Killer Secrets

by Sherrie Orvik

  “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “I said I’m fine,” she said as she pushed past him and headed for the front door. He jumped in front of her, blocking the door, and took her by the arm.

  “Come sit, Elyse. There’s something I think you should know.”

  “I already know,” she seethed. “It’s you. You killed my family, and now you’re finally going to kill me. Well, do it, then! Kill me!”

  “Kill you? Elyse…Maggie asked me to protect you. She wanted me to make sure you accepted her guilt so you could live a normal life.”

  “What? Why would she ask you to protect me?” She pulled her arm free of his grip.

  “Because you’re…my sister. Well, half-sister…Maggie wasn’t just my patient, Elyse. She was my mother.”

  Her insides convulsed. James’ words ran through her mind. “Your attacker is a relative.”

  “Then I’m right! You killed them, and you’ve been trying to find me ever since! Admit it!”

  Manning put his palms out and shook his head. “Elyse, I swear I would never hurt you. Please, just listen. I can explain.”

  Listening would buy time. With enough time, maybe James would show up. He’d done it before—come to her rescue when she didn’t think it was possible. She prayed he’d do it again.

  “Fine,” she said, trying to act confident, even though terror raced through her veins. She sat in the only chair opposite the couch, facing the door. Manning was small—with his back to the door, she’d have the advantage when she ran. She just had to wait for the right moment, and hope Manning wasn’t armed. “Explain.”

  “I’ve always known I was adopted, and I always wanted to know more about my birth mother. The timing was just never right…until my parents—the Goldmans—were killed in a car accident. I was eighteen. I struggled with guilt…we were supposed to attend a dinner that night, the three of us. My mother, Doris, was putting together a vegetable platter, and I was goofing off…the platter fell and shattered. She cut her hand open trying to pick it up, so my father had to take her to the ER to get it fixed. The crash happened shortly after they left. It should’ve been all three of us…I felt like I sent them to their death. And I was alone.”

  He looked at the floor, and for a moment, Elyse almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  “I knew I had to find my birth mother. When I finally found her, she…she knew immediately who I was. I thought she’d be happy to see me…and she was, but she didn’t want me to stay. She said being near her put me in danger, that I needed to disappear. She went as far as to say I needed to change my name. I knew she was schizophrenic, but starting over didn’t seem like such a bad idea. I changed my name, went to school, and came back to work here so I could keep an eye on her. I knew you existed—she told me, and you called once a year to check on her. The last time you called—”

  “You—her doctor—told me I needed to come see her because she was dying. But she wasn’t, was she? You just needed to get me back so—”

  “No! She was dying…and she needed to see you, to know you were okay. I did it for her. I didn’t know you’d be in danger. I swear. I thought her stories were a coping mechanism for what she’d done, but she finally told me the truth. I’m a twin, Elyse. My twin killed your family, and he killed—”

  “You’re crazy!” Elyse shouted and ran for the door, Manning right behind her.

  She yanked it open to find Officer Bailey standing on the front porch.

  “Oh, thank God!” She grabbed his arm and pointed at Manning. “He killed my family! He’s trying to kill me.”

  Manning stepped back and held his hands out toward Bailey. “Oh God, it’s you, isn’t it? It’s you!”

  Elyse whipped her head towards Manning. “What?”

  Manning shook his head. “You should’ve stayed away, Elyse. I tried to keep you safe, but—”

  “Shut up!” Bailey pointed his gun at Manning, his eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to ruin this for me, too!”

  He pulled the trigger, and Manning fell to the ground.

  “I’m sorry, Elyse,” Manning said. “I couldn’t save Maggie, and now he’s going…to…” His voice faded, and his eyes closed.

  Her mind raced. Save Maggie? And what did Manning mean, “it’s you”?

  “What did you do?” She said, backing away from Bailey.

  “He was going to hurt you.” Bailey said, his tone cold and matter-of-fact, sending chills through Elyse’s spine.

  “Don’t you…need to call someone?” she stammered. “Paramedics? Backup?”

  Bailey nodded toward Manning. “He’s not exactly going to be a problem.”

  She took a breath and puffed her chest, then started for the door. “Then I’ll call—”

  “No. You won’t. You’re not going anywhere.”

  She froze. She knew that voice. Terror overtook her entire body as memories of him dragging her by the hair flooded her mind.

  Keep it together. What…why Bailey? Was Manning telling the truth? Was Bailey her brother?

  She swallowed and tried to keep some form of composure. “I…I just want to wait outside until backup arrives. I…need air.”

  He stepped in front of her and pointed his finger in her face. “Now, now, Elyse,” he hissed, grabbing her by the arm. “We both know that’s not true, don’t we?”

  His eyes held the same cold malice as they had when his hands were wrapped around her neck that day in the woods.

  “Let go of me!” She shouted as she tried to pull free.

  “Three times, Elyse. Three times you managed to escape, but not this time.” She saw the silver flash of the needle and felt its sting in her arm.

  * * *

  Light filtered through her closed lids as she opened her eyes, slowly regaining consciousness.

  I’m not dead. He didn’t kill me. Not yet.

  She opened her eyes and tried to blink away the blurriness. If she could figure out where she was, she could plan an escape. Her head was pounding, her vision still fuzzy.

  Wait. I know this room—the dresser, the four-poster bed, the antique mirror—no. No, I can’t be here. I have to get out of here.

  Her parents’ room was exactly as it had been all those years ago. Bailey was sitting across the floor from her, one leg crossed over the other, his back against the wall. Manning lay on the floor beside the bed, his arms cuffed to the frame.

  “Do you like it?” Bailey asked, gesturing around the room. “I didn’t change a thing in this room when I bought the house. Well,” he said, “I did have the carpet replaced and I had the walls repainted. You know how stubborn blood stains can be. They just wouldn’t come out.”

  She tried to stand, to run, but her wrists were handcuffed to a pipe between the floor and the radiator. The metal pipe clanged as she shook and pulled, trying to free herself.

  “You know, Elyse, these old homes are built with such integrity. They’re quite solid. You may as well relax.” He smiled and pointed his gun at her.

  He was right. She wasn’t going to be able to get away. She was groggy. The pipe was solid. She was going to die in this room, like she should have all those years ago.

  “Why are you doing this? What did my family ever do to you? If you’re going to kill me, why don’t you just do it?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I intend to kill you.” He nodded toward Manning. “Both of you. It certainly would have been easier if I’d just killed you that day in the woods. I could have avoided all of this silly nonsense with James and Eldon…I mean Michael. You know, you really did a great job hiding after you left foster care. But Michael…he wasn’t as smart as you. I found him pretty easily, and when I found out Michael had taken a job as Mommy’s doctor? Bonus! I could finally get rid of him, then lure you back here and finish what I started. It really was a great plan.”

  “Who’s Michael? I don’t understand.”

  “Oh. Right. You only know him as Eldon Manning.”

  He shook his head. �
�It would have been better if you had just been home that day all those years ago. Would’ve saved me so much trouble, but no, little miss popular had to be at a sleepover. Since then,” he said, eyebrows raised, “you always seem to be just out of my reach. Or at least you were. Now that I have your full attention, I am going to finish you off. However, I need you to understand first. Your family,” he snarled, “took away my family. You see,” he waved the gun at her, “our mother didn’t want a couple of bastard children. Oh, no. She only wanted a perfect little family. It’s important to keep up appearances in this little town, you know.”

  “Our mother? Are you saying you’re my…my brother? You’re Michael’s twin?”

  “Half-brother. Mommy didn’t want to be seen as a single mother with a set of twins born out of wedlock, though. So, she gave us away; discarded us like an embarrassing pair of old shoes. Michael? Lucky. He was adopted by that rich couple and was raised with a silver spoon in his mouth. Me? Let’s just say I wasn’t as fortunate.”

  Thoughts raced through Elyse’s mind. Her mother’s depression. The articles in the box. The DNA.

  “See, turns out mother’s doctor didn’t exactly go by the book. He delivered Michael and me, but the Goldman’s had paid for twins—which we are. They wanted twins who looked alike, though.”

  He pulled up one sleeve, revealing a large port wine birthmark. “I’m not saying this was the reason they left me behind, but they picked Michael, got half of their money back, and went on their merry way. I was in and out of foster care until I was eight. Then I was sold to—I mean adopted by—a couple from Iowa who wanted a farmhand more than they wanted a son. I slaved away, all while Michael lived in luxury and our mother had her perfect little family.”

  Bailey narrowed his eyes and looked past her. “Funny, isn’t it? How siblings can go their entire lives without knowing the other exists, but still have so much in common? Michael managed to escape his fate, just like you. He was supposed to be with his parents the day of their accident…then he just dropped off the face of the earth.”

  He shrugged. “Until I found Mother, that is. She tried to hide the truth from me—Michael, and you—” He shook his head and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Always trying to protect the both of you. She sent you away, and after the Goldman’s accident, she convinced Michael to change his name and disappear.”

  He stepped closer to her, pulled up one corner of his mouth, and shook his head. “He really is a terrible psychiatrist. I mean, first of all, he gave himself away as Maggie’s son. Then, he asked me to help go through her things. You know, help him try to prove her innocence. In his defense, he did believe I was cop. Everything was going perfectly until Maggie threatened to tell Michael she knew who I was. It’s too bad, I didn’t want to kill her. I really didn’t.”

  Elyse’s mind scrambled. If Bailey’s weakness was love for his—their—mother, maybe she could appeal to his sense of family.

  “It must’ve made her happy, knowing you loved her.”

  Bailey pulled his chin back and laughed. “Loved her? You think…I didn’t love her! I didn’t want to kill her because I wanted her to live knowing the child she threw away took away the children she chose.”

  “She was sick, Bai—”

  “Enough with Bailey. Please, call me Joe. We’re family, after all.”

  Anything to keep him talking. As long as they were talking, she was alive. And as long as she was alive, she had the possibility of escape. She had to escape. She’d just started realizing what she wanted—she wasn’t about to lose it all now.

  “Of course, Joe. Our mother was sick. And she knew she was sick. She never would’ve given you up if she thought she had a choice. You and Michael were born before she got help, before—”

  “Before she met your father? The hero who helped her get her life straightened out? Yes. She threw us out before he came into the picture.”

  “She could barely take care of herself. She would’ve known she couldn’t take care of one infant, let alone two. Giving you up was probably the hardest thing she ever did. She was kind, and gentle, and—”

  “Shut up!” He stood and pointed the gun at her face, walking slowly until he glowered over her. “She was none of those things to me. Thanks to her, I grew up in a home where no one cared about me unless I had forgotten to do my chores. If she did anything out of love, it was love for herself and her precious reputation.”

  He squatted and pressed the muzzle of the gun against her cheek. “But then you came along. And then Evie. I grew up miserable and alone, all while she had the perfect little family. The family that was supposed to be mine. Mine!” He shouted, hot spit hitting her face.

  “Joe, please, you’re sick. Let me help you.”

  His eyes widened, and his head shook from side to side. “Sick? You think I need help?” He stood and began pacing in front of her. “You think I’m sick like her? That I’m crazy?”

  “No, not crazy. You’re obviously very smart, and you have your career as a cop—”

  He laughed, his laughter harsh and abrasive, and shook his head. “You really are slow, aren’t you? I already said I’m not a cop—not a real one, anyway. Papers can be faked, you know. Like you said, I’m very smart.”

  “Please don’t kill me, Joe. You’re the only family I—”

  “Shut up! You’re not my family. Oh, after you escaped through the woods, I thought about letting you and Michael live.

  “I thought maybe, just maybe, we could have some kind of family. But you never so much as thanked me for all that time I spent guarding you at the hospital. I tried to get to know you, but you dismissed me like I was some sort of pesky insect.”

  “I’m sorry, Joe. I didn’t mean—”

  The sound of a car coming up the gravel drive made him look away.

  “It’s not too late for you, Joe. If you let me live, we can get you help—”

  “I said shut up!” He shouted, walking toward the window. “Finally,” Joe sneered. “Your sheriff has come to rescue you. I’m surprised it took him so long to get here. You know, as your brother, I feel I should look out for you, protect you. So, you need to know that cops are no good. You don’t want a relationship with a cop. Oh well,” he shrugged. “You aren’t going to have one anyway, and this works out really well for me. Now I can watch you suffer the loss of your love before I kill you.”

  James. She’d hoped he’d show up, but now that he had, she wished he hadn’t. This time, Joe had the advantage. He was her guard, the one James had hand-picked, the one James trusted.

  Her only shot was convincing him she wasn’t involved with James. Maybe then Joe wouldn’t kill him.

  “My love? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied, her heart racing with terror.

  “Then you’ll have no problem keeping quiet.” He turned to walk away.

  “No! Shoot me,” she begged, unable to keep up the charade. “Do it before he gets out of the car. You can tell him Michael killed me, and you killed Michael. You’ll…you’ll be the hero!”

  The car door slammed, and Joe turned to her and smiled.

  “We’ll see. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. But one word from you, little sister, I shoot Warrick, and he dies just like his dad and little brother. Understand?”

  She nodded. She’d scream the moment she heard the door. Hopefully Joe would shoot her and James would have time to draw his weapon. If she had to die so that he could live, she would.

  She heard his footsteps coming up the porch stairs, and then the creaking of the wooden storm door as he entered the house.

  “Keep quiet,” hissed Joe, pointing the gun in her direction as he walked toward the bedroom door.

  “Bailey? Elyse?” James shouted toward the upper floor as he started up the stairs.

  “James!” The shout felt like it came from her soul. “He’s got a gun!” She hadn’t even gotten the entire sentence out when Joe stepped out of the bedroom doorway and fired two shots toward the stai
rs.

  “No! James! No!” She writhed frantically trying to tear herself from the pipe. Time slowed to a crawl. She watched Joe’s head sink lower as he descended the stairs, his laughter muffled from the sound of gunshots ringing in her ears.

  Muted sounds came from the bottom of the stairs. Even the clanging of the handcuffs against the pipe sounded distant. Her wrists cut and bloodied, she gave one final pull, breaking the pipe free from the radiator. She scrambled to her feet and started toward the door.

  The sunlight shining through the open front door cast the shadow of a figure coming up the stairs. A figure too slight to be James. She hid behind the open bedroom door.

  “Where are you, sister?” Joe sang as he entered the room.

  “You are finished hurting the people I love!” She screamed as she stepped out from behind the door and swung the pipe, still attached to her wrists, against Joe’s head. He fell backwards, hitting the radiator, then slid to the floor.

  She ran out of the room, coming to a halt when she saw the blood-soaked figure crumpled just inside the front door at the bottom of the stairs.

  “James! No!”

  She raced down and dropped to her knees at his side, using her bloody wrists to turn him over. His left shoulder was soaked in blood, and there was a hole in the chest of his shirt. She laid her head against his chest, but her ears still rang from the gunshots, so she couldn’t hear his heart. She could feel the slight rise and fall of his chest, though. At least he was breathing. For now.

  “James, please wake up! Please!”

  She had to get help, and she had to get it fast if she was going to save him.

  The squad car!

  She ran out to the car and managed to get the car radio freed from its perch.

  “Help! I need help…James is shot…hurry! We’re at 2422 Sawyer Road…hurry!” She dropped the radio onto the seat and ran back inside.

  Her breath caught in her chest when she came into the house. A puddle of blood occupied the space where James had laid just a minute ago, but he was gone.

  “James!” She shouted, praying he had somehow managed to get up and move. Only silence answered. Panic raged through her. A trail of blood led toward the back of the house. Maybe he’d gotten to another room and passed out. Her mind screamed at her legs to move, but they were frozen in place. She shouted through her sobs.