up near her feet.
“You’re sweet, Karen,” Amelia murmured, over the sound of the fake distant waves. “I often wonder why you don’t have a boyfriend. Doesn’t make sense, you’re so nice, and pretty.” Karen heard her yawn. “I–I sometimes think about how lonely you must be.”
“Oh, I’m doing all right,” Karen answered almost automatically.
“Always helping people, taking care of people, and no one to take care of you, it’s not right. Karen, you…you deserve to be happy.”
Karen said nothing. She felt a horrible ache in the pit of her stomach, and tears welled up in her eyes. But she remained silent. She just kept rocking in the chair, and listened to Amelia surrender to sleep.
Amelia felt herself drifting off as she spoke to Karen. The sleeping pills must have worked after all. In the darkness, she could see Karen sitting over in the corner of the room, by the window. Amelia heard herself slurring her words, and Karen’s silhouette seemed to blur.
For a second, just as she started to fall asleep, Amelia no longer saw Karen Carlisle across the bedroom. Instead, she had a fleeting image of her father in that rocking chair, the moment before she shot him through the head.
Bellingham, Washington-six months before
A notice came up on the 36-inch flat-screen TV in the Faradays’ den: ALL MODELS ARE EIGHTEEN YEARS OR OVER.
Collin had been looking forward to this moment. His parents had left for Lake Wenatchee that Saturday morning. This was the 16-year-old’s first weekend home alone ever, and to get the debauchery rolling, he’d borrowed three DVDs from his friend, Matt Leonard, whose brother had smuggled them home from college: Whore of the Worlds, Booty Call 9-1-1, and Missionary Impossible.
He was having some of the guys over for poker tonight; at least, that was the plan, if one of them could get his hands on a case of beer and some cigars. Matt would be coming over in about two hours, which gave Collin plenty of time to watch one of the movies and whack off. He’d drawn all the shades and peeled down to his underpants. His hand was already inching past the elastic waistband of his briefs as he watched the opening photo credits for Whore of the Worlds. A pretty brunette with perky breasts was shown from the waist up, gyrating on something that seemed to have the kick of a mechanical bull. The credits ran: Amber Anniston as Tami Cruz. Next, a long-haired blonde with a huge rack stared seductively at the camera with her finger in her mouth: Sheridan Madrid as Sheri Savoy.
And then the front doorbell rang.
“Damn it!” Collin hissed, switching off the DVD player. Springing up from the sofa, he frantically dressed and hid the DVD covers behind a sofa pillow. The doorbell rang again and again. “Matt, if that’s you, I’m gonna kill you,” Collin muttered. He hurried to the front door, and checked the peephole. “What the hell?” he whispered. Then he unlocked the door and opened it. “Amelia, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, nice way to greet your sister,” she said with an abrupt laugh. She brushed past him and sauntered into the house. “Mom and Dad are in Lake Wenatchee, and little brother is home alone, which means I caught you in the middle of getting drunk or bopping the bologna. Which is it?”
Collin ignored the question. “Aren’t you supposed to be at some Booze Busters retreat in Port Townsend?”
She headed into the kitchen and started hunting through the cupboards. “Don’t remind me. They just dropped me off. I told them I needed to get my allergy medication.”
“Allergy medication?” Collin repeated.
“Yeah. Good one, huh? Anyway, they’re coming back to pick me up in a half hour.” She started checking the lower cabinets. “Where the fuck are they hiding the booze nowadays?”
“To the left of the sink, where they’ve always kept it,” Collin replied, squinting at her. “Why are you acting so weird?”
She pulled a bottle of bourbon out of the cabinet. “Well, I’m not drunk, if that’s what you mean, little brother.” She took two highball glasses from the upper cupboard. “At least, I’m not drunk, yet.”
Collin stared at her as she filled both glasses about halfway. He didn’t think his sister was drunk. She just wasn’t acting much like herself. Since when did she ever refer to him as little brother? He’d never seen Amelia wearing so much makeup in the middle of the day. She was acting like she did that time a few weeks back when she’d unexpectedly shown up at his school. He wondered if it was being away at college that had changed her. “What’s going on?” he asked. “What’s with the hotshot act?”
She handed him a glass. “You’re the hotshot, all alone for the weekend. If you plan to get shitfaced, I want to see it.” She clinked her glass against his. “C’mon, chug it.”
“Are you nuts? I’m not getting drunk with you.”
“Oh, c’mon, don’t be such a pussy. Have some fun.”
Collin shook his head and put down the half-full glass. “I’m not sure this is such a great idea, Amelia. You know you shouldn’t…�
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She frowned at him. “You know, you can be a real asshole sometimes.”
He looked at her, incredulous. “What?”
“You heard me,” she muttered, plopping down at the breakfast table. “When’s the last time we saw each other?”
“Three weeks ago, when you came home for the weekend,” he replied, folding his arms. “And before that it was the time you dropped by my school in the middle of the day. Of course, later, you didn’t remember that, so maybe it doesn’t count.”
Apparently, it had been one of her episodes with lost time. He wondered if later she’d have any memory of this afternoon. She sure was acting bizarre.
“Three weeks we haven’t seen each other,” she said. “I come by to say hello, and what do I get?” She made a face and dropped her voice an octave to sound like a surly Neanderthal. “‘What are you doing here?’ Real sweet, Collin. Thanks a lot. How do you think that makes me feel?”
Collin sighed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s bad enough everyone considers me the family fuckup, and you-you pee perfume. Of course, I’m not even really part of this family, being adopted and all.”
“Oh, c’mon, Amelia,” he said, sitting down at the table with her. “That’s bullshit. Why do you even say stuff like that?”
“You’re always so disgustingly good,” she sneered. “With Mom and Dad gone for the weekend, I figured you’d finally let loose a little, maybe get drunk or high or something. And I just wanted to be here to see it. Plus to be perfectly honest, I could really use a drink. Sorry if that offends you. But you’re making me feel like shit. Are you too fucking good to have a couple of shots with me?”
“All right, okay, fine. I’ll have a drink. Jeesh!” He got up from the table and retrieved the highball glass. He quickly tipped it back and took a swallow. It burned. Unlike most of his friends, he really wasn’t much of a drinker. Since his sister had a problem with alcohol, he’d purposely avoided it.
She broke into applause. “Way to go! Finish it!”
His throat was still on fire, but Collin forced down the rest of the glass. He gasped for air. The strong, medicine-like taste was still in his mouth. “Okay?” he asked. “God, Amelia, I don’t know how you can stand to drink this stuff.”
“I’m so proud of you,” she said, laughing. “You’re gonna feel fantastic in a few minutes.”
Collin numbly stared at her. When she laughed, she didn’t sound like herself. Or maybe he was drunk already? It couldn’t happen that fast, could it?
“I’ll make a deal with you.” With a sly grin, she nodded at her glass. “I won’t have this if you drink it for me.”
“No way!” he protested. “Give me a break.”
“Why not? C’mon, it’ll be fun. You can be the drunken screwup for a change, and I’ll be the perfect child and stay on the wagon. It’s role reversal. You’re not driving anyplace. Go for it. You’ll be doing us both some good.”
Collin was shaking his head.
“What can happen? At the very worst, you’ll get hammered. You were gonna do that later tonight, anyway. Right?”
“Okay, okay,” he said, feeling a little funny as he walked to the breakfast table. Collin picked up her glass, and guzzled down the bourbon in two gulps. He coughed and his eyes watered up.
She applauded again. “That’s just like you-rescuing me from myself. You took a bullet for me, little brother.”
He sank down on the chair beside her and caught his breath. There she went again with that little brother bit. Maybe it was something she’d picked up at school. Why was it so important that she see him get drunk?
He started to laugh. “You’re acting so completely weird today,” he said, grinning wildly. “I swear to God, it’s like I don’t even know you, big sister. I mean, you’ve always been weird, and I’ve always loved you for it, Amelia. But this-today-is a whole different type of weird. Ha! Or maybe it’s me. Am I shitfaced already?” He snickered again, and realized he must indeed be drunk, because he couldn’t stop babbling.
Collin reminisced out loud about the times Amelia had raised hell growing up, all the trouble she’d gotten into. He talked about how she’d driven their parents crazy, and he imitated their dad when he went ballistic over something she’d done: “‘Ye Gods, what’s wrong with her?’ Ha! When Dad starts in with the Ye Gods, then watch out, we’re all in trouble!” Collin couldn’t stop laughing.
But then he took a moment to look at her, and Collin realized she hadn’t laughed once. She just sat there with a cryptic smile on her face.
“I’m sorry, Amelia,” he muttered. “You-you know I love you. I do. It’s just that, Ye Gods, I think I’m drunk!” He chuckled again.
“We need to get you some fresh air.” She stood, and then helped him to his feet. “This might not have been such a terrific idea. I don’t want you sick. C’mon, little brother….”
Collin felt a bit woozy, but he could certainly walk on his own. He didn’t need her helping him. As they moved into the den, he stole a look at the sofa, where, for the moment, the throw pillow covered up those porn DVDs.
She went to the sliding glass door, and opened the curtain. She struggled to move the door until she finally seemed to notice the stubby, thick beam of wood braced on the floor, tracking for extra insurance against break-ins. Funny, she seemed to have completely forgotten it was there. She moved the beam aside, then slid open the door. “There now,” she said. “Why don’t we sit down on the couch, watch some TV-”
“No, no, no,” he protested, shaking his head. All Collin could think about was his sister switching on the TV and discovering Whore of the Worlds there. “Let’s go outside, down to the dock. You’re right, I need some air. C’mon…”
Leading the way, Collin staggered down the slight slope in their backyard toward the dock, and he realized he was truly drunk.
It was a cool, crisp May afternoon. The sun glistened off Lake Whatcom, and across the calm water he could see the mountains in the distance. The wooden dock was slightly neglected, because they didn’t have a boat. But it was still sturdy, with an upper deck that had a railing, and a lower platform that had nothing between it and the water directly below. Ever since they were kids, he and Amelia and their friends often used the dock to sun themselves, and Lake Whatcom was quite swimmable.
Collin glanced over his shoulder. She was following him with the stubby wood beam in her hand. One moment, she had it slung over her shoulder like a baseball bat, the next, she used it like a walking stick as she made her way down the grassy slope. Her black hair fluttered in the wind, and she grinned at him. She seemed to enjoy seeing him inebriated.
Though he might have felt more secure up on the dock’s upper platform-with the railing-Collin ventured down three steps to the lower, open tier. The water lapped up almost to the edge of its wooden planks. He could hear her stepping down behind him. “Boy, the lake is beautiful today,” he murmured, squinting out at its glimmering surface.
“You’re slurring your words,” she said. “You got drunk a lot faster than I expected you would.”
He wasn’t sure exactly what she meant. She’d been expecting him to get drunk? But Collin nodded anyway, and kept gazing at the lake and mountains. “Yeah, I am pretty hammered. Do me a favor, okay?”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Please make sure I don’t do anything stupid. I hear all these stories about dumb-ass teenagers getting drunk and they somehow end up getting themselves killed. I don’t want that to happen to me.”
“Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late,” she replied.
Collin froze. That wasn’t his sister’s voice.
“You’re not Amelia,” he murmured.
He swiveled around to see her raising the wooden beam over her head. Collin didn’t even have time to react, or ward off the blow. All of a sudden, that thing came crashing down on him, and Collin Faraday heard his own skull crack.
While hosing the blood off the do
ck, she thought about the funny, garbled cry Collin had made before falling into the lake. He’d sounded like a feeble old woman. And that strange, gurgling noise, it must have been the blood in his throat when he’d tried to scream out. Whatever it had been, she snickered as she remembered it now.
Her brother’s foot had caught on some of the pilings under the dock, and he was floating facedown in the water just below her.
He was their favorite, the child they’d been hoping and trying for until deciding to adopt, and she’d been a mere compromise.
They would mourn him. But they wouldn’t have to grieve for very long. Soon enough, they would be dead, too. Soon enough, she would have no family-or friends. She would be the only one left.
And that was exactly the way she wanted it.
Seattle-six months later
Karen woke up, and suddenly she knew someone else was in her bedroom.
Lying in bed with the covers up to her neck, she’d been lightly dozing for the last three hours. She hadn’t heard a peep from Amelia down the hall, just that machine churning out the sounds of waves and seagulls. Rufus had fallen asleep at the foot of Karen’s bed, but now she heard him sitting up. His dog tags jingled. He started to growl.
She heard a floorboard creak. For a moment, she couldn’t move.
Finally, and very slowly, Karen reached under the extra pillow beside her and found her father’s revolver.
She could almost feel someone hovering over her.
She quickly sat up in bed. “I’ve got a gun!” she said.
Rufus started barking furiously.
“God, Karen, no, wait!”
Blindly reaching for the nightstand lamp, she fanned at the air for a moment before she found the light and switched it on. “Amelia,” she murmured, catching her breath. “Rufus, hush! That’s enough.”
“Oh, Karen, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, a hand clutching at the lapels of her robe. “I got turned around. I thought this was the bathroom….”
Rufus kept growling at her, punctuating it with an occasional bark.
“Rufus, cease and desist,” Karen said. Her heart was still racing. She tried to smile at her. “It’s the next door down, Amelia.”
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