Truly, Madly, Deadly (18 page)

A sob lodged in Sawyer’s throat. “Aren’t you coming home now?”

“I can’t, Sawyer, not right now. I’m sorry. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“You know that I didn’t do this, right, Dad?”

But the only answer that came was a dial tone.

Sawyer ran up to her stepmother’s room and held her breath, knocking gently. “Tara?” she whispered.

There was no answer, so Sawyer pushed the door open cautiously, poking her head in. “Tara?” she asked again.

The bedroom was pristine, and Sawyer cocked her head when she heard the rush of the shower. The door to the bathroom was shut and locked, and Sawyer knocked hard. “Tara? I’m home. Dad wants you to call him when you’re done, okay?”

The house was darkening. The gray of the sky was being edged out by an inky, all-encompassing blackness that seemed to weigh on Sawyer’s chest. She crossed the hall to her own room and flopped down onto her bed, feeling the weight of the day—the days, actually—pulling on her limbs. Everything ached. She pressed her palms against her eyes then blinked up at the ceiling, letting the tears roll over her cheeks, drip onto the bedspread. She squinted then, seeing the tinge of red.

When she rolled over onto her stomach, every aching muscle in her body pricked with a primal fear. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, and she launched herself from the bed, backing up so rapidly that she thunked against her desk, sending a shower of jewelry and pens clattering to the ground.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the wall above her bed, from the gashes of red paint she had grown to despise—from the words
I
see
everything
scrawled above her headboard.

Bile rose in Sawyer’s throat.

She dashed across the hall and kicked at the bathroom door, yanking on the knob and using the heel of her hand. “Tara, Tara, get out here! We have to get out of here right now!”

Sawyer was sobbing openly now, looking back toward her room as if the words would come to life and follow her.

“Tara!” She kicked at the door again and finally pressed her ear against it, praying to hear the sound of the water softening, the tap turning off, Tara coming to her rescue. But the shower remained a thunderous rain. Sawyer stepped back to kick open the door and stopped, astonished, when her feet sunk into the carpet.

It was soaked.

“Oh my God. Tara!”

Sawyer shouldered the door, hard. She heard the splinter of the wood frame and hit it once more, sending the thing vaulting open and her tumbling into the bathroom. She slid on the tile floor, a sheen of water making the entire room slick.

The first thing Sawyer saw was Tara’s bare feet, resting one on top of the other. They were kicked against the glass shower door, a rivulet of shower water pouring out underneath them.

“Oh no.” Sawyer gripped the sink and made her way to the shower, where Tara was slumped. Her naked body was crumpled on the tile floor, her blond hair floating on a quarter inch of water. Her cheeks were pink and flushed, her shoulder and pregnant belly a deep red where the water was pelting her.

Sawyer’s tears were steady now and she felt herself gasp—and smile—when she saw the light rise and fall of Tara’s chest.

“Oh, thank God!”

She really did feel relief, her tears turning to joy, when she turned off the tap and snatched a towel from the rack. She laid it gently over Tara’s body, covering her. She tapped her cheeks lightly, then harder. “Tara? Tara!”

Tara’s head lolled listlessly, her mouth hanging slack. “Oh please, Tara, wake up!”

Sawyer sloshed through the water and snatched the phone from the nightstand next to her father’s bed. She dialed 911 and took huge, gasping breaths of air, then stopped when she realized the line was completely dead.

“No, no, no!”

She was going for her cell phone when she detected motion out of the corner of her eye. A car was coming down the street toward the house, coasting along the slick blacktop. As it got closer, Sawyer’s heart began to pound.

It was a police car.

She began to back away from the window when she realized that Stephen Haas was driving it. It was only then that Sawyer noticed the car pulled up tight against the house.

“Oh God, Chloe.”

She ran downstairs and snatched the door open, throwing her arms around Chloe as she stood on the porch. “Get inside.”

“Sawyer, the police—”

Sawyer slammed the door hard. “Where’s your cell phone? We have to call 911.”

“But the police are right—”

“No!” Again tears stung Sawyer’s eyes. “I don’t trust him! He’s coming for me. Call 911 and get an ambulance.”

Chloe gripped Sawyer’s shoulders. “What is going on?”

Sawyer wagged her head, her breath caught in a plastic bubble that refused to burst. Her skin felt tight; her forehead seemed to shrink against her brain. She doubled over, rubbing her eyes with her fists.

“I think it’s Stephen. He’s Logan’s brother. I think he’s after me—I think he killed Kevin and Maggie or he’s covering up for Logan.”

“But why?”

Snot and tears rolled down Sawyer’s chin. “I don’t know.”

Chloe’s eyes were wide when Sawyer straightened up again. Her mouth dropped into a little
o
of surprise; there was warm concern in her eyes. Her grip on Sawyer’s shoulders tightened, and Chloe stepped around her, nudging Sawyer back into the house, shutting the door solidly behind her. Sawyer heard the lock tumble into place.

“Sawyer, you’re about to hyperventilate.”

“You don’t understand, Chloe. We have to get out of here! Logan—Stephen—he knows where I live! He’ll be back, and we have to save Tara—”

Sawyer was crying hard, big hiccupping sobs that wracked her shoulders and made the ache in her chest that much greater.

Chloe pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed, pressing it to her ear. Sawyer listened to Chloe give her address, speaking slowly, asking Sawyer if Tara was still breathing.

Sawyer nodded frantically, and Chloe hung up the phone. “They’re on their way.”

Sawyer physically crumpled, and Chloe snaked her arms around her. “Shh,” she said, “it’s going to be fine. Everything is going to be okay.” Chloe brushed a soft, comforting kiss on Sawyer’s forehead.

There was a heavy knock at the door, and Sawyer stiffened. Her heart lurched. She felt her eyes widen, the fear coursing through her veins and making her limbs leaden. “That’s him.”

Chloe lowered her arms and stepped around Sawyer, the picture of calm. She rolled up on her tiptoes and pressed her eye to the peephole. “It’s a cop.”

Sawyer straightened. “He can’t know I’m here.”

The knock sounded again, hard, insistent. “Sawyer? Ms. Dodd? It’s Officer Haas.”

Chloe blinked back at her. “Officer Haas?” she hissed.

Sawyer swallowed heavily, her saliva sour. “He—he—that’s Logan’s brother.”

Stephen shook the doorknob, and Sawyer’s eyes were riveted to the door.

“We need to answer that,” Chloe said. “He knows I’m here. My car is right outside.”

Sawyer swallowed heavily, images of the past few weeks flashing in front of her eyes. “No. He wants to arrest me. Or”—she sucked in a shaky breath—“worse.”

Chloe sighed. “He’s not going to go away.”

Sawyer stumbled backward, head wagging. “I can’t answer it. I can’t.”

Chloe bit her bottom lip. “Just”—she snatched open the closet door and shoved Sawyer in it—“be quiet.”

Sawyer held her breath, listening to Chloe pull open her front door. “Can I help you?” Chloe’s voice sounded even, calm.

“I’m looking for Sawyer Dodd. Is she here?”

Sawyer’s heart hammered against her rib cage. She was certain the closet’s acoustics were only highlighting and broadcasting the sound.

“No,” Chloe answered. “Actually, I came over here looking for her—she left school early. But no one was here.”

Sawyer’s teeth bored into her bottom lip. Her hands were fisted, palms sweaty.

“How did you get in the house?” she heard Stephen ask.

“Sawyer’s my best friend. I have her key.”

Sawyer thought she heard the tinkle of a key ring being displayed. She gritted her teeth against a maniacal grin that started to play on her lips. Chloe was putting on a great act—Sawyer had never given her the key to the house.

“Look…” Stephen’s voice drew out.

“Chloe.”

“Chloe, look, it’s really important that I find Sawyer. She could be in some real danger.”

Sawyer’s heart continued its wild thump, and she pressed her palms to her chest, hoping to muffle the sound.

“Absolutely,” Chloe said. “The second I find Sawyer, I’ll be sure to let her know you’re looking for her.”

There was an awkward pause and Sawyer waited, muscles stiff, eyes wide and slowly adjusting to the dim coat closet.

“Okay. Please, have her contact me right away.”

“Will do.”

Sawyer listened to the front door slam and waited until she heard Stephen’s engine roar to life before she opened the closet door a half inch. “Is he gone?” she mouthed.

Chloe nodded, opening the door wide.

Sawyer stepped out tentatively, then slunk to the front window. She held her breath until she spotted Stephen’s taillights sailing through the scrolling iron gates.

“Thank God.”

Chloe licked her lips, smiling. “See?”

“See what?”

She turned on her heel, blond ponytail swaying. “Didn’t I tell you’d I’d always take care of you?”

Someone sucked all the air out of the room, and Sawyer’s stocking feet were rooted to the carpet. “What did you say?”

Chloe stopped abruptly but didn’t turn around. “What?”

“Just then.” Sawyer reached out, tentatively touching Chloe on the shoulder. To her surprise, Chloe shrugged away. She turned to face Sawyer, her pink lips pressed in a hard, thin line. “I said I’d always take care of you. I’d do anything for you, Sawyer.”

White-hot heat seared Sawyer’s spine. “Chloe?”

“Come on, sweetie.” Chloe offered Sawyer a hand and Sawyer stared at it, dumbfounded.

“I said, come on!”

Chloe wrapped her hand around Sawyer’s wrist and gave it a hard tug. She stopped immediately, her face contorted into apologetic sympathy. “I’m sorry.” She smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t want you to think I’m anything like him.”

Sawyer stopped and snapped her wrist from Chloe’s hand. “What the hell is going on here, Chloe?”

Both girls stopped cold when a muffled groan and a loud thump came from above them. “Tara.” Sawyer went to the window and peered out. “Where is the ambulance? You have to wait for the ambulance. I’m going to go check on Tara.”

But Chloe didn’t move.

“Chloe!”

“Tara is going to be fine. It’s all going to be fine.”

Sawyer turned to run, but Chloe grabbed her, hard, jabbing something cold against Sawyer’s rib cage. It was the glint of the blade that caught Sawyer’s attention first.

“Chloe, what is that?”

The knife was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. The blade was arched and looked menacing, the edge sharpened razor-thin. Chloe’s eyes followed Sawyer’s to the knife. Chloe rolled the tip against Sawyer’s body. The move was gentle but sent shock waves of fear radiating through Sawyer.

“It’s all going to be fine.”

Sawyer went stone still. “Put the knife down, Chloe. My God, where did you get that thing, anyway?”

Chloe shrugged but didn’t relinquish her grip on the knife, the tip still a hair’s breadth from Sawyer’s flesh. “You’d be surprised at the things my parents have lying around the house.”

“Chloe, this isn’t funny. The police are going to be here any minute.”

Chloe cocked her head, a hazy serenity in her eyes. Her lips curved up at the corners just the slightest bit. “No one’s coming, Sawyer.”

She held up her phone, then dropped it. Sawyer watched in horror as the phone fell, the screen shattering at her feet, plastic pieces skittering across the marble floor.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you get it, silly?” Chloe blinked and reached out for Sawyer’s hand again, this time finding it and lacing her fingers through Sawyer’s gently. Chloe took a slight, tentative step forward, and Sawyer could smell the faint trace of Chloe’s perfume as her lips touched Sawyer’s ear.

“I’ve always admired you.”

Blood began to pulse through Sawyer. Her eyes stung. “You?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper, almost unrecognizable in the dimming air of twilight. “You did this?”

Sawyer could feel Chloe’s moist breath against her ear, her neck. Sawyer watched in dead silence as Chloe took the knife from where it rested on her ribcage and pressed it against Sawyer’s neck. “I’d do anything for you.”

A violent tremble started at Sawyer’s head and worked its way down. “What?”

Chloe didn’t answer. Though she kept the knife firm, her lips were soft and her eyes dreamy. She used her other hand to gently brush a strand of hair from Sawyer’s cheek. “Anything at all.”

Sawyer shook her head, images tearing through her mind: Kevin in his coffin, Mr. Hanson’s hands against her skin, Maggie… “No. No, you couldn’t have.”

Chloe tapped the thin steel blade against her lips, a slight smile on her face. “I couldn’t have fed Kevin beers until he was falling down drunk, then handed him his car keys? Or I couldn’t have mixed a big glop of peanut oil into Señor Hanson’s guacamole?”

“No.” Sawyer paused, then gaped when the fabric of the bracelet brushed against her cheek. The embroidered words
Best
Friends
Forever
just at her peripheral. “Where did you get that?”

Chloe smiled. “We both have them again. You found Maggie’s, didn’t you? I know you were over there.”

Sawyer felt sick and she closed her eyes tight. “You’ve been watching me.”

“Always.”

Sawyer’s tongue brushed across her lips. “You killed Kevin.”

Chloe rolled the strand of hair between her forefinger and thumb, her eyes fixed on it, admiring it.

“Why Kevin? Why now? How long—how long have you felt this way?”

The question seemed to make Chloe seethe, the cold steel of the knife vibrating against Sawyer’s carotid artery. “Forever.” She clipped the word.

“Forever?”

“God, Sawyer!” Chloe threw up her hands. “I couldn’t take it anymore! I loved you, I love you so much and I couldn’t watch it anymore. He was—he was ruining you, and you were
letting
him.”

Tears blurred Sawyer’s vision. “No,” she whispered.

Chloe’s eyes glowed like the last ashen embers of a dying fire. She almost looked sad. “Don’t you see?” She smacked the knife hard with her other hand, and the thwack made Sawyer jump. “He didn’t care about you! He didn’t love you. I wasn’t the only one, either, Sawyer.” She dropped her eyes for a brief second, looked at Sawyer through lowered lashes. “But you were the only one he hurt.”

Sawyer’s stomach dropped and an inappropriate rush of shame washed over her. “You knew about that?” Her voice was a choked whisper against Chloe’s ragged sigh.

Chloe shrugged. “You let him.”

“I didn’t let him hit me.” It was Sawyer’s turn to be angry now. “I didn’t just let it happen.”

“Well, you sure as hell didn’t stop it, now did you?”

“It wasn’t like that. I couldn’t—”

“Couldn’t let him go?” Chloe mocked. “Couldn’t ask for help? Couldn’t see past your own stupid nose is more like it. You’re a victim, Sawyer. Look at everything bad that happens to poor, poor Sawyer. You didn’t need him. So when I saw an opportunity, I took it.”

“What are you—”

“That night. You finally—finally—broke up with him. But I knew it wouldn’t stick. You’d go crawling back to him. He’d tell you how much he loved you, and you would turn into a big, sobbing bowl of jelly. So I stepped in. You know what happens when guys drink, Sawyer? They get horny. And a guy like Kevin Anderson doesn’t really care where he gets it from.”