Stanton- The Trilogy

by Alex MacLean

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her father appraising her. His gaze drifted around the room, settling on the laptop monitor.

  He said, “YouTube, huh?”

  “Yeah. I was watching some videos.”

  Daniel flashed her a smile. “All right, kiddo.” He gripped the doorknob, pulling the door toward him. “Just thought I’d check on you.”

  When the door closed, Daphne winced. Guilt tore her up inside. Her poor parents, who loved her so much and tried so hard. She wanted to tell them what was going on at school, but she felt too ashamed, too embarrassed. Her mother would surely get angry. She’d want to know who the kids were. She’d go after them, probably even try to lay charges. Then everything would just get worse. At school, Daphne would be called a snitch, a tattletale.

  She stood up and paced her room. After a minute, she took some paper out of her printer and set it on her desk. She poked around a drawer, finding a black marker. Then she sat down and began to write her story.

  21

  Halifax, June 9

  7:23 p.m.

  The moment Seth removed the Santoku knife from the velvet tray and held it in his hand, he knew it would be the perfect weapon to kill Blake Kaufman with.

  It had a sharp point and a razor’s edge. Well made, easy to handle, and the five-inch blade was long enough to reach a person’s heart or brain stem.

  The knife belonged to a three-piece set given to Seth and Camille as a wedding gift. And for all these years, it had been stored in the living room closet with an ice cream maker and trifle bowl they’d never gotten around to using.

  Seth thrust the knife straight out in front of him, again and again, feeling the rabid animal come alive inside him, all snarls and gnashing teeth. He saw himself plunging the blade repeatedly into Kaufman’s body.

  Die, you fucker. Die, die, die.

  Kaufman’s face opened into an expression of surprise and pure terror. Only his face wasn’t the same one Seth had seen earlier in the apartment building; this one had red skin and horns and a thick ridge over yellow, soulless eyes.

  When Seth heard his own words booming off the kitchen walls—die, die, die, die—he stopped thrusting the knife. He set it on the counter and stood at the sink, shaking, trying to catch his breath.

  He’d have to figure out a way to get close enough to Kaufman to use the blade. It wouldn’t be easy. The man was big and rugged and had it in him to kill a man without a second thought. Seth would have to take away his advantages, level the playing field.

  Someone knocked on the back door, and Seth snapped his neck around, a shiver electrifying his body. He saw a shadow move on the door window, but he couldn’t see the person it belonged to.

  Heart thumping, he stretched over the sink to look out the kitchen window. A red Corolla sat in the driveway. It belonged to his sister, Dana.

  Seth groaned and shook his head. Dana’s visit came as no surprise. She’d been calling and leaving messages for the past several days. Seth now wished he’d talked to her, told her everything was all right. He would’ve saved her the hour’s drive up from Wolfville and himself a face to face with her. At least he was grateful she hadn’t called the cops to come check on him.

  Dana knocked again, more heavily this time.

  Seth shut his eyes, opened them again. His body still shook. Sucking in a deep breath, he walked over to the far wall, disabled the alarm, and opened the back door.

  “Hey, li’l brother,” Dana said. “Don’t answer your phone anymore?”

  “Sorry. I meant to call you back. Just got busy.”

  “Yeah? I was worried. I thought something happened to you.”

  Seth flashed a quick smile and tried to sound offhand, nonchalant. “Nope. Still here.”

  Dana cocked her head at him, searching his face. She was five-three and had their mother’s pear shape. Her blonde hair was straight and cut just above her jawline with the bangs swept to one side.

  She flicked her gaze to the driveway, and Seth followed it to the blue Accent parked in front of her Corolla.

  “New car?” she asked.

  “No. It’s a rental.”

  “Where’s yours?”

  Seth stepped away from the doorway. “In the garage. I have to take it into the shop.”

  Dana walked in and stopped at the kitchen table. Seth saw her looking at the three place settings and Lily’s white teddy bear with the red bowtie sitting in one of the chairs.

  “What’s wrong with it?” she asked.

  “Huh?”

  She turned to him. “Your car.”

  “Oh.” Seth ran his palm over the coarse stubble of his scalp. “Tranny is clunking. I think it might be the sprag assembly.”

  “Sounds expensive.”

  Seth stared at her. “Tranny work always is. Our rescue truck dropped one last fall. Cost over thirty-five hundred.”

  Dana raised an eyebrow and gave him a faint smirk. And Seth knew she didn’t believe him. One lie leads to another, he thought. Like bacteria, multiplying until it gets out of control.

  “How many clicks on it?” she asked.

  “Over one-twenty. Warranty is long gone.”

  Dana nodded. “Okay. So, I have to ask, li’l brother. What’s with the bars all over the windows? The three locks on the door? When’d you get all this done?”

  “Couple of weeks ago.”

  “Don’t you think it’s overkill? Wasn’t the security system enough?”

  Pity and concern crossed her face, and it reminded Seth of a look you’d give a lonely stray you saw outside in the pouring rain. You’d wish it well, hope it would find a good home, but you wouldn’t bring it in to dry off because it might have fleas or ticks or some illness you didn’t want to deal with.

  Seth wanted to tell her the bars and extra deadbolts were to protect Lily. That was something he had failed to do with Camille—protect her. And the guilt ate away at him like some merciless disease when he wondered what her final thoughts had been. Had she called for him? Had she expected him to rescue her? Had she died wondering where the hell her hero was?

  Seth would never be able to live with himself if anything were to happen to Lily. She was all he had left. He loved her more than life. More than Camille, and it didn’t shame him at all to admit it. Lily was Daddy’s little princess. His pride and joy.

  He had to protect her. He had to keep her safe.

  Dana wouldn’t understand any of that. She didn’t know how sick and broken and dangerous the world really was like he did.

  Seth walked over to the counter and leaned his hands on it, staring into the sink.

  Dana asked, “It’s happening again, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “You know. Please don’t tell me you’re seeing things again.”

  “No, no. I’m not.”

  “But you have this place locked up like Fort Knox. This screams paranoid behavior, Seth.”

  Seth shook his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Yeah, it does. Remember what happened before?”

  Seth exhaled a breath. He remembered all right. One day in March, he had decided to walk upstairs into his own head and take refuge there, shutting the door on the outside world. Twenty-eight days in the psych ward managed to bring him back out. Then the doctors let him go home with their blessings and a bunch of pills to keep his brain and mood in working order.

  “Are you taking your medication?” Dana asked.

  “Like clockwork.”

  “Is it helping?”

  Seth raised his eyes to the window, peering out at the street. Helping? He wanted to laugh at that. There wasn’t a drug strong enough to stop his nightmares or to ease that grief inside his soul. Nothing short of a bullet ripping through his brain was going to do that.

  “Seth?”

  “It’s helping,” he said.

  “Look at me. Look at me, Seth.”

  He didn’t want to, but he turned to her, forced himself to gaze across the room
and into her eyes. Dana drew in a deep breath and folded her hands together.

  “I worry about you,” she said. “This isn’t normal behavior. The bars. The extra locks.”

  Seth continued staring at her, and he heard her voice again, only not with his ears. This time it seemed to emanate from inside his head, rambling around in there.

  “My li’l brother has broken his brain again. He’s gone crazy...”

  A chill slid down his spine, and he tensed his back against it. He watched Dana’s lips, not moving, pressed tight together.

  “...Fucking crazy.”

  Seth ran both hands up the sides of his face and over top of his head. He spun around, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “You okay?” Dana asked.

  “Fine,” he said. “Just a little headache.”

  He heard Dana pull a chair out from the table.

  “Sit down,” she said.

  “No. I’m good.”

  “No, he’s not good. He’s having another meltdown.”

  “You sure?”

  Seth thought of taking out the Risperdal and Valium from the cabinet beside him, but he knew if he did, Dana would realize his brain was going apeshit again. She might panic. Worse yet, she might call Dr. Somerville, and he might have Seth admitted into the hospital again. That couldn’t happen. Why hadn’t he taken his meds when he got home from Kaufman’s apartment?

  “Seth?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure. I’m fine.”

  Dana walked over. When she put a hand on his arm, he flinched. Just go, he wanted to tell her. Please, just go.

  “I want my old brother back,” Dana said. “Jacob and Dillon miss your visits. They’re too young to fully understand what happened.”

  Seth felt a lump in his throat. “How are they?”

  “Good. They’re growing like weeds.” She squeezed his arm. “When we get you all better, you’ll have to come down and see them.”

  He found that kind of funny. Can’t have Uncle Seth around with his broken brain, kids. He’s changed now, scary.

  “You know,” he said. “I feel a bit tired. Think I’ll lie down and have a nap. If you don’t mind.”

  Dana gave a quick pout, as if his sudden dismissal had hurt her.

  “Sure,” she said. “Okay.”

  Head down, she walked toward the door and paused there a moment. She turned around and held him with her sad eyes. Seth could see the worry eating her up inside.

  “Answer my calls,” she said. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I will,” he said.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. Answer.”

  Seth nodded.

  “Promise me, li’l brother.”

  “I promise.”

  “Okay then.”

  She walked outside, shutting the door gently behind her. Seth felt like a ghoul for sending her off so fast.

  He went to the door and threw the deadbolts into place. Then he punched his code into the alarm keypad. As the timer started counting down, Seth returned to the sink and filled a glass with water.

  Through the window, he saw Dana back her car out to the street. She stopped there for a few seconds, looking over at the house, before she drove off.

  Seth could still hear her voice ringing inside his head.

  “Crazy...crazy...he’s gone crazy...again.”

  He opened the cabinet beside him and reached inside for his pills.

  22

  Halifax, June 10

  7:11 a.m.

  Daphne hurried to the bathroom. She lurched to the toilet, barely tossing the plastic seat out of the way when the vomiting started. Only a small amount of fluid came up, then dry heaves took over, squeezing tears from her eyes and making her stomach feel stripped raw and ready to surge right up her throat.

  Legs weak, she stumbled to the sink and splashed cold water on her face, rinsed out her mouth. She lifted her head and looked at the ghostly blur of herself in the mirror. Pain sliced through her brain, around the tissue behind her eyes, like someone had jabbed a sharp blade in there and twisted it around.

  She’d lain awake all night, dreading the morning. She’d gotten herself all worked up over school. Worrying about it. Obsessing over it. What cruel jokes would they come up with next? What mean words would they sling at her? What new rumors would they spread around?

  Daphne shuddered; a sudden flashback to Margi slapping her. Quickly, she dried her face, hung the towel on the bar. The clearer face in the mirror was that of a girl with eyes like open wounds, a sickly pallor, and dark smudges above her cheeks.

  Look at you. So weak and pathetic. You’re a disgrace. I hate you. Hate you.

  Closing her eyes, Daphne leaned her forehead against the mirror. She gritted her teeth, felt her stomach surge again. Nothing happened this time. No vomiting. No dry heaves.

  She went over and sat down on the floor, pressing her back against the side of the bathtub and pulling her knees up to her chest. The sharp blade dragged across her brain, and she winced. Dug her fingers through her hair and grabbed the sides of her head.

  There was no way she could go to school today.

  No way she could go back there again. Ever.

  > > > < < <

  Audra tried the bathroom door and found it locked. Worried, she rapped her knuckles on the wood twice.

  “Daphne,” she called out. “Are you okay in there? I thought I heard you throwing up.”

  “I’m sick, Mom.”

  “Can you open the door, please?”

  There came the thump of footsteps—Daphne walking on her heels—across the floor, the fumbling with the metal handle until the lock clicked. Audra pushed the door open to find Daphne still in her sleep pants and pink sweatshirt. She shuffled toward the tub and sat down on the edge of it, crossing her feet at the ankles.

  Audra froze when she saw her daughter’s face—pale, wrung out, older somehow. Her eyes were red and swollen, as if she hadn’t slept last night. Stress. Had to be.

  Audra went over to her, a mix of worry and love filling her chest.

  “Oh, honey,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m queasy.”

  “Is there a bug going around school?”

  Daphne’s jawline seemed to tighten. She averted her gaze and leaned her shoulders slightly away from her mother.

  “I don’t know,” she said in a small voice. “Maybe.”

  Audra studied her for a moment. She knew deceptive behavior when she saw it—shifting eyes, increased blinking, change in voice.

  What the hell was going on at school? Something had to be. Why else would a student with good grades and a perfect attendance record suddenly go into a free fall? Were kids picking on her? Was it because of her friend, Tabitha? Were they fighting?

  She touched Daphne’s forehead, then touched her own. “You’re not running a fever. Is your throat sore?”

  “No, but my head is killing me.”

  “Did you get much sleep last night?”

  Daphne pouted. “No.”

  “Why?”

  “My stomach was bothering me.”

  “What did you eat?”

  “Just the leftover lasagna Dad and I had last night.”

  Audra frowned, picturing the two of them sitting at the kitchen table, herself missing. And the image burned right through her.

  That was the one thing she hated about her job—being away from her family so much. She felt trapped between her duties as a mother and her responsibilities as a homicide detective, one who crawled home late almost every night after spending sixteen to eighteen hours up to her neck in human tragedy. Last night, she’d gotten home at midnight.

  She said, “People lose sleep because of stress and anxiety. Are you stressed out about something? You look it.”

  Daphne dropped her gaze and licked her lips. She began rubbing her hands on her pant legs.

  “Remember what I told you the other night,” Audra said. “I’m always here for you, h
oney. If there’s a problem, you can come to me. Don’t be afraid.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “How’d school go yesterday?”

  Daphne’s voice cracked on the word: “Okay.”

  “Yeah? You sure?”

  Daphne opened her mouth to speak, but then her gaze stuck on something over Audra’s shoulder. Audra turned her head to see Daniel standing in the doorway, dressed in a white shirt, black pants, and a purple tie. His eyes darted from his wife to his daughter, and a frown of worry creased his forehead.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Audra said, “Daphne’s not feeling well.”

  “No? What’s wrong, kiddo?”

  “Stomach’s upset,” Daphne mumbled.

  Daniel’s gaze lingered on her a moment, then he looked at Audra, and she could see it in his face, the concern, the understanding they both shared. Their daughter was in trouble, and it wasn’t just a phase of adolescence, some stormy period a lot of kids go through.

  Audra filled a glass from the sink with cold water, took out a bottle of Motrin from the medicine cabinet, and popped one pill into her hand.

  “This should help with your headache,” she said.

  Daphne slapped a palm up to her mouth and chased the pill down with the water. She gave the glass back, and Audra placed it on the sink.

  “Maybe you should go lie down, honey,” she said. “I’ll call the school and tell them you won’t be in today.”

  Daphne raised her head. “Sorry, Mom.”

  The sadness Audra saw in her daughter’s eyes made her miserable.

  “Hey, don’t be,” she told her.

  “We just want you to be all right,” Daniel said.

  Daphne swallowed, and her eyes moistened. Rising to her feet, she hugged herself. She looked unsteady, and Audra took hold of her elbow, helping her. She could feel the tremors rippling through Daphne’s flesh.

  Daniel moved out of the way, loosening his tie and unhooking the top button of his shirt. Audra wondered if he’d decided to stay home, realized with a stab of guilt that she couldn’t.

  She followed Daphne down the hall to her room. Daphne crawled on top of the bed, pulling the covers over her. On impulse, Audra went over and kissed the top of her head.