by D E Dennis
Monica dropped her fist against the door, pounding firmly.
The door swung open on squeaking hinges and Harper Rowe’s killer stood in front of her, a smile spreading across their face.
“Monica,” Hazel Antarr said brightly. “This is a nice surprise. What are you doing here?”
“Hazel,” she replied. “I need to speak to you.”
“Sure.” She stepped to the side. “Come in.”
“Here is fine. Is Greg home?”
She wasn’t about to step into the house of a deranged killer with no backup. She only hoped that Spencer got her message.
“No, he’s not,” Hazel said slowly, smile dimming. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“Yes,” she said bluntly, clutching her keys tighter to still her trembling hands. “Hazel, the last time I was here, I saw a doll. A red-haired doll with a porcelain face, green dress, and a horrible haircut.” Monica looked at her, face tight with anger. “I saw that doll again today, Hazel. When I was going through the photos of little Andrea Taylor. Same red hair, same green dress, same messy haircut from a child who dreamed of being a hairdresser and loved to practice on her toys.”
The smile was completely gone now. Hazel gazed at her, face expressionless. Empty.
“I remembered something when I saw that photo, Hazel. Andrea Taylor was given a box full of presents from her biological mother, and among them, was a one-of-a-kind, handmade doll modeled to look like Rowan Presley.
“According to the news reports, on the day she went missing, Andrea was sent to school with a present that the police never found. They assumed the killer took it, keeping it as a trophy. Harper knew about the doll, of course she did, but she never knew where it went until she came to interview you for the article. Why was it here, Hazel? In your house.”
Hazel’s face hadn’t changed. She had made no move or sound. She just looked at Monica with a dead-eyed stare that sent a chill up her spine.
“Why, Hazel?” Monica repeated, clenching her fists. “Tell me!”
Hazel’s eyes flicked over her shoulder, then moved back to her. Frowning, she took a step toward her, gaze softening. “Monica, what exactly are you trying to accuse me of?” she exclaimed. “Yes, I have a doll. My father gave it to me when I was little. You’re saying it belonged to Andrea Taylor?”
Monica moved back, keeping the distance between them. “You’re claiming you didn’t know it was hers?”
“Of course I didn’t know,” she cried, placing her hand over her heart. “I wouldn’t have kept it if I did. My father must have taken it from her and then given it to me, the sick animal! And Harper must have realized that and confronted him. Monica, this is the proof we’ve been waiting for. We can finally put my father away... for... good...” She trailed off, eyes wide with confusion.
Monica kept it up, slow clapping her performance. “Very good, Hazel. I might have bought that if I didn’t know you and Andrea were in the same class. She brought the doll to show-and-tell. Stood up and presented it to the whole class, so if Daddy Antarr gave this little doll to you with the green dress and funny hair, you would have known what it was, and more importantly, who it belonged to.
“So there are two options: your father gave you the doll and you kept it, knowing it was the proof you’ve ‘been waiting for,’ but yet never handed it over to the police. Or you took the doll yourself when you killed Andrea Taylor.”
Hazel stood stiffly, not saying anything, the fake sorrow frozen on her face.
“Nothing to say?” Monica taunted. “Not going to spin me any more lies?”
Lifting her chin, Hazel dropped the look. “No,” she said coldly, “no more lies.”
She moved fast, leaping for her, but Monica was ready. She blocked her first punch, bringing her hand up to knock it aside and swung with the other fist, pulling a shriek out of Hazel as she caught her across the jaw.
That Monica was expecting. What she wasn’t expecting was for Hazel to rally so quickly, whipping her head back around. She lurched back, her knee coming up and delivering a side kick that Monica hurried to block.
Monica got her hands up but the force of the blow knocked her off-balance and sent her flying off the porch...
...into the waiting grasp of Gregory Antarr.
“Get her inside,” Hazel snarled, rubbing her jaw. “Her brother will be here soon.”
Monica fought. Kicking, screaming, flinging her head back, trying every technique she learned in martial arts class but Greg was a six-foot mass of pure muscle. He lifted her off the ground like she weighed no more than a sack of feathers, and carried her inside.
“SO IS AUNTIE KIMONA and Uncle Glenmore coming?”
“Uncle Glenmore?”
“What else do I call him?” Ella laughed, reclining in her seat. “I call your mom, auntie, so it’s only right to call him uncle.”
Michael shook his head as he merged into the next lane. “He’s gotten to you too. Every time I turn around I find out he has managed to charm someone else in my life.”
“Your dad is pretty cool, Michael.”
“He’s alright,” Michael replied, but he was smiling. “And yes, he is going to be there. He is ‘escorting’ my mother.”
“What about Samira?”
“Spencer is coming too,” Michael said, dodging the question.
“Cool, but is Samira coming?”
Michael turned his head and caught her knowing look. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I invited her, but she never really gave me an answer. Monica probably convinced her to come.”
“I hope she comes,” Ella mused. “She’s nice, funny. You know, she’s been talking to me about what it’s like to work for the CRPD.”
“You thinking about joining the force?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, ducking her head. “I always thought I would get a job with animals. Don’t get me wrong, I love veterinary science, but working with you guys and seeing you chasing down suspects and getting innocent people justice makes me wish I wasn’t just sitting behind the desk answering phones.”
Michael reached out and squeezed her hand. “You would make an amazing detective, Eleanor Glass. The CRPD would be lucky to have you, but know you always have a place at Grimm Investigations, as a PI.”
“Thanks, Michael,” she said softly. She cleared her throat. “So, what’s this stop we have to make?”
“I have to swing by and pick up Hazel.” Michael fished his phone out of his pocket and checked the screen. “I’ve called a few times, but she must be busy getting ready. So, tell me more about these future plans of yours?”
“Okay, so...”
Michael slipped his phone back into his pocket. Thoughts shifting away from Hazel, he would see her soon anyway.
MONICA WRIGGLED HER hands, struggling against the tape that bound her wrists.
Greg stood immovable at the foot of the bed, watching her impassively. Even if she got her hands and legs free, she was going nowhere.
Monica screamed, trashing her head and sending the stuffed animals flying to the floor.
“She’s making a mess,” Hazel said when she stepped into her room. “We can’t have that.”
Greg finally opened his mouth. “What do we do with her?” Gone was the smooth, pleasant baritone. This Greg was cruel. Merciless.
“The same thing we did with the nosy reporter and the sad little witch who lived in the woods. We get rid of her.”
Hazel looked at Monica, not flinching in the face of the furious glare she was sending her. “She was shouting about the police being on their way, but it’s been an hour and no one has come.” Hazel’s pink lips curled into a smirk. “Obviously, she was bluffing.”
He grunted. “The brother’s gotta know.”
“He wouldn’t have let her come here alone if he did, but I’ll stay on him just to be sure. Take care of him too, if he becomes a problem.”
Monica struggled harder straining against her bonds.
Hazel close
d the distance between her twin and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Then this will all be over, Greggy. We can finally live our lives, because we’re the real victims here.”
She turned on Monica, the sneer returning. “Everyone boohooing about Irina West and Nicholas Milton and Andrea Taylor. Going on about them being sweet innocents who were taken too young but the truth was they were rotten little brats, and we would know. We had to go to school with them.
“I had to endure Irina’s taunts about me being a poor woodworker’s daughter. Picking on my secondhand clothes, pulling my hair, telling all the other girls I had fleas and not to play with me.
“She needed to be taught a lesson, so when we were walking home one day, Greg tricked her and told her he found a nest of baby bunnies. She went running into the woods with him just like that.”
Hazel shrugged. “We didn’t mean to kill her. I mean, come on, we were eight. I hit her with the rock to teach her a lesson, but she wouldn’t wake up. It was getting late and we had to go home so we left, following the trail we made to guide us back.
“In the weeks that followed, everyone was freaking out, desperately trying to find her, but things had finally gotten better for us. No one teasing me or pushing me around. I realized that this was the perfect way to get rid of everyone who was mean to us. If no one else would stop them, we would.
“So when Nicholas Milton pushed Greg off the swings and sprained his thumb, he had to go. Then, can’t forget, that stupid little brat Andrea.”
There wasn’t a single shred of remorse. On the country, the hatred in Hazel’s eyes made Monica shift slightly away from her.
“Andrea got that precious doll and showed it off to everyone, but when I asked if I could hold it, she slapped my hand away. Said it was special and I would just ruin it.”
Hazel chuckled. “Well, it’s mine now.”
Monica shouted at her through the duct tape, telling her exactly what she thought of the twisted person before her.
Hazel cupped her ear. “What’s that? Gotta speak up.”
She laughed, Greg joining in, until their laughter was cut off by the ringing doorbell.
“Ah, that would be my date.”
Michael, no! No! No! No!
But her muffled exclamations wouldn’t be enough. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Hazel straightened, fussing with her hair. “Okay, after we’re gone, wait awhile and then take her to the woods. Use this.”
Hazel bent and disappeared under the bed. When she reemerged, she was holding a shotgun.
Eyes bulging, Monica scrambled back, hitting the headboard.
“Like it?” Hazel jeered. “We got it from Harper. You should have seen her. Showing up that night all high and mighty, going on about the truth and taking responsibility for what we had done. We told her where she could put her responsibility and she left and came back seconds later with the gun. Said we weren’t going to get away with it for a moment longer, and if we wouldn’t confess on our own, she would make us.
“But she was all talk. We told her to do it. Kill us because we would never confess. She hesitated and then it was too late for her.” Hazel handed the gun to her brother, who took it with a smirk. “We decided to hang on to it. Never know when one could come in handy.”
The doorbell rang again.
Rolling her eyes, Hazel said, “I have to get going. I moved her car around back so dump it after you take her to the woods.”
“What about the old man?”
“Dad will come with me,” Hazel replied. “You just get rid of her and we’ll come back here after the ball.”
“Maybe Dad will keep Michael busy for you.”
She laughed. “Daddy is so wonderful in that way. Poor guy won’t know what hit him.” She tsked. “Such a shame. He was kind of cute.”
She waved and slipped out the door. Off to meet the brother Monica had been trying to protect by waiting until she had proof before she accused the woman he liked of murder. A mistake that might cost her brother, her best friend, his life.
Greg approached her, the gun in one hand, and the other reaching for Monica.
Spencer! Where are you?!
“HEY,” MICHAEL SAID happily. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you, Grimm.” Hazel tossed him a wink and slipped her hand into his. “I’m excited for tonight.”
“Me too. We can’t wait to hear Monica play and, of course, Ella’s speech.”
Her grip became uncomfortably tight. Michael glanced at her and followed her gaze to the car. Ella waved at them.
“What’s she doing here?” Hazel questioned.
Michael frowned. “She needed a ride to the ball. Why, what’s wrong?”
“It’s just I thought this was a date. Just the two of us.”
He patted her hand. “Sorry. It was supposed to be the two of us, but Monica couldn’t take her, so I said I would.”
“Why couldn’t Monica make it?” she asked as Michael held the door open for her.
He jogged around to the other side. “She had to go to the office and put together the video. She’s doing the tribute in Harper’s place.”
“That’s wonderful,” Hazel gushed. “I’m sure Harper would have appreciated it.”
“It should be great,” Michael said. He started the car and pulled out of the drive. “What might not be so great is meeting the parents. I’m afraid my mom and dad are coming and things are going to get really embarrassing, really fast.”
Hazel laughed. “Probably, but only for you. I think I’ll enjoy the mortifying childhood stories.”
Michael groaned. “You’ve got a mean streak too, Hazel Antarr.”
She giggled. “You have no idea.”
They dissolved into small talk as Michael made the long drive to Fairy Tails. There was a lengthy line of idling cars waiting to be let into the community. All of Castle Rock was excited for this ball.
Michael pulled up to the guard station, waved, and was let right through. He was becoming a regular.
He turned on to the street for Meadows Mansion and whistled as he took in the incredible home before him. The mansion itself was impressive but adding in the spotlights, banners, and fireworks display had it looking even larger than life.
They pulled up the driveway and stopped in front of the house. Michael handed the keys for his clunker to the valet and held out both arms.
“Ladies?”
Ella slipped her hand through one arm while Hazel took the other; together they climbed the steps and went inside.
Staff appeared immediately to take their coats and escort them to the ballroom.
“Not bad,” Michael said mildly when they stepped inside. There was no theme as many different charities and organizations were being represented, but Mrs. Meadows did an excellent job of transforming the already grand ballroom into something magical. White roses decorated the tables, string lights lit up the space, well-dressed people flitted about the place making polite conversation, and on the other end, a stage that took up the front of the room.
Ella slipped her hand out of his. “I’m going to find Mrs. Meadows. You two have fun.”
They waved her off and turned to each other. “Want to find our seats?”
“Sure,” Hazel replied, smiling up at him.
He smiled back. Blonde and purple hair pulled up into a bun, eyes sparkling with mirth and purple glitter eye shadow, and the skirt of her black lace ball gown whispering as it brushed against him.
She really is...
Michael suddenly lifted his head, his gaze being pulled above Hazel and toward the entrance. His breath caught.
Samira Reddy made eye contact with him and grinned. She brushed her long, curly hair over her bare shoulder, giving him the full effect of her mermaid-style, red gown.
...beautiful.
Samira came directly over to them. “Hello, Mikey,” Samira said. “Hi, Hazel. You look lovely.”
Hazel turned to face her, hand clutching Michael’s arm ti
ghter. “Thank you. You look nice too. I didn’t know you were coming.”
Samira shrugged elegantly. “Michael invited me.”
“Did he.”
He winced; she was squeezing hard enough to hurt now.
Samira nodded. “I’m a friend of the family and I couldn’t miss Monica’s performance.” Samira looked over her shoulder, waving someone down. “Have you met my partner, Spencer Gutiérrez?”
Through the ballroom doors, Michael saw Spencer look up from his phone. He strode over to meet them.
“Hello,” Hazel said, holding out her hand. Spencer took it, giving her a quick shake. “Nice to meet you. Are you Samira’s boyfriend?”
He shook his head, bursting out laughing. “No way.”
Samira smoothly popped him over the head. “It’s not that funny, Gutiérrez,” she said as he rubbed the spot. “But no, I meant partners on the force.”
“Oh.”
“Where’s Monica?” Spencer said, eyes scanning the crowd.
“She’ll be back getting ready,” Michael replied. “She came early to set up.”
“Right, of course.” But the slight slump to his shoulders told Michael how he felt about not seeing her.
Spencer sighed, lifting up his phone. “Mira, do you have your charger? My phone is dead. I came straight here from work and left mine at home.”
“I have a battery pack. You can use that.” Samira opened her clutch and handed it to him. He took it and left without another word.
“So...” Michael began when the silence stretched uncomfortably. “Let’s go grab our seats.”
Michael led Hazel away, following the staff’s direction to table twenty-two while Samira veered off to her own.
His mother rose from her seat the moment she saw Michael.
“Hey, Mom. This is—”
“Michael, have you seen your sister?” she said, rushing up to him.
He shook his head. “Isn’t she getting ready to go on?”
Hands wringing, Kimona replied, “The staff told me the performers were in the drawing room, but when I went in there to congratulate Monica, her bandmates told me she never arrived nor is she responding to their calls. Have you spoken to her?”