Wrath of the Sister

by Shannon Heuston

  She nodded like a little girl who decided the safest course of action was to agree to everything.

  “Yes, hot, or yes, you don’t think I’m hot?” John pressed.

  She nodded with wide-eyed gusto, again reminding me of a little girl. “Yes, hot,” she said, continuing to bob her head, like someone was pulling a string.

  “Take off your panties,” Sam ordered.

  Lucy drew them down her shapely legs and kicked them free. They landed somewhere off camera.

  “Now show John your pussy. Spread your legs,” Sam instructed.

  She pushed her legs apart by placing one hand on each inner thigh.

  “Dude, all I see is a whole lot of fucking hair,” John complained. The microphone was picking up his heavy breathing. It was disgusting. “Take a weed whacker to that bush, why don’tcha?”

  “Spread your lips,” Sam directed, ignoring him. “Spread those pussy lips nice and wide. Show John your pink velvety pussy.”

  Lucy squatted and spread herself wide. I could see her swollen clit and the dewy, dark pink flesh of her vagina.

  John entered the frame. I wanted to cover my eyes. The last thing I ever wanted to lay eyes on was his hairy ass, or his dingdong dangling between his legs above his furry balls, reminiscent of a dog’s genitals. He shoved Lucy back on the bed, placing his dick between her open legs.

  “Sam,” she said over his shoulder, looking at the camera. “I don’t want to, Sam, please don’t make me.” Her voice was raw with panic.

  “Just give him a little loving,” Sam said. “He can’t get laid on his own.”

  John reached out an arm and shot John the finger while holding onto his penis with the other hand. He pushed it into Lucy’s vagina, bony buttocks flexing.

  “Sam,” Lucy cried. “Make him stop. Please!” She pounded at John’s shoulders with her balled up fists.

  I could taste the bacon and eggs I had for breakfast tickling the back of my throat. I was about to vomit.

  “Devil’s threesome, babe, didn’t you say that was a fantasy of yours?” Sam teased.

  “No, make him stop!”

  Sam walked into the scene. He sat down on the bed next to Lucy and put his arm around her shaking shoulders, comforting her, stroking her hair, while above them his brother continued to thrust into her, grunting like a pig. “It’s okay babe, shush,” he said, staring into her eyes. This appeared to have a calming effect on her. She took a deep shuddery breath.

  John pulled out, panting, and grabbed hold of his dripping penis, which had flushed a sordid color of red.

  Sam lifted Lucy onto his lap. She offered no resistance. His engagement ring glittered on her hand. She let out a scream as Sam bent her over and shoved his penis into her ass, forcing her legs open again. John stepped between them and thrust back into her.

  “No!” she screeched. “No! Please, no, please! Sam! Sam, it hurts! Please make stop, it hurts!” Her ragged sobs filled the air. Both men were grinning. They high fived each other.

  I couldn’t stop watching. If I witnessed every second of Lucy’s pain, then she was not alone. I was there with her.

  I watched. I watched until the last terrible moment, when John wrapped his hands around Lucy’s throat and squeezed until she went limp. And now I knew. I knew what happened to Lucy Harden.

  “Fuck, dude, you killed her,” Sam said, pulling out of her. He shoved her off his lap. She hit the wooden floor with a hollow thud and lay there like a broken doll. His lack of concern was chilling. How could he have made love to the same woman with such tender concern in the last video? “You don’t know your own strength.”

  John walked towards the video camera. I drew back, as if the nineties version of John Martin could keep on walking into the future. The last shot was of the trail of thick dark hair extending down from his belly button to shroud his penis. His hand snaked out, then the picture went to snow.

  I stared at the blank screen in numb shock long after it vanished.

  I just watched Sam, the man I love, take part in the rape and murder of his fiancée. Then shrug it off like it was nothing. Like she was nothing. There had to be an explanation. Some drug he took. That was not the man I knew. Maybe he had an evil twin he never mentioned. After all, he was adopted. Maybe the twin met up with John and the two of them hatched a plan to lure Lucy to their house and frame Sam for it. And the real Sam, my Sam, was innocent.

  Except that was an episode of Criminal Minds, not reality.

  Lucy and Sam were lovers for years. They were engaged to be married. He loved her more than life itself. He was haunted by her memory. And yet he’d destroyed her in twenty minutes flat. Shoved her off him, instead of trying to resuscitate her. Abandoned her body in the woods like trash.

  That wasn’t like Sam. Maybe he didn’t mean it.

  Didn’t mean it? Agnes screeched in my brain. We’re not talking about eating the last cookie, or even slapping you during an argument. This is rape and murder!

  Shit. Holy shit.

  My life was crumbling into dust. I couldn’t ignore this. This was something major. Lucy’s death wasn’t an accident. It was intentional. It was murder. I could no longer stay silent. I had to tell the police.

  I heard footsteps overhead.

  My heart began to pound. I had to get that video out of the VCR and back into its dust jacket now! And I needed to rewind it, too, else they’d know someone watched it.

  I bent down and punched the rewind button, frantic with panic.

  A toilet flushed.

  I didn’t have time to remove the video from the VCR. I’d have to do it later. Instead, I switched the TV off, then settled back on the couch, spreading the afghan across my lap. I opened my book. To the casual observer, I appeared to be blamelessly reading. Unless one noticed the red glowing light on the VCR, indicating a tape was in the machine.

  “Oh, wow, it’s snowing,” Sam said in wonder, padding across the hardwood floor barefoot to gaze out the window. “It’s really coming down. I guess we won’t be going out to dinner.”

  I gaped at him, unable to think up a response. Hold it together, Agnes commanded.

  I licked my lips. “Did you guys bother checking the weather at all?” I asked, my voice sounding tinny and unnatural to my own ears.

  Sam grinned. “Doesn’t look like it,” he said. Then his smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

  Think fast, Agnes ordered.

  “I’m afraid we won’t be back in time for me to go to work on Monday,” I said.

  Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s only Friday. It’s not going to snow for two whole days, and besides, we got the Jeep. No worries.”

  He glanced at the television and frowned. I held my breath. Did he see the light on the VCR? Then my heart leaped into my throat as I noticed the dust jacket to the video, carelessly tossed on the floor, conspicuously empty.

  Agnes was right. I needed to learn to clean up after myself. I vowed to start if I made it through this weekend alive.

  Sam turned back to me. “I think I’m going to try to catch a few more hours of sleep, seeing as though we’re gonna be snowed in for the rest of the day.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’m just going to curl up with my book and a cup of hot chocolate.”

  “Go for it,” Sam said. “You’re welcome to come upstairs for a little…” he wiggled his hips suggestively.

  I laughed. It sounded fake even to my own ears. Sure, let’s have sex in the same room where you helped your dipshit brother rape and murder your fiancée, Sam. “I just might,” I said.

  “See you then,” Sam said, waggling his ass as he walked away.

  Was he kidding? No. He wasn’t. He didn’t know what I just watched. Maybe he didn’t even know the video was sitting on the bookshelf, readily accessible. Perhaps he thought it was hidden in the crawl space. That would explain his alarm when he discovered I was in there.

  Putting the videocassette out in plain sight was a John move. He probably watched it and masturbated
. Heck, he probably got off on it being in full view, knowing what it contained. He was such an idiot.

  I was trapped in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with two killers. I was fighting panic.

  Sam took your cell phone, Agnes yammered in my ear, which didn’t help.

  But he didn’t. My cell phone was on the charger in my car. I put it there on the drive back from the American Diner because I wanted to make sure it was charged and ready to go for the trip upstate. Sam didn’t take my phone. He never had the opportunity. My mind was playing tricks on me.

  I heard Sam’s footsteps recede across the floor upstairs and relaxed. Now I could freak out in private. But first, I needed to remove that goddamn videocassette from the machine and put it back where it belonged. I leaned over to fiddle with the buttons, accidentally hitting forward and then play instead of rewind. I was at least twenty years out of practice in operating a VCR.

  The scene appeared to leap off the widescreen TV.

  A nude woman, a redhead this time, was the subject. Like Lucy, all she wore were lace panties. She had small breasts with sweet strawberry nipples. Her hands were fastened behind her back with zip ties. “Please don’t hurt me,” she pleaded, shaking her head from side to side.

  The shadows of two figures off camera played on the wall behind her. I froze as they advanced like two stalking cats, nearly identical shadows. John and Sam were both stark naked when they appeared on screen. They stared at the woman hungrily. Vomit splashed up the back of my throat as I fumbled frantically with the buttons on the VCR. Rewind, rewind, be kind, please rewind!

  The machine whirred to life. The picture blurred then vanished. The sound of the tape reeling back was soothing, even comforting.

  Ma, I think I might be in real trouble here.

  You just figured that out?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I had to get out here. I had to get out of here now.

  I rushed to the window and stared out at the falling snow. There was at least six inches on the ground. Pretending I wanted to go for a walk was out. And if I tried to flee, I’d leave a clear trail of footprints to follow.

  I sat back down on the couch, trying to quell my rising panic. Every nerve in my body was screaming at me to run. But I was in the middle of nowhere, miles from the main road. It was cold and snowing. I had to keep my head.

  If I acted like everything was normal, perhaps on Sunday we’d just go home like we planned.

  Except Sam took my cell phone.

  It wasn’t Agnes yammering away in my head; it was my subconscious. It knew what my conscious mind wasn’t ready to accept.

  I screwed my eyes shut tight and pictured myself calling in sick to work last night while everyone watched. In my mind’s eye, I dropped my cell phone on the table in front of me. I didn’t put it in my purse.

  That phone never made it out to my car. Sam slid it across the table and pocketed it, nodding along to whatever nonsense I was spewing about playing hooky from work.

  Why?

  The answer was obvious. Because I wasn’t going home at the end of this weekend. They had lured me here. This was no spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment trip. This was planned and choreographed. The last-minute aspect was so I wouldn’t have time to tell anyone where we were going. I was meant to vanish without a trace this weekend.

  I sighed. I bet it threw them for a loop when they found out I was supposed to work. I remembered them exchanging looks of dismay. But I fell right into line, calling in sick to work, giving them the perfect alibi. As far as my coworkers knew, I was home sick. No one beyond these four walls knew I’d gone upstate for the weekend.

  I walked right into their trap. I made it easy.

  It would be days before anyone realized I was missing, even longer if Sam decided to text my boss pretending to still be sick. He might be suspected at first, but he’d have an alibi. He was good at covering his tracks. He had years of experience.

  I shivered. I was such a fool.

  Think, Melody, think. You always were a smart ass. Now put that to good use!

  There had to be a way out of this.

  I still had a few days, because my best guess is it would happen Sunday, close to the time we were supposed to head home. Would they both rape me, like in the videos I watched? The thought of sex with John disgusted me. He was like a hairy skeleton. But that was the least of my worries.

  My hand crept to my throat. They would strangle me, like the others. Then dump my body deep in the woods. This was the best time of year, because hikers would be few with the winter weather coming early. Although once they failed to conceal their crime. Lucy’s body was discovered, placing Sam under suspicion. No wonder he’d had to leave the area. It must have been hard to hunt for new victims with everyone suspecting him of murdering Lucy. Then again, he was more of an accomplice than the perpetrator. Not that it mattered. In the eyes of the law, Sam was as guilty as John.

  How could he? That was the part I couldn’t understand. Sam loved Lucy. He idealized her memory. Every woman he dated, including me, was stuck in a losing competition with her ghost. And yet, he’d destroyed her. A woman he loved beyond reason. It was impossible to fathom. It was like he was two different people.

  Or maybe there was just one person. The predator on the tape. Nice Sam was just an act.

  What about Laurel? Where did she figure into all of this?

  They must be planning to kill her too. This was a real coup, two women for the price of one. Were they going to tie us up and rape us together, switching partners? Would John kill us both while Sam watched? Poor Laurel. She was such an airhead. She never saw it coming. Never in a million years would she have suspected John and Sam were using her to lure a new victim into their lair.

  I had more than myself to worry about; I had Laurel. She was my sister, my blood. We shared a bond that could never be broken. That was my trump card, what I had over John and Sam, who were unrelated psychopaths raised together in an incredible stroke of bad luck.

  I would sacrifice my life to keep Laurel safe. She was a mother. Her life was more important than mine.

  I cracked the front door. A blast of frigid air greeted me. It was so cold it hurt. I took a deep breath. It burned in my chest. That decided things. There would be no escaping this place under my own power. I didn’t bring the right clothes to brave the frigid temperatures.

  My gaze landed on John’s Jeep Wrangler, parked in front of the cabin.

  I would bet money John was careless enough to leave the keys in the ignition.

  I took a step onto the porch, wincing. I blew on my fingers as I thought. If I stole the Jeep, I’d have to leave Laurel behind. Would Sam and John harm her, knowing I was summoning the police?

  I couldn’t take that chance. I couldn’t leave her.

  Maybe I could trick her into coming out to the Jeep with me. Tell her she left something out there. Or I had a secret, something I didn’t want the guys to hear. That was suspicious, because Laurel and I were not the sort of sisters who confided in each other.

  I would work that out later. First, I needed to find out if the keys were in the vehicle.

  I trudged through knee deep snow to the passenger side of the Jeep. I opened the door, careful not to make a sound. I climbed into the seat. I nearly laughed out loud at what I saw. The keys were dangling from the ignition, hanging from a crass key chain of a naked woman with a flashlight for a vagina.

  My resolve to save my sister shattered in the wave of panic that washed over me. My brain was urging me to start up the vehicle and flee, drive the hell out of here, now. With everyone asleep, they wouldn’t realize I was gone until it was too late. I tried to recall the number of turns we took off Route 9. I was confident I could remember the way back, unless I ended up in the pond next to the road. The thought made me shudder.

  “What are you doing?”

  I gasped. Sam was peering in the open door at me, his blue eyes flat and angry. The soft new snow muffled his footsteps. I took
a deep breath. At least I wasn’t in the driver’s seat trying to start the Jeep.

  Sam leaned over, his face mere inches from mine. “Did you hear me?”

  I nodded, too terrified to speak. My hands were trembling.

  “Well, answer me!”

  I licked my lips and gulped. “I’m looking for my cell phone,” I said in a stroke of genius.

  “Oh.” Sam relaxed. “I don’t think you had it on you when we left last night.”

  “I was just checking. I thought maybe it fell out of my purse and rolled under the seats or something. That happened another time when I thought I lost it.”

  “Yeah, that’s happened to me, too,” Sam said, extending his hand to help me down from the seat. He leaned over and snatched the keys from the ignition, shaking his head. “Frigging John. Remind me to give these to him.” His lips quirked in a smirk, making me wonder if he’d guessed my true intentions.

  “What time is it?” I asked, like it mattered.

  Sam gazed up at the gray sky for a moment, as if he could tell time from the quality of the light. “I dunno, noon? One? Feel like some lunch?”

  “Sure,” I said. Once the initial terror had passed, I found I was able to converse with Sam easily. He seemed so normal. It was hard to believe he was a killer. There had to be an explanation. Perhaps I should give him the benefit of the doubt instead of jumping to conclusions.

  Don’t be fucking stupid, Agnes counseled.

  She was right. What explanation could Sam have for filming snuff videos? Was I supposed to believe it was staged? I probably would believe that, if not for the fact that his former fiancée was dead.

  “Laurel and John are still dead to the world,” Sam said. “I don’t think they went to sleep right away, if you know what I mean.” He swiveled his hips.

  “Gross. Please. That’s my sister.”

  My big sister, who used to let me play with her Barbie dream house. Who made me English muffin pizzas by ladling tomato sauce on top of a slice of American cheese, a recipe she got out of a kid’s cookbook, in the summer when both our parents worked, leaving us alone. We’d watch Tic Tac Dough together and do aerobics to Bodies in Motion on ESPN. Sometimes Laurel would be mean and hit. But most of the time she was nice.