There was no transition. Ty never stood up. One second, Ty was seated beside me; the next, he was springing through the air, landing in front of Katie, bending over, pressing his face into hers, holding the knife to her belly. She didn’t have time to react, not even to look startled.
“Who the fuck are you, Katie?” Ty whispered these words, his mouth not an inch from hers. But though his voice was low, he uttered them so fiercely that her body bounced backward, the glasses on the bar shook, my bones rattled. The entire room shifted.
“You think what you’re doing is some kind of game?” His eyes bulged, his nostrils puffed. His hand tightened around the knife.
Ever so slightly, Katie’s chin quivered. “Please, Ty.” She blinked. Tears spilled. Her features reformed, became pretty again.
He stared at her eyes, breathed onto her face. Finally straightened up, held the knife loosely at his side. “You have to stop. You know that, don’t you?” His voice was stern but no longer a shout.
Katie nodded, released more tears. Seeing this, the other girls began crying, too.
I thought of my smashed phone. Would anyone notice if I eased out of the room? I tried to stand, felt a warm spurt from my thigh. Maybe I could crawl? My shoulder hurt. My arms, too. And my head. I was tired. My eyes wanted to close. Maybe I’d wait and rest a minute. I leaned back against the legs of the coffee table.
“… first, tell me why,” Ty insisted.
I’d missed something. Was I fading?
Katie wiped her eyes. Sniffed. “What difference does it make why?”
“Answer me.”
“Why should I?” Her attitude changed again. The tears vanished. Katie stood, defiant. “What are you going to do, stab me? Kill me like you killed Daddy?”
Ty stiffened. “What?”
“Oh, poor Ty. You don’t get it, do you? Why would anyone but you kill your old girlfriend? Or the principal who you accused of ruining your life? Or the teacher you had a crush on but spurned you?”
He watched her, eyebrows rising.
“Think about it, Ty. Who links all the victims? Nobody but you.”
“But I don’t have a grudge against Mrs. H. Or any of them—I hardly knew Mrs. Huff.”
“Oh, Mrs. Huff. Right. We added her because—”
“We just felt like it.” Trish grinned.
They felt like it?
“She pissed us off,” Maggie explained. “We come to get Seth, and she hushes us. Can you believe it? She tells us we’re talking too loud in the hall?”
“And fuck her. We weren’t even loud. School was already out.”
“‘Young ladies!’” Maggie imitated Joyce. “‘Quiet! This is a school not a barnyard!’”
“Remember hiding near her car? It was like we were in a spy movie.”
“Shut up, you guys,” Katie cut them off. “Point is, it doesn’t matter how well you knew her. We left evidence to tie Mrs. Huff to the others. Which means, to you.”
“Bullshit,” Ty said.
“Seen your Phillies cap lately, Ty?”
“How about your Eagles hat?”
“You fuckers—” His hands closed around the knife.
“Because hats like yours were found with the bodies.”
“Plus there’s a list of names—” Maggie began, but Katie cut her off. “No, nothing. That doesn’t matter.”
“What list of names?” Ty frowned.
Katie pouted, glaring at Maggie. “Fine. I’ll tell you. It’s a list of names of murder victims who connect to only one person. Which would happen to be you.”
Ty licked his lips. Nodded. Didn’t react.
“Okay, what about this guy here?” He pointed to Jerry. “He doesn’t connect to me. I don’t even know him. Why would I kill him?”
“You don’t need a reason. You’re a serial killer. Look, Ty. It’s not that complicated. You’ve already confessed to Daddy’s murder. They’ll assume you liked killing so much that you continued to do it, and they’ll send you away. But this time you’ll go away for good.”
Ty took a step back, digesting her words.
“Why would you frame him, Katie? He’s your brother.” My voice was a croak.
Katie glanced at me and laughed. Turned to Maggie. “Did you hear that? She sounds like a drowning pig.”
In an eye blink, Ty’s arm swung, slapped her face.
Katie sneered at him. “You’ll pay for these murders more than you paid for Daddy’s.”
“Come off it, Katie.” Ty shook his hand, relieving the sting of the slap. “You know damn well why I confessed.”
“Let me think. Hmm. Oh—because you did it?”
“Shit no. You know I did it so Mom wouldn’t go to jail.”
“Oh, please.”
“Look, I was a kid. If I confessed, they’d put me in juvey and spring me after a few years. But if Mom got convicted, she’d go away for life. And then what would happen to you and Seth? You were just a little kid and Seth was a baby. I couldn’t let them stick you and the baby in foster care. Besides, it wasn’t like Mom was dangerous. She wouldn’t go killing anyone else. She only killed Dad because he was beating the shit out of us.”
Katie stared at him wide-eyed and silent. Then she burst out laughing.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Another bout of laughter and snorting. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just … you said you didn’t do it.”
“That’s right.”
“Seriously.”
“Yes.”
“You confessed to protect Mom?” She was still grinning.
“Yes.” Ty steeled his shoulders. “I swear, Katie. I thought you knew. I confessed for the sake of our family: same reason Mom killed him.”
“Wow, this guy Ty’s a real-life hero, Katie.” Trish feigned a swoon.
“What a guy,” Maggie sighed.
“Shut up,” Katie told them. She shook her head. “All this time, you’ve believed Mom killed Dad? It’s funny. It’s really funny.”
Everyone watched her. Her laughter had subsided, but she chuckled to herself.
“Why is it funny?” Ty asked.
“Because it means you didn’t have a clue. And all this time, I thought you knew the truth. That’s why I’ve been setting you up as a sicko serial killer. So you’d get sent to jail where you can’t tell anybody anything, and even if you do, no one will believe you.”
“What are you talking about?” Ty looked from one girl to another. He looked at me. “Does anyone know what she’s talking about?”
Katie stepped over to him, reached up with her good hand and stroked his hair.
Ty started to back away, but the other two girls moved swiftly, surrounding him as they’d surrounded me earlier. He raised the knife, but Maggie and Trish each had knives at his throat. Katie took his wrist, pried the knife from his hand, held it against his chin, then tucked it into her waistband. Strolled over to the bar. Saw the bottle I’d left open there, sniffed it. Put it down. While Maggie and Trish held onto Ty, she surveyed the wine rack. Selected a fresh bottle. Picked up the corkscrew and began to open it.
“Relax, Ty. You’re going away for a long, long time. Might as well enjoy a glass of wine with your sister.”
“You’re sick, Katie.”
“You think?” She popped the cork.
Ty wrenched his body to get free, but he was lanky and out of shape, not as fit as the girls. They had him, held him down. “Tell them to get off me.”
“Not yet. We need to talk.”
“You’ve already told me what you’ve done. There’s nothing else to say.”
“Yes there is.” She paused long enough to pour two glasses of my finest Syrah. She carried them to Ty. Told Trish and Maggie to take him to the sofa, then wait at the door. Maggie got the knife, Trish the bat. They stood guard, Katie’s personal soldiers.
I lay on the floor, certain that I would never get out of the study. That I was mortally wounded. I wondered at my lack of emotion. Shouldn’t I
be having some poignant final thoughts?
I thought of the wine, that I’d like some of the Syrah. That I’d never be able to drink it again. That I was dying passively. But that I must have accomplished something significant in my life. I tried to think of what that something might have been. Saw the world far below me, felt my body fly. Circus school? I was dying, and the best accomplishment I could come up with was circus school—during which I’d messed up, fallen, and dislocated my shoulder? I let go of the image and my mind became gray fog. I closed my eyes, adrift in mist but still conscious. Listening.
“I really owe it to you to say this, Ty.” Katie paused. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Well, for confessing. For taking the fall. I appreciate it, really and truly.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry you’ll have to go back, but see, all this time, I figured you knew the truth and were being a protective big brother, confessing so his little sister wouldn’t be sent away—”
“What?”
“—to juvey.”
Ty was silent.
“I was sure you knew.”
“That’s not funny, Katie.”
“I’m not joking.”
“You’re trying to tell me that you killed Dad. And you expect me to believe it.”
“Believe what you want.”
Ty hesitated. “No way. You were too little. Plus you were his princess. His little doll baby. He never laid a hand on you. You’d have no reason.”
Katie was silent.
“Shit.” Ty’s voice tightened. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Katie, did he hurt you?”
“You bet he did. Son of a bitch.”
“Oh God, Katie. I’m sorry. What did he do? Tell me.” He was almost crying.
“He did tons of things. But the last one was what set me off. Bastard wouldn’t let me have a cell phone.”
“Dammit, Katie,” Ty fumed. “Don’t mess with me.”
“I’m not. He seriously refused. He said I was too young.”
I opened my eyes, peered through my haze. Ty sat slumped on the sofa, his head thrown back, hands covering his face. Katie sat beside him, eyes gleaming.
He sat straight, faced her. “Look, Katie. You were just a little girl. Too young to deal with what happened. I get it if you felt so bad that you invented your own story. But you didn’t kill Dad. Mom did.”
“The fucker was asleep. I took the knife in both hands and stuck him.” She pointed to Ty’s abdomen. “There. And there. And again up there. I’d have done it more, but the knife got stuck. I couldn’t get it out. He opened his eyes and made gurgling sounds. Blood spilled out of his mouth.”
“No way.” Ty shook his head. “You were only eight years old. No, it had to be Mom—”
He stopped, eyes riveted on Katie, who returned his gaze. And smiled.
Ty’s lips were bloody. His body deflated.
“I was sure you knew and I figured that someday you’d get tired of carrying the blame. I couldn’t risk having you tell the truth about what happened.”
Ty paused. “Katie. Dad’s murder is the least of your worries. Look what else you’ve done—”
“Don’t you get it? No one will suspect me. They’ll think it’s you, and not just because of the DNA in the hats. Because of motive, Ty. Why would I kill Mrs. Marshall? She loved me. Oh my God. She welcomed us into her office like we were her own lost children. Or Stephanie? Your beautiful ex. I never could understand what she saw in you. She was way out of your league.”
“You wanted me to go back to jail.”
“Ty. It’s not personal. It’s that I had to discredit you in case you decided to tell on me.”
More silence. More disbelief.
I couldn’t keep my head up. I rested it on the floor. Looked at my arms. The cuts had clotted. I thought about the cuts on the girls’ arms, whether they’d bled a lot. And about pain, the different kinds. Stinging and burning, throbbing and screaming. Words floated around me.
Katie explained that, sooner or later, Rose would have told Ty she was innocent and Ty would have figured out that Katie was the only other possible killer. Katie needed him back in jail where he couldn’t spill her secret.
Ty didn’t argue with her reasoning. He kept asking questions. Why had she killed so many? Why not stop after Mrs. Marshall and frame him for just one murder? Katie dodged, said something about hedging her bets. But from the doorway, Maggie called, “Bullshit, Katie. Tell him why we didn’t stop.”
Trish’s shrill giddy laugh jangled me.
“We didn’t stop,” Maggie went on, “because we didn’t want to.”
“It was cool,” Trish said. “Like being high.”
“No. Better. Like being high, having an orgasm, flying, and eating flourless chocolate cake all at once.”
“Which by the way, is there any food here? I’m starving.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Katie stopped them. “Never mind why we kept going. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I’d like to try.” Ty peered at her. “Tell me. What was it like?”
Was he serious? Did he really want to hear what it felt like to commit murder? Maybe he was stalling, convinced that they were going to kill me or both of us. Maybe he hoped that he could engage them and somehow convince them to let us go.
Or maybe his curiosity was genuine. Maybe Ty wanted to join them.
I turned my throbbing head so I could look around. Trish and Maggie had moved away from the doorway, had joined the others. Trish sat on the floor, her back to me. Maggie had probably gone to the kitchen, looking for snacks. I closed my eyes. Drifted, weightless. Soon, I’d be with Charlie. Dead like him.
I pictured it. We were on a sandy beach under a palm tree yet warmed by the sun. A gentle breeze brushed our skin. I leaned against him, and his arm was around me, holding me. He leaned close and I got goose bumps when his breath tickled my ear. He whispered something. I thought he said, “Fun.” But a moment later, he repeated it more urgently, and I understood.
I had nothing to lose. So I mustered my strength, told myself to reject fatigue and ignore dizziness and pain. I checked to make sure the group was still huddled together, absorbed in their discussion of murder. I breathed “here goes” to Jerry’s corpse. Then, slowly and quietly, spurred by Charlie’s whisper, I climbed to my feet. And ran.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Maybe pandemonium ensued. Maybe I just imagined it. I half-fell, half-flew out the study door while behind me Trish and Katie screamed for Maggie to stop me. They chased me—I felt them behind me, the heat of their bodies like licks of fire, and I raced down the hallway with my arms outstretched, reaching for the front door where I would grab the knob, twist, pull, and thrust myself out onto the porch. I would scream and run down the steps into the street.
But Maggie got to the door first. She’d heard her friends yelling and sped from the kitchen to the door, where she crouched like a catcher waiting behind home plate. Why was I thinking of baseball? I never even watched baseball, had never played it. The others were maybe two arms’ lengths back. They could lunge and grab me. My thigh screamed with pain, bleeding again. Images flashed in my head. Katie at my heels with claws. Maggie up ahead with fangs. No place to go, no choice except up. I veered left and flung myself onto the steps. Didn’t care that I had no wind. Didn’t stop to consider that I was weak and wounded. Adrenaline lifted me, carried me. I was steps ahead of them, felt myself breaking free. Instinct told me to avoid the guest room at the top of the stairs; they’d gain momentum and catch me before I could slam the door. Instead, I’d gain a few seconds by swinging left and sprinting to my bedroom. I had no idea if I was right but didn’t stop to think about it. I just swung around the newel post and went. Slammed the bedroom door, pushed in the lock button, and stared at the door, panting and sore.
Fists pounded, bodies slammed. Female voices cursed and threatened. But where was Ty? Had they left him alone downstairs? Would he call the police?
But how? I looked around my room. Oh God. How had I never seen what a trap it was? Why hadn’t I understood that I might need to escape quickly, that I might need a rope or extension ladder? Or an axe.
“Mrs. H?” Katie called, her voice sweet. “What are you doing in there? Come out. Ty needs to talk to you.”
“Don’t listen—” Ty’s voice cut off and he grunted as if swallowing a punch or kick.
I rushed into the bathroom. Would my razor help? A nail file? Or a nail scissors—I had one somewhere. I opened a drawer, the medicine cabinet, couldn’t find it. And why did everything come in soft plastic bottles? What was wrong with glass? Glass could hit hard, could break, leave sharp edges. I scanned the tub, the sink, the counter. Glimpsed the mirror. Found a ghost there, its hair rumpled, eyes raw. Skin stained with salt and blood smears, drained of color. A jagged bloodied rip on the shoulder of its t-shirt.
“Mrs. H. If you don’t come out, you’re going to force us to hurt Ty.”
The ghost frowned. I turned away, also frowning. Weren’t they going to hurt Ty anyway? Now that he knew what Katie and her friends had done, he’d have to die.
Except that his death would make him a victim, proving he wasn’t the serial killer.
Unless they killed us both, staging it to look like I’d killed Ty in self-defense while he was killing me. Of course. They’d do something like that. Leave us with Jerry as the killer’s final rampage.
My brain hurt. My body screamed. I limped out of the bathroom, holding my toothbrush and nail file. My bed looked fresh, innocent. I wanted to crawl under the covers but couldn’t. Didn’t want to get blood on it.
Katie was still talking, cooing, making promises and threats. I pictured her on the other side of the door, her pretty smile. Hellfire in her eyes. The others were quiet. What were they up to?
Softly, I heard someone count to three. On three, with great yelling and a crash, the door almost burst off its hinges. Chips of plaster fell off the wall.
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