Tristan releases my hand only to wrap an arm around my shoulders and caress my cheek. “Katie, I don’t think you know how much people like you. You don’t even have to talk to them on a daily basis; they just genuinely like you. They tolerate me because they’re afraid I’ll go postal,” he jokes, but I bet he’s actually being completely serious.
I roll my eyes, but a bit of well-deserved pride wells up inside of me. People like me; for who I am. People I’ve never shared my past with, who aren’t looking at me like I’m a kicked puppy in need of rescuing. It’s nice to know you’re liked for you.
“You know, it must be a sin to be so… content. Something’s bound to happen that knocks everything to the ground,” says Tristan, rubbing my shoulder with his tan hand.
My mouth falls into a frown, not taking any comfort at all in his words. I shrug them off as we enter the halls of the school just as the first bell rings.
Later than night, Tristan is in the kitchen with me. Sorren never showed up at school today and her car was missing from her driveway, so we have no idea where she could possibly be. What a coward; to completely skip school because of a fight between your friends? Worst things could happen, she has no idea.
“Do you think you could do me a favor, Tristan?” I ask, rubbing my forehead with my hand.
“Of course. What’s up?” he says, closing the refrigerator and walking towards me.
“Could you run to the store and get me some Tylenol? I have a wicked headache,” I say, hating that I have to ask him. I’ve always hated taking things from people, even favors. Actually, especially those.
“Yeah, I’ll go right now. Anything else?” he asks, shrugging on his leather jacket and twirling his keys.
“No. Thanks,” I say, genuinely glad I don’t have to go without some type of pain medicine tonight.
“Anything for you, angel,” he winks, but it’s cute, unlike Scott’s twitch. He kisses me on the forehead and gently strokes my hair for a moment before walking away.
When I hear the front door close, I stand. My vision swirls and black dots dance across my eyes. The phone rings, sending a sharp pain to my head. I lumber across the kitchen and rip it off the hook, nearly slamming it to my ear in frustration.
“Hello?” I say, sounding annoyed.
“Is this Ms. Rachel Sullivan?”
The use of my aunt’s last name disarms me; I very rarely hear my mother’s maiden name spoken aloud. My father forbade it.
“No, she isn’t home. Who’s calling?” I say, trying to appear friendlier.
“Is this Miss. Katherine Prince?” he asks, a sense of urgency slipping into his voice.
“Who’s calling?” I ask again.
“Katherine, this is Detective Hayes from the Los Angeles Police Department. Are you home alone?”
This is weird. Who do I know in Los Angeles? How do I know this man is a real cop? Well… he knows my name and Rachel’s name, and that I’m staying with her. There’s a sign.
“Yes, Sir,” my voice sounds so hesitant that he picks up immediately.
“Katherine I need you to do me a favor. Lock all your windows and doors and turn off all the lights. Do that now, but stay on the phone with me,” he says using a tone that sets me on edge.
“Why?” I say, confused.
“Just do as I say, Katherine. But stay on the phone,” he urges.
My heartbeat picks up but something inside me tells me to listen to the mysterious man on the other side of the phone. “I have to put the phone down; it’s not cordless,” I say, voice shaking.
“Do that. Lock everything in the house and turn off all the lights. Where are you right now?” he asks, still sounding tightly controlled. Robotic.
“The kitchen.”
“Are there any other phones in the house?”
I shake my head, but feel stupid because he obviously can’t see me. “No. I’ll go do as you say.”
So I do. I lock every window and every door and turn off all the lights. My heart is pounding so fast that my hands start sweating and I almost drop the phone when I get back into the kitchen.
“I did it, I did what you said. What’s going on? What’s wrong?” I say, starting to get really afraid. If this is some type of prank call, I’m going to murder the perpetrator.
“Where is your Aunt, Katherine?”
“Stop asking me questions and answer mine! What the hell is going on!?” I shout, the loudness of it filling the frighteningly empty house.
“I’m not sure how aware you are of the murders that have been committed in the Los Angeles area in the past few days?” he says, and I’m happy we’re making some progress here.
“No, I have no idea what murders you’re talking about. They haven’t been in the news. What do they have to do with me?”
“Please keep your voice down, Katherine, merely as a precaution. Your brother has been identified as the killer, Miss. Prince. Your father was found dead in your home last night around seven in the evening. I am so very sorry, Katherine,” he says, his robotic voice tapering off.
My heart stops beating. The world seems to freeze around me: the clock stops ticking, the wind stops blowing, the rain stops beating against the roof. The only sound I hear is my own heartbeat and breaths, escalating towards hyperventilation.
“Katherine? Katherine, I need you to listen to me, sweetheart. I know this is hard but you need to keep calm. We’ve contacted your local police and they’re calling in reinforcements from the other local departments.”
“Reinforcements? What makes you think he’d come here?” I stammer out, momentarily regaining control of my senses. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm, Katie, I chant in my head
“He called this phone number last night from your home. Did you receive any mysterious calls?”
A sob escapes my mouth, but I squelch it with my free hand. Tears begin to roll down my face, but I stay strong. I need more information. I need facts to keep me weighted, because if I let myself think and speculate, I’ll break. I won’t just break, I’ll shatter.
“It’s okay, Katherine. We’ll keep you safe. We had no cause to believe he would go to your residence until we checked phone records today. There was a clerical error; we were unaware of his calling your aunt’s home.”
The silence is deafening. My heartbeat breaks the quiet with its loud bumps, but I feel empty, like my heart is nowhere to be found. I hate this feeling, so I say a quick prayer. I feel the Holy Spirit fill me with reassurance that the Lord is with me. The feeling makes me stronger.
“How many people…?” I can’t finish the sentence.
“At least six. We don’t know all the details yet, but your mother is safe and sound. Your father was found dead this morning and your mother locked in an upstairs closet,” the Detective says, sounding rehearsed but genuine.
Another sob escapes me and I crouch on the floor of the kitchen, clutching the phone as a crack of lightning lights up the room. The rain halts suddenly and everything is still.
He locked her in the same closet our father locked us in when he would beat our mother. We would be in there for hours, listening to the sounds of skin on skin and screaming words about food, cleanliness, ignorance and self-worth. David and I used to clutch each other and huddle on the floor, humming to try to drown out the sounds. It was horrifying. Actually, I used to clutch David. He would just stare at the wall, motionless as a stone, scolding me for humming.
Suddenly, the roaring of Tristan’s truck returns and my stomach drops to the floor. I gasp, stunned and feeling guilty I forgot I sent him to the store for me.
“Oh my gosh!” I exclaim, nearly dropping the phone in my haste to get up. “My boyfriend, he’s outside! I forgot I sent him to the store! He needs to come inside!”
“No! Katherine, don’t leave-” I don’t listen to the rest of his words, but instead drop the phone and race through the kitchen to the living room. I tear open the front door just as Tristan is climbing out of his truck. A feeling of pu
re terror courses through me at the feeling that we are not alone. Despite my earlier conviction and the Detective’s orders, I panic.
“Tristan! Get inside!” I scream, bounding down the steps, wanting to yank him into the house with my own two hands. His handsome face is shocked before turning ash white. He sways and falls back against his truck before connecting his frightened eyes with mine.
“Hey, sis,” a gravelly voice whispers a few inches from my ear as an arm wraps itself around my neck.
Chapter 14
Tristan
Of course I get the slowest store clerk in town. Her nametag says Melissa, but it looks half-scribbled out with Sharpie.
“Evening,” I greet when I finally get in front of her.
Wordlessly, she scans the bottle of Tylenol and drops it into the plastic bag with a blank expression.
“Thanks,” I say, shoving my change in my jacket pocket and high-tailing it out of the 24-hour mini-mart.
The storm has picked up, making the trees bow like fans at a rock concert. The allusion makes me smile a little as I jog to my truck. I try to use as little gas as possible, because Rachel so graciously pays for it without even a second glance. I’m not sure how aware Katie is of her aunt’s financial situation, but the woman is richer than God. Not literally, of course, but no other metaphor explains the amount of her wealth in such detail. The woman could buy half the state if she was of mind to.
That’s what I love about Rachel, her kindness and utter humility. Nobody even knows about the couple million bucks she has saved in the bank from a lottery win a few years back, and I’m certainly not going to spill her secret.
The ride home is uneventful, but the rain suddenly stops as I turn onto Katie’s isolated street. It’s pitch black outside because the moon is hiding behind the thick storm clouds that have been haunting us all day. A horrible feeling washes over me, like I shouldn’t be here. The unease intensifies when Rachel’s house comes into view and it’s barely visible because all the lights are off. When I left not a half an hour ago, the majority of the lights were on. Katie hates the darkness.
My truck rolls up the rocky driveway and the uneasy feeling makes my heart pound, and I swear I feel Katie’s heart beating right alongside mine. Something isn’t right…
I leave the headlights on so I can find my way to the door. The rusty door of my pick-up pops open, breaking the eerie silence with its sound. Katie opens the door of her house, looking unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Her clothes are slightly rumpled and her hair is out of the tight bun it’s been in all day, so her waves are bouncing down past her elbows. But it’s not her body language that scares me; it’s her eyes.
Those beautiful green eyes I see reflected in the dim light of my truck’s headlights are filled with a terror so thick that it makes me physically stumble backwards a step, making me hit my back against the truck’s side. A shadow passes behind her and a face I will never forget protrudes from the darkness and bathes itself in the light from my headlights.
“Tristan! Get inside!” Katie screeches as she jumps down the steps, arms slightly extended like she wants to pick me up. She must know. She must have known he was out here and she still came for me. To warn me? To protect me? How foolish. It’s my job to protect her.
“Hey, sis,” David’s voice sounds dry, like he hasn’t had a drip of water in days. His hair is long, resting on his shoulders, and darker than I remember it being. But I don’t have time to focus on his appearance because his arm wraps itself around my angel’s neck.
She screams and tries to throw him off, but his other hand comes up to her face, gently stroking it with his knuckles. The gesture would’ve been comforting had it not been for the giant knife he held in his fist. Its long blade glinted in the light, the glare hitting me in the eyes for a moment. Katie stops squirming and closes her eyes. She’s praying, I know she is. I can feel it in the air, the Lord’s presence.
“Well, well, well, sissy! You got yourself a nice little house here. You’ll be so happy when you hear what I’ve done for us. I saved us! I saved you! You’re safe now, sissy! He’s gone!” David says, turning Katie around so that she’s no longer facing me. His hands rest on her shoulders possessively and I can’t tear my eyes away from the knife in his hand, inches from her precious neck.
“David, please don’t hurt me,” she says, sounding shockingly calm. I’m proud of her bravery for a moment, until the terror kicks in a millisecond later.
“Hurt you? I’d never hurt you, sissy! I’ve missed you,” he pulls her close, inhaling the scent of her hair and rocking her back and forth. She’s stiff as a board, not moving, barely breathing.
“Dave. Why don’t you let her go and we can go inside and you can tell us everything you did for Katie,” I say, unable to stay quiet a moment longer. I can’t watch him hold her; can’t stand the sight of his hands on her beautiful body.
He freezes and stops rocking her, gaze snapping up and gray eyes meeting mine before narrowing into slits. “Who are you?” he says, pulling Katie closer, closer to him and to the blade in his hand. I gulp.
“I’m Katie’s best friend. I’ve heard… a lot about you. She isn’t feeling well so why don’t you let her go lay down and you and I can talk while she’s resting?” I say, playing along. It’s what I’ve seen nurses do at John Adam’s when patients were being particularly hard to deal with.
“You want her to leave me? After I just found her again?” he laughs, an insane sounding one that sends prickles to the surface of my already freezing skin. “You’re not taking her from me!”
Katie makes eye contact with me, silently pleading with me to leave. I can see it in her eyes that she wants me to just hop back in my truck and speed off. Not a chance.
“I don’t want to take her from you. She just isn’t feeling very well. I picked her up some medicine so we should let her lay down, Dave,” I say.
He takes a few steps back and I instinctively take a step towards him, which he notices. “Stop it! Don’t make me hurt her. I don’t want to hurt her,” he says, whirling Katie around so that she’s facing me again. He moves the knife so that the tip barely rests on her stomach, but each time she breathes, her delicate skin presses into it a little more. My blood starts to boil and anger replaces a bit of the terror.
“Dave, let her go. Tell me about everything you did for her. I want to make her as happy as possible. I want her to be happy as much as you do,” I say, trying anything to calm him down.
Lord, help me. Please! I scream over and over in my head.
“No one wants sissy happy like David does! Don’t you try to take her from me! She’s mine, I did this for her! So we could be a family again!” he screams, pressing the knife harder into her stomach. It tears her shirt and she drags in a ragged breath.
I wondered why she didn’t try to speak, but now I see why. My necklace, the one I placed on her last night while she was sleeping, is choking her. David’s headlock is yanking the chain taught, and my cross charm is digging into her throat, suffocating her, imprinting her with a symbol that should be a comforting object.
A tear slips down Katie’s cheek and the silence seems to stretch on for minutes, but it’s more like a few seconds. David takes a step backwards, dragging his sister by the neck. She loses her footing, sliding towards the ground, being held up completely by the arm of her brother. Katie starts thrashing, panicking, releasing strangled sobs as she tries to work free.
I charge. The sight of her lips turning blue and shirt growing bloodier by the second drives every ounce of fear from my body and I’m overcome with anger. Before I take three steps, another figure steps out of the shadows, her face red and jaw clenched as she smacks David on the back of the head with a baseball bat.
The impact is enough to force him to release Katie and she drops like a lead weight to the ground. Her brother is too stunned to react and his head whips back and forth between his sister on the ground and the brown haired girl holding a baseball bat.
Sorren has never been strong, let alone strong enough to knock out a six-foot-four man.
Katie scrambles towards me on all fours and I rush to her, not embracing her, but shoving her behind me. I must push her harder than I thought, or she did it on purpose, because she falls to the ground with a grunt. I walk towards David, who is now brandishing a small revolver in his hand, the knife on the ground. He points the gun right at Sorren’s chest, but his eyes remain locked on mine.
The change within them is horrifying. His gray-blue eyes go from raging mad to… blank. With pupils enlarged, face relaxed, and all emotion eliminated from his body, he laughs. The sound sends a shiver down my spine and I sprint the remaining feet between us, tackling him to the ground as the sound of a gunshot rings out.
Chapter 15
Katherine
I’m frozen in terror. The power behind my brother’s hold is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Popping sounds fill my ears and the tears in my eyes are so thick I can’t see anything. A chain from a necklace I don’t remember wearing cuts into the skin around my neck, embedding itself into my flesh.
Tristan… I think, silently pleading with him to run. I know he won’t, I wouldn’t if our situations were reversed, but it’s always worth a shot. I blink the tears from my eyes and they fall down my face before dripping onto David’s sweaty arm.
My angel’s eyes stare back at me, no longer feared with fear. Instead, an anger, in which I’ve never seen grace his eyes, fills him, contorting his face and making him stand taller. Tristan is a tall boy, but he has nothing on David’s sheer size and muscle.
A blow comes from behind David and me, catching us both by surprise. He releases me and I catch my breath, my blood flowing again so quickly that I get dizzy. Tristan rushes towards me, but instead of holding me like I’d hoped he would, he pushes me behind him. The dizziness returns with a vengeance and I tumble to the ground, landing squarely on a large rock that cracks a few of my ribs. I hear the snaps, but don’t feel the pain.
Pieces of a Mending Heart Page 17
