Kiss and Tell

by Jacqueline Green

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Tenley’s voice broke again. Her shoulder shuddered against Emerson. “I saw everything downstairs. I saw the red room and the train and”—the last word rode out on a sob—“the body.”

  That word. Body.

  It pushed through the veil, sending pins and needles down Emerson’s arms. Her eyes flew to Tenley. “Body?” she choked out. “Was it…?”

  “Dead,” Tenley spat out. “A woman.” Tears filled her eyes, but she jutted her chin out in defiance as she turned back to Sam.

  Emerson sagged against the couch. The word was in her head now, working its way through all her defenses. A body. In Sam’s basement. Sam had killed someone. Sam would kill them.

  The veil splintered away, and all at once she could feel everything: the sharp prick of Tenley’s nails on her hand, the tugging in her lungs as she drew in more air, the terror flattening her insides. And beneath it all, a single purpose, rising, solidifying.

  Stop him.

  “I know who you are,” Tenley continued. Tears were streaming down her face, but she kept talking. “And I know what that red room is. I know it’s where you held Caitlin.”

  Time seemed to skip forward and backward. It was all a circle, one tragedy bleeding into another: Caitlin and the Lost Girls and now them. It all came back to this house. Stop him. She could hear the words this time. They came in Caitlin’s voice, whispered softly in her ear.

  She blinked, her vision refocusing. She dragged her eyes over the room. Other than the furniture, the decor was sparse. A large modern painting hung on one wall, and a thin silver vase filled with fresh flowers stood on the mantel. Her eyes traveled down to the fireplace. A set of wrought-iron fireplace tools stood next to it. A shovel. A broom. Tongs. Her eyes locked on the last tool: a poker. Its point was long and sharp. A perfect weapon.

  “And I have proof of the room,” Tenley was saying. “Photos.” Emerson could feel her trembling as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and pressed several buttons. “And now my friend has the photos,” Tenley rushed on. “If you want me to get them back—keep them from going to the police—you better let us go right now.” As she spoke, her finger kept moving over her phone. Emerson watched as she dialed three numbers. Nine. One. One.

  Sam laughed. A low bark of a sound. “Like I said, the house is in full panic mode.” He enunciated each word carefully, as if talking to a child. “All cell and Internet service is cut off. Any message you send will bounce right back to you.”

  The poker seemed to shimmer in its holder. Stop him. It wasn’t Caitlin’s voice anymore; it was her own.

  Tenley was saying something next to her, but it faded to white noise. Sam was preoccupied with Tenley. This was her chance. She lunged off the couch and wrapped her hand around the poker. In a single thrust, she had it pointed at Sam. It sliced through the air, driving straight into his shoulder.

  There was euphoria in fighting back. As the poker tore through suit jacket and flesh, as blood spilled and Sam screamed, the euphoria flooded Emerson’s veins like a drug. It filled her with power.

  Tenley was off the couch now, halfway toward the fireplace tools. Emerson jabbed again, but Sam was quicker this time. He jumped out of the way, hugging the remote to his chest. Blood darkened his suit jacket and drained color from his face. “You’re going to regret that.” His voice, so silky and smooth before, came out rough. He moved toward her, and he was someone else altogether now, not a person at all, but just parts: mouth and hands and eyes, cobbled together to form a beast.

  Emerson could hear Tenley behind her, lifting another iron tool. “We’re armed,” Emerson said shakily. “And you’re not. Let us go.”

  Sam approached her. Everything sharpened. The bitter smell of blood. The high, stringy sound of Tenley’s breathing. The feel of her muscles, tightening. Instinct took over as Sam moved even closer. She stabbed at him, aiming the poker at his stomach.

  Sam dodged the attempt, making Emerson stumble forward. She’d barely had time to catch her balance when his foot slammed into her back. She went careening forward. She landed hard on her knees, losing her grip on the poker. It skittered across the floor, out of her reach.

  Her knees were screaming in pain, but she forced them to move, to crawl toward it. She was getting close when there was a crash from behind, followed by a high-pitched scream.

  “Tenley!” Emerson twisted around. Sam had Tenley pinned against the wall, the iron fireplace shovel pressed up against her neck. She looked so small next to him, fragile as a doll. One twist and she’d break in half. “Don’t do anything rash,” Sam warned Emerson, “or I’ll smash her head in.” The eerie calmness had returned to his voice, and it sent ice through Emerson’s veins.

  Her eyes darted to the poker. Just a few more inches and she’d be there. She could grab it and run, smash a window, and save herself. She edged toward it. A whimper from Tenley stopped her. She looked back. Sam had pushed the shovel deeper into Tenley’s neck. Tenley’s eyes bulged wide, and an awful scratchy noise came out when she tried to scream. She was struggling, kicking, and twisting, but Sam was stronger. He pushed the shovel even harder, making tears roll down Tenley’s face. His free hand went to Tenley’s chin. “It would be so easy,” he said softly. He loosened the shovel just enough to tilt Tenley’s head forward. “This wall is concrete. One hard smash against it”—he gently pressed Tenley’s head back to demonstrate—“and, crack, game over.”

  Sam turned to look at Emerson. “Touch that poker again and I’ll do it.” His voice was a purr. The curve of his lips told Emerson that he’d enjoy it, too. Shame burned at her cheeks, stronger even than her fear. How could she have thought of leaving Tenley? She rose unsteadily and stepped away from the poker.

  “Good girl.” Sam kept Tenley pinned against the wall as, with his free hand, he pushed a button on his remote. There was a whirring sound, and suddenly the full-length mirror next to the fireplace slid to the right, revealing a narrow doorway. Behind it was a windowless steel box of a room. “In,” Sam ordered.

  Emerson’s eyes met Tenley’s. “You escape,” Tenley squeaked. The request made Sam smile wider, and Emerson had no doubt: He’d do it. He’d kill her.

  She walked into the room.

  Sam grabbed Tenley’s shoulders and threw her in behind Emerson. Tenley collided with the back wall, yelping out in pain. Emerson looked around wildly, but there was no escape. Just the narrow doorway, on which Sam now stood, the iron shovel resting in his palms.

  “This is my panic room,” he told them. “Which means it’s time for you to panic.” He pushed his remote again, and the door slid shut in front of him, leaving only steel walls behind.

  “You okay, Ten?” Emerson turned anxiously to her friend.

  Tenley pushed herself off the wall with a grimace. “Yeah.” She turned in a slow circle, examining the room. Emerson did the same. The place was truly a steel box. Even the ceiling was steel, with high hat lights embedded in it. There was no furniture, no windows. Just two large vents in the walls and a single black speaker protruding from the ceiling. “What is this place?” Tenley whispered.

  Static burst out of the speaker, making Emerson falter. “I’m glad you asked.” Sam Bauer’s voice flooded through the speaker. “As I said, this is my panic room. I had it specially designed. It has only two vents in it, as you can see. They’re computerized, which means that, with a touch of a button, I can suck all the air out of the room.”

  “He wouldn’t.…” Tenley whispered, but Emerson knew she was wrong. Sam Bauer the dad might not and Sam Bauer the tech genius might not, but this changeling of a man, this monster-Sam, would. Fear coursed through her, making her feel faint. She looked up at the speaker, her thoughts reeling. This was all a game to Sam. Which meant they had to keep playing.

  “Why did you do it?” she blurted out. It was their best hope: get him talking. Buy time, she mouthed to Tenley. “Why did you kidnap Caitlin?”

  There was a p
ause, then Sam’s velvety voice filled the room. “You’re mixed up. I didn’t kidnap Caitlin. My wife did. All I did was clean up her mess.” His voice dropped a notch. “That’s all I ever did.”

  So it had been a woman who kidnapped Caitlin. Emerson drew in a long breath. She didn’t think Sam had closed the vents yet, but already the air seemed to be thinning.

  “Why?” Tenley jumped in. “Why not just turn your wife in?”

  Sam’s scoff came through the speaker. “Because it would overshadow everything I’d ever worked for. After everything I’d accomplished, my legacy would be nothing more than that of a kidnapper’s husband.”

  Phone? Emerson mouthed to Tenley. Her own was lying somewhere on the house’s entryway floor. Tenley pulled her phone out of her pocket and passed it to her. Still no service. Keep talking, Emerson mouthed. She clicked open the video recorder on Tenley’s phone. They might not be able to send anyone the recording while the house was in panic mode, but at least somewhere, proof would exist. She lifted the phone toward the speaker, her finger dangling over the recording button.

  Tenley gave her a shaky nod. “Why did your wife kidnap Caitlin?” she asked loudly.

  “She—you know what, that’s enough questions,” Sam declared.

  “Don’t you want to talk about it, though?” Emerson burst out. If Sam kept talking, they were safe. If he stopped… “How long have you kept this all buried inside?” She fought to keep her voice steady. “Don’t you want to tell someone? Every secret you’ve ever had to hoard. How you did it? How you got away with it? So much brilliance, and no one could ever know about it.” She cringed but forced herself to keep going. “Before long, we’ll both be dead. We’re the perfect people to tell, because we’ll never be able to say a word.”

  There was a long pause. Tenley moved closer, burying her head in Emerson’s arm. Neither of them moved as they waited for an answer. Emerson tried to breathe, enjoy the air while there still was some, but her body wouldn’t obey.

  Sam broke the silence with a sigh. The sound streamed through the speaker. “It all goes back to Meryl.” Emerson’s finger landed on the record button. The red recording light lit up. “For so long Meryl was the perfect daughter. Our beautiful little girl. Then she met him.” His voice dipped on the last word. “The married man. The one who ruined her forever.”

  Emerson flinched. He was talking about Matt. “When I found out about her affair, I could never look at her the same again. My baby girl was gone.” Emerson closed her eyes, her own parents’ words echoing in his. Her fingers tightened around the phone. If she died in here, the last conversation she had with her parents would be a fight.

  “What does Meryl have to do with Caitlin?” she pressed, desperate to keep him talking.

  “I’m getting to it,” Sam snapped. His voice faded out, and then grew louder. He was pacing. “Meryl died in that boating accident soon after I learned of her affair,” Sam continued. “It seemed like fate. She’d brought such shame on our family, and she paid the ultimate price for it.”

  The words pricked at Emerson’s heart. She held the phone steady. She refused to miss any of this.

  “If only my wife had seen it that way, too. Then we’d still be together today. But Meryl’s death broke her. She was devastated, barely able to get out of bed. I kept thinking time would heal her, but with each year she got worse. She seemed to forget she had a husband and son. She was wasting away, and I knew I had to do something to save her. When Nicole Mayor happened to die four years later, on the anniversary of Meryl’s death, my path became illuminated. It was the perfect coincidence. I could convince my wife that Meryl had died as part of something bigger than herself; I could memorialize Meryl, make sure her death was never forgotten.”

  Tenley snapped her head up, her eyes wide as they met Emerson’s. “So I created the Lost Girl myth,” Sam went on. “I invented the curse. I started flashing two lights up on the cliffs and planted the seed that they were ghost lights. It was nothing short of genius. But there was a kink in my plan. I was too right; Meryl became too immortalized. Her memory, her story, her picture, they were everywhere. And instead of making my wife feel better, it just worsened her condition. The constant reminder of her daughter’s death was too much for her.”

  Emerson’s own shock was reflected back at her on Tenley’s face. They’d been right. All these years, all these deaths… it was all connected. “What about Kyla?” she asked. “Was she part of it, too?”

  Sam continued talking as if he hadn’t heard her. “Cassandra couldn’t take it,” he said. “Eventually she just broke. She kept saying she wanted a new daughter: a perfect, pure daughter. I said we could adopt, but she insisted that wasn’t fast enough. Then one day, I came home to find Caitlin Thomas in our basement, half-drugged out of her mind. ‘She can be our fresh start,’ Cassandra kept saying.”

  “Caitlin replaced Meryl,” Emerson whispered. It was what Caitlin’s note had said in the shed, her reason for being dragged into the game: Replaced her.

  “My wife was unstable,” Sam went on. “She didn’t know what she was doing. Even after I returned Caitlin to her home, I knew I couldn’t rely on Cassandra to keep it a secret.” For the first time, Emerson heard a note of remorse in Sam’s voice. “It wasn’t just my life I was worried about. If anyone found out what Cassandra did, she’d go to jail. And Cassandra wasn’t suited for that. It would break her even further. So I had no choice. Once again, I was forced to fix my family’s mistakes.”

  “So you killed your wife, and pinned the kidnapping on Jack Hudson.” The statement came from Tenley. Emerson held the recorder up, waiting for Sam to confirm it.

  “It was easier than I thought it would be,” Sam said. “I told them Cassandra drowned herself in the same spot Meryl died. The press ate it up. Everyone believed a grieving mom could be driven to end her own life. The ocean was deep enough there that no one ever questioned why her body wasn’t found. No one ever guessed that she was in my basement all along.”

  “The body,” Tenley gasped. “It’s Cassandra.”

  “Of course,” Sam replied smoothly. “It was the perfect solution.”

  A strangled cry escaped Emerson. Black spots swam in her vision, and she grabbed Tenley’s hand to steady herself. Tenley’s skin was cold and clammy, but her grip was firm: a reminder she wasn’t alone. “Why Jack Hudson?” Emerson choked out. “Why frame him?”

  Emerson could hear Sam sighing through the speakers. “Jack had dated Cassandra before she met me. He was always jealous we ended up together, and when he somehow found out about Meryl’s affair, he tried to use it to blackmail me. He knew what it would do to our family’s reputation. So, instead, I set him up to take the fall for my wife. Full circle, I like to think.”

  “But what about Kyla?” Tenley pressed. She was still gripping Emerson’s hand, her nails digging grooves into her skin. “How does she fit into this? And what about us, and all the—?”

  “Enough.” Sam turned the word into a command. “I’ve answered too many of your questions already. Time’s up.”

  No. It couldn’t be over. The walls spun around Emerson, a kaleidoscope of steel. “Wait!” She threw herself at the wall where the mirror had opened and pounded against it. Next to her, Tenley did the same. Their reflections were warped in the steel: strange, fun-house versions of themselves. “Come back!” Emerson screamed. “We have more questions!”

  “We want to know why you came after us!” Tenley shrieked.

  The only response was a low buzzing. Emerson spun around. The slats on both vents were moving. A second later they emitted a strange sucking noise. Emerson slid to the floor, her heart beating out a protest against her rib cage. It was happening. The vents were draining the air out of the room.

  Already she felt light-headed. Tenley slid down next to her. Emerson wrapped her arm around her friend’s shoulders. This is how we’ll be when they find us, she wanted to say. But she didn’t want to waste her breath. So instead she ju
st leaned against Tenley, their shoulders rising and falling in unison as they swallowed down the dwindling air.

  “Freeze!”

  The voice came from so far away, Emerson wasn’t sure it was real. But by the way Tenley straightened up, she could tell she’d heard it, too. It was punctuated by the shriek of glass shattering. “Police!” the voice yelled.

  They both leaped to their feet at once. “In here!” Emerson screamed, hammering against the door. “We’re trapped behind the mirror!” She was growing dizzier, her vision darkening at the edges. But she refused to give in. She pounded harder, ignoring the compression in her lungs. “Please, help us!”

  Everything was going fuzzy. Emerson heard a wheezing, and it took her a second to realize it was coming from her. Her pounding grew limper, her voice hoarser. “Help!”

  “Is someone behind the wall?” The voice was male, but it didn’t belong to Sam.

  “Yes!” Emerson sagged against Tenley, pounding harder.

  Footsteps raced toward them, the sound flickering in and out. There was a crash and a scream and voices.… Everything was growing fuzzier, sounds blurring together. She gasped for air. All she could focus on was the pain building in her chest. She fell to her knees, unable to hold herself up any longer.

  Whirring.

  Emerson fought to lift her head. Like a mirage, the door slid open.

  Huddled under a blanket on the leather couch, Emerson couldn’t stop taking deep breaths. The air slid into her lungs, fresh and cool. “Look, Em,” Tenley whispered. She nodded toward the wall of windows behind them, one of which was shattered to pieces: the police’s entry point. Past it, red and blue lights cast patterns across the grass. Under the light, it was easy to see Sam Bauer being led to a police car in handcuffs.

  Emerson turned back to the two cops who had pulled them out of Sam’s panic room. One was pale and bald, with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the other looked as if he lived on doughnuts. Right now, Emerson could kiss them both. “How did you know to come find us?” she asked.