by Robin Cain
“I miss you, Frankie,” she tells the photo. “You were the only one who ever really cared. You always made sure I was looked after. You’d know what to do if you were here.”
It’s too late, he whispers to her.
Choosing unscarred flesh she hasn’t cut before, she makes the first incision.
“I killed Vivian, Frankie—that no-good, two-faced bitch—but I couldn’t help that. Vivian threatened to tell Frank about me. That wouldn’t have been good at all.”
“No, not good at all,” he says.
“He can never know I’m the remaining triplet. If he found out about how Pa made me do all those disgusting unspeakable things— that wouldn’t be good at all. Vivian had to die.”
“Yes, she did.”
“She’ll get blamed for killing Sadie anyway. I took her fingers, you know—sliced ‘em clean off after she was dead. Pretty smart of me, don’t you think?” Janie asks, reaching out to gently caress the photo.
“Brilliant.”
“I followed Sadie afterwards. I found the note she wrote her lover. That cheap whore. Cheating on Frank and getting pregnant with another man’s baby? Then planning an abortion to get rid of her little secret? No, that would never do.”
“No that just wouldn’t do.”
“I hid amongst the trees in his back yard while she went into his house. That’s when I smelled his rotting corpse. He certainly made it easier for me. The mess in the house, the suicide note, Vivian’s prints in Sadie’s car—I did it all. If Tyler didn’t get blamed, Vivian would. I had to protect you, Frankie...” She shakes her head in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. “I mean Frank. I had to protect Frank.” As an afterthought she adds, “He resembles you, you know?’
“I know, Janie. You’ve told me that before.”
Holding the blade tighter now, she draws another line in her flesh with the razor knife and watches as the color seeps out.
“No, Frankie, Frank wouldn’t want to hear how Pa back-handed you after you’d come to my defense; how Pa stomped you until you stopped moving. No, Frank wouldn’t like to know how you never made a sound or how you just laid there in a heap with your eyes staring up at us. And he sure wouldn’t believe Billy never saw what happened; that he wasn’t responsible at all. I stood right there, you know, with my dress nearly torn off from Pa pulling on me one way and you pulling the other. I waited for you to get up, but you never did. Then the police came and took us all away.”
“I know, Janie.”
“No, Frank would think I was nothing but discarded trash. And that would never do.”
Janie no longer feels what the blade is doing. Almost losing her grip on its now-slippery surface, she merely observes as it disappears, slicing deeply into the flesh of her inner thigh.
“Frank won’t have a wife to get in the way now. Everyone will live happily ever after.”
“Happily ever after. Finally.”
“I miss you, Frankie.”
“I miss you, too.”
There is no pain, Janie reminds herself. There never was.
She takes a slow, shallow breath. The deep ruby-colored rivers stream down her arms and legs, all joining together in one large puddle on the dirty beige carpet. She watches and waits as her dreams slowly recede into the darkness.
Acknowledgments
This book would never have seen daylight had it not been for the following people. My deepest and most heartfelt appreciation goes out to:
The ‘Starbucks guy’ for sparking the fuel of my imagination
Tom and Allison Taylor for being my very first believers
The brave and hardworking members of the Tempe Police department for allowing me the privilege to be a part of their group
Jack Rafferty (the Old Buzzard) for sharing his knowledge, encouragement and a few really great lines
My brother Peter for his continuous encouragement and blind faith
Tom Bird for helping me find my “author within”
Paul McCarthy for compelling me to dig deeper and not quit.
Catherine Rourke, Manjari Henderson and Jamie Saloff for their amazing contributions
My MasterMind writers group—Suzy, Nicole, Blythe, Michael, Mike, Sabrina, Nancy and Betsy—for sharing their remarkable talents and beautiful souls
Finally, I’d like to extend a special thank you to my husband. His support of—and patience with—my dreams means more than words could ever convey.