Kill You Twice (29 page)

Archie felt a chill settle on his shoulders.

Reverend Lewis was standing next to the head of the coffin, his hand resting lightly on it, as if he were communicating with the dead.

“Gretchen Stevens,” Archie said.

The reverend looked up at Archie.

“She was a foster kid that the Beatons took in right before James Beaton was murdered. Ring a bell?”

Huffington stepped beside the reverend and laid a gentle hand on his arm. “If you’ve got something to say, Reverend, you better say it.”

“It was a long time ago,” the reverend said. “She wasn’t with them long.”

“You met her?” Archie asked.

“They would have brought her to church,” the reverend said.

“Did they?” Huffington asked.

Reverend Lewis looked at Huffington. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t this occur to you when I asked yesterday if you remembered any teenage girls being around?” Archie asked.

“I barely knew her,” the reverend said.

There was more the reverend wasn’t telling them. And they all knew it. But anything that had come up during spiritual counseling was protected. Whatever secrets the reverend had, they were
his to dole out. “What happened to that family?” Archie asked.

Reverend Lewis glanced back at the coffin, then at Huffington, before finally fixing his blue eyes on Archie. “They were tested by God.”

Archie inspected the note in his hand.

Beaton had left it in the grave at some point during the night. He cried when he killed her. He wanted to be at her funeral. Instead, he’d settled for a scrawled biblical quote on a piece
of scrap paper.

“He knew we’d be here,” Archie said.

“He couldn’t risk getting caught, even for Mama,” Huffington said.

If they were all here, where was he?

Archie brushed the dirt off the face of his watch. It was after noon. “Susan should have checked in fifteen minutes ago,” Archie said.

“She’s not exactly a slave to time,” Henry said.

Archie punched in Susan’s cell phone number. It went straight to voice mail. Then he dialed her mother’s landline. It was disconnected.

CHAPTER

T
he door shook
in its frame as Beaton threw his body against it again and again. The Victorians made good doors, and
this one had lasted a long time, but it was starting to splinter.

“It won’t be long,” Susan said.

They gripped their little homemade shivs and waited. Bliss did not have any drain cleaner. The most toxic thing they’d found in the bathroom was tea tree oil. They’d poured it in a
squirt bottle and Susan was going to go for his eyes, on the off chance it might sting.

“Susan,” Pearl said.

He heaved himself at the door again and the wood made a cracking sound.

“What?” Susan said.

Pearl glanced down at the bloodstained Pixies T-shirt. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“Find me another one,” Susan said.

One more good slam, and he’d be upon them.

Susan looked at Pearl.

Pearl nodded.

Susan reached for the lock on the door, and, as quietly as she could, she turned it.

They squeezed against the wall, just inside the door, and waited.

“‘For whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap,’” Beaton hollered through the door. Then he slammed into the door, only this time the door was unlocked, and it
flew open, sending Beaton stumbling forward, the machete at his side.

Susan was ready with the squirt bottle and she squeezed it and a stream of golden tea tree oil went right into his eyes.

He howled and squeezed his eyes shut and flailed the machete in the air. They couldn’t get past him out of the bathroom; the blade’s reach was too far. They had one shot. Susan
waited for the machete to swing away and then struck him in the thigh with her shiv. He hollered and dropped the machete and his hand went to his leg, where the shard of glass was wedged in his
flesh.

At the same time she felt a tiny stab in the muscle of her own thigh.

Beaton’s eyes fell on her. His eyelids were raw and the whites of his eyes were dark red and wet with tears. She was backed into a corner.

She heard Pearl say, “What did you do to her?” She had picked up the machete and was holding it like a baseball bat. “Let her go.”

Susan looked down at her leg, where a hypodermic was jammed into her thigh like a meat thermometer. She slid it out and looked at it. The hypodermic was empty. The plunger all the way in.
Whatever it was, it was now in her system. She was feeling woozy. She stumbled, and caught herself on the edge of the tub. A candle tumbled onto the floor. Susan’s vision was getting blotchy.
Was she dying? She looked for Pearl. She had to help Pearl.

Pearl’s eyes were frantic. The machete gleamed and trembled in her hands.

“Cut off his fucking head,” Susan slurred.

Beaton lifted his palms. Susan dropped to the floor. The light blue paint was the color of the sky.

Beaton said, “Pearl, have you accepted the Lord?”

It was the last thing Susan heard before the world went black.

CHAPTER

S
he’s still out
cold,” Claire said. She was sitting at Susan’s bedside. The ambulance had taken her to
Providence, which was located on the central east side. It was a relief to Archie. They had all spent too much time at Emanuel Hospital over the past few years.

Claire looked Archie and Henry up and down. “What happened to you two?”

Archie and Henry had driven straight there from St. Helens, nearly breaking the sound barrier going through Scappoose. They were both still covered with dirt. The cuffs of Archie’s pants
were caked with mud. Henry had streaks of soil on his arms and neck, and a dirty handprint on the front of his shirt. They had both left dirty footprints behind them down the hospital hall.
Archie’s socks felt slimy. One of his shirt buttons was missing. He had lost his jacket.

“We had to do some digging,” Archie said.

Susan was in a private room in the ER. She was wearing a hospital gown, a white cotton blanket tucked in up to her chest. Archie went to the side of the bed, rubbed a dirty palm on his pants,
and took Susan’s hand. Dirt fell off his knuckles onto the blanket and he brushed it away, onto the floor. This was his fault. He never should have agreed to let Pearl stay there.

“Do you want to sit?” Claire asked, offering her seat. Archie nodded and sat down, still holding Susan’s hand in his. Claire walked over to Henry and licked her thumb and wiped
some mud off the side of his nose.

“Thanks,” Henry said.

Archie’s skin itched from the dirt and the sweat. The mud on his pants had dried to a stiff shell. He could smell the graveyard soil, and the stink of his own body where he’d sweated
through his shirt.

Susan was in REM, her eyes darting back and forth underneath her eyelids. The side of her mouth twitched.

Beaton had drugged her with a heavy sedative. The hypo had been on the floor when Claire found her unconscious in the bathroom.

“They put up a real fight,” Claire said. “There’s blood and broken glass all over the bathroom. His blood,” she clarified. “Not Pearl’s type.”

Susan stirred and said something in her sleep.

Archie knew what he had to do.

“I need to talk to her doctor,” he said.

“I’ll find him,” Claire said. She hurried out of the room. Henry leaned against the wall, not saying anything. Susan looked younger when she was asleep, all the attitude faded
from her face. Every freckle was visible against her pale skin. Even her neck and shoulders had freckles, something Archie wasn’t sure he’d ever noticed before. Archie prided himself on
noticing details, but when it came to Susan, for some reason, he missed things. There was something about her that distracted that part of his brain.

Claire returned with the doctor. He was young, probably a resident. His eyes widened when he saw Henry and Archie. Archie didn’t bother explaining the mud. He pulled out his badge and
opened it, and the doctor nodded a few too many times. He was nervous. Sometimes people who were used to being in positions of authority didn’t like it when someone else with authority showed
up. That was good. Archie could use that. With the right approach, the doctor could be pushed around.

“We need you to give her something to wake her up,” Archie said. He could feel Henry’s and Claire’s eyes on him. They weren’t going to like this.

The doctor had a name tag that read
DR. CLOOP
on his white medical coat. The name tag was engraved silver—probably a gift for graduating from medical school. Cloop took a pen out of his
chest pocket. He didn’t do anything with it. He just held it in his hand. “What’s your interest here?” he asked.

Susan’s hand was warm and limp. Archie closed his fingers around it. “I’m her friend,” he said. He cleared his throat. “I’m also the lead detective on this
case. She witnessed a kidnapping. A girl is still out there, in great danger.”

“She’ll wake up naturally in a few hours,” Cloop said.

“We don’t have that much time,” Archie said. “She was drugged with a sedative.” He waited a beat. “So give her an amphetamine.”

Henry straightened up off the wall, leaving a streak of dirt where his shoulder had been. “You sure that’s a good idea?” he said.

Cloop worried the pen in his hand and shook his head. “It’s not that simple. I can give her Flumazenil. But it’s controversial. If she’s got any health issues, it can
cause seizures, cardiac issues, even death. The risks outweigh any potential benefits.”

Susan slept peacefully in the bed. Archie had risked his life to save hers on more than one occasion. Now he was considering risking her life to save Pearl’s. He didn’t know if Susan
would understand. He was sure that her mother wouldn’t. “Susan doesn’t have health issues,” Archie said. He moved his eyes to Cloop. “Give her the shot.”

“I need to talk to an attending,” Cloop said.

“Look, Doctor,” Archie said. He knew that Cloop would like the honorific. “A serial killer has a seventeen-year-old girl and he is going to kill her. He is probably hurting her
right now. And Susan may have information that can help us find them.”

Cloop was caving. Archie could see his eyes moving, already computing the dosage. “Depending on how she reacts to the benzodiazepine, she might not remember much,” Cloop said.

“She’ll remember,” Archie said. He squeezed Susan’s hand. He believed in her.

Cloop took a breath and slowly exhaled. He put the pen back in his chest pocket. That was when Archie knew he had him. “I’ll be right back,” Cloop said.

“Bliss is on her way,” Claire said as soon as Cloop was gone. “What is wrong with you? We should wait for her.”

“If we wait for her, she won’t let us do it,” Archie said simply. “She’ll want to protect Susan.”

Henry rubbed his forehead. “What do
you
want?” he asked Archie.

“I want to help Susan save Pearl’s life,” Archie said. He took a moment. And then he turned his attention from Susan to Henry and Claire. “She can do this,” he
said.

Claire hesitated. She was studying him. She sometimes looked at Archie like he was a very hard math problem. Then she threaded one arm under Henry’s elbow and nodded.

Cloop returned with a vial of clear fluid and a hypodermic. He pierced the foil top of the vial and drew fluid into the hypodermic. Then he tapped it. “If this is going to work, it’s
going to work fast,” he said. And he injected the medicine into Susan’s IV.

Archie held her hand between both of his, his eyes fixed on her closed lids. The sounds of the ER—the flap of nurses’ clogs on linoleum, the hushed chatter, the soft cries, and the
steady electronic heartbeat of the machines—all faded away. There was only Susan.

They waited.

Archie tightened his grip on her hand.
Come on
, he thought.
You can do this
.

Her eyelids fluttered.

Archie held his breath.

Then Susan opened her eyes. Her freckles faded as color rushed back into her face. She looked at Archie and said, “Where’s Pearl?”

Archie was flooded with such relief that he almost felt sick. He had to look down and clear his throat before he could answer. “She’s gone,” he said.

Claire was tucked under Henry’s arm, a rare display of public affection. Archie saw her pull away as Susan came to and the tension dissipated, but he also saw that Henry still had a hand
on the small of her back.

Susan’s eyes were wide, her gaze darting around the room. “He had a machete,” she said. “He killed our goat.”

“I know,” Archie said.

Susan turned to Archie, blinking back tears. “I loved that goat. I know I said terrible things about her. But I swear to God, I really did love her. I didn’t want her to
die.”

“I know,” Archie said.

“He took her?” Susan said. She was gripping Archie’s hand so hard it hurt, like she might fall if she let go.

Archie nodded. “You need to tell me everything that happened.”

He saw Susan’s brain working, her eyes searching for details. “Pearl went outside to play with Baby,” she said. “That what she calls the goat. I have no idea why.
It’s not her name.” Susan’s nostrils flared and tears slid down her cheeks. Then she drew in a long, halting breath. “She came back all upset. Said something had happened to
the goat, so I went out to see. I think he must have slipped in the back door then.” She swallowed hard. “It didn’t look like coyotes or raccoons.” Susan’s face
blanched at the memory. “I was going to call you,” she said to Archie, “but I’d left my phone inside. So we went back into the house, just to get the phone. I could see it
on the kitchen table. But when I got to it, it was wet. He’d dunked it in water or something, so it didn’t work. And the landline was cut.” Archie’s stomach twisted, but he
forced his expression to remain neutral. She was already upset. She didn’t need to see his fear. “And then he was just there,” Susan said. “He had the machete. And he was
covered in goat blood. And we couldn’t get past him, so we ran upstairs and locked ourselves in the bathroom.” Susan wiped her nose with her free wrist and muttered, “We really
need to get some real drain cleaner.”