by Gina LaManna
"But they'll be looking closest at me—especially since I broke out of jail. You're not totally innocent in this either, missy."
"Actually, that's a good point. I'm surprised I haven't heard from Nathan yet, asking where I went…" Her eyes got large as she looked up at me. "I don't have a phone. And neither do you, I'm assuming."
I gave a queasy smile. "Nope."
"Excellent."
"At least they can't track us," I said with a halfhearted smile.
"I kind of want someone tracking us. Especially if we're talking about going into the house of a murderer."
I looked at Donna. "We can't get the cops involved yet. They'll be too concerned about asking us stuff, and we don't have a ton of evidence on Sarah. Especially not stuff that can be explained quick and easy…"
"And without giving away Alfie. Jax knows about Father Olaf."
"Exactly." I looked up. "Plus, the more time we waste, the greater the chances are that we don't find Mrs. Jenkins alive. And I don't think she killed her husband."
Donna's face turned stony. "But I don't want to lose you too. If Mrs. Jenkins is already dead, I'm not letting you risk your life."
"But I don't want to spend my life behind bars."
"I won't let that happen. There's no evidence on you."
"Except for my fishnets at the crime scene!"
"I'll break you out again if I have to."
Donna and I were locked into a staring contest, both of us breathing heavy, neither of us ready to relent.
"Here's the deal," I said. "I don't want to lose Sarah. It's unlikely, but what if Father Olaf or Alfie got in touch with her and told her we're onto her? Or maybe Jax mentioned that I was broken out of jail—if he knows about it, which he probably does. Either way, she might be getting ready to run. I would, if I were her."
"And your idea to stop her is…"
"I think you should go to the cops. We don't have a phone, but the station's not far. Take the car. Go talk to Nathan or Jax. They'll believe you much more than they'll believe me," I said.
"What do you want me to tell them?"
"Tell them exactly what's been happening, what we found out, what Father Olaf told us. Get Alfie to back you up if you need—after all we've tried to do for him, we can only hope he'll help us. Gauge if they believe you. But go straight to Jax and Nathan. I still don't know who broke into my house and used a cop car to get away, so we can't take any chances of someone on the force hearing about this if they're in cahoots with Sarah."
"Of course."
"If they seem ready to work with you after all that, tell them you'll bring them to me only if they promise to arrest Sarah as well. They can take me in if they want, but I'm not going without her," I said.
Donna nodded. "What will you be doing?"
"I'm going to stay here. Keep an eye on the house."
"And if she leaves?"
"I don't have a car. How could I follow her?" I shrugged. "If she leaves, the best I can do is pay attention to which way she goes and wait for you to come back."
"You won't go in after her by yourself?"
"No." I wanted to cross my fingers behind my back, but I owed this much to Donna. "I promise you. I'll wait. I have faith you can convince Nathan or Jax. But you have to go now, and you have to hurry. Jax won't like to hear that his girlfriend is…uh, not who he expected."
Donna nodded. "Don't do anything dangerous."
I gave her a one-armed hug, and she kissed my cheek. "You got it. I plan to buy you a big steak after this, and I plan to be alive, eating one with you."
Donna hustled away, ducking into the shrubbery until she was in the clear on the other side of the block. I watched as she got into the car and cruised away, off to convince the cops to let me be free.
I hunkered down behind the bushes and settled in to wait. For the first few minutes, I tried to get comfortable amid the branches poking me in the ear and the leaves scratching against my neck. When a huge spider crawled on the stick directly in front of my face, I leapt backward, stumbling through the bushes.
The leaves rustled and the branches shook. Despite the loudness, I couldn't do anything about it. It was a huge spider. And I really didn't like spiders. I crouched behind the bush, a safe distance back, but I couldn't see much from across the street. Maybe if I took a few steps closer…
Slipping across the street was easier than I expected. There'd been no sign of Sarah so far. Not even a shadow in the window. It was a little worrying since the house was small, and I could see through the window panel by the front door all the way through to the backyard.
But she could be in the small upper level or the garage that peeked out from behind the house. It was a good sign she wasn't watching through her front windows, or I'd surely have been discovered by my tumble through the underbrush.
A large evergreen sat watch next to her front window, and now that I was on her side of the street, I could see a small opening under the branches, the perfect-sized burrow for a human around my height. If I could just sneak past the front windows…
A few seconds later I'd zipped across the front yard, after a few minutes of careful scanning of the surroundings. But the neighborhood appeared quiet, the houses spread out and independent. Some had hedges, others fences, and still others had landscaping that encouraged private yards and minding one's own business.
It was easy to sneak under the wide, outstretched arms of the Christmas-style tree, and I even found my new habitat to be warm and comfortable. It would be simple to wait here until Donna came back, cops in tow.
The dried, crispy brown tree needles created a nifty little blanket for me to kneel on, while the fullness of the branches covered me almost completely. I could see all of the yard, including the front door and a generous peek into the living room window. I hadn't seen any movement in the house yet, but there was no way Sarah could've left. From my hiding spot, I could see straight through the living room back to the garage, which was silent and dark.
My lack of phone was slightly irritating when I realized I couldn't check how long had passed since Donna had left and I'd migrated to my new hiding spot. Maybe it'd been one minute, and Donna wasn't even to the station yet. Or maybe it'd been thirty minutes, and Donna was already back, promising to show the cops my hiding place and discovering I'd jumped ship.
Dang, I thought. Maybe I should've left a note, or an arrow made out of sticks, or something to show the direction I'd headed. I glanced back at the house. All was still motionless. Maybe I could scoot back across the lawn really quickly, check if Donna was parked down the street, and leave a small note…
A mumbled voice drew my attention back to the house. It was coming from the upstairs, I suspected. From the outside, there appeared to be a small, itty-bitty loft above the living room. Certainly not enough space for a bedroom, but maybe enough space for storage. Storage of what, I was hesitant to find out.
The curtain in the window of the upper level billowed lightly, and I thought I could make out a shadow inside the room. Unless it was a breeze from the outside and my eyes were playing tricks on me, which was entirely possible. All this waiting was starting to mess with my head, the smallest noises causing me to flinch.
But wait—the window was shut. The motion wasn't due to a breeze. There was someone up there.
I scooted back, very slowly. I had to get closer. I had to see if that was Mrs. Jenkins up there.
But as I scooted back, I bumped my head on something that hadn't been there moments before. My spine tingled, and my gut clenched as the cool metal of what may or may not have been a gun pressed to the back of my head.
A very calm, very collected voice spoke. "You're going to want to stand up very slowly and come with me."
I stood up, arms raised, and very slowly turned to face my archenemy from kindergarten. Her blue eyes, which I'd dismissed as cute and quirky, were now icy.
They were crazy eyes, for sure, but not crazy in the sense of a psychotic mental pati
ent. They were crazy because they were so calm, so wide, and so determined. I had little doubt she'd shoot me in a second, and even less she wouldn't think twice about doing it.
"Sarah, it doesn't have to be like this," I said. "Please, I just wanted to see…"
"What did you want to see?" Sarah gave a chuckle, though her face was covered in a grimace. "Me kiss the love of your life? Me finish off Mrs. Jenkins? Me rock some sexy burlesque moves for your man-crush?"
"Is Mrs. Jenkins alive? Please, let her go. We can talk."
"She's alive, but not for long. Plus, it's too late to help her anyway. Or it will be too late by the time people find her." She shrugged.
"Where is she?" I had to keep her talking. It was my only chance. I was unarmed, with only a few pine needles and maybe a dry stick or two at my disposal. Meanwhile, Sarah had a gun on her, which she obviously wasn't afraid to use.
If I could keep her talking outside the house, Donna was bound to come back sooner or later, hopefully with the police. I needed to get a confession from Sarah. But too early, and nobody would hear it, and it'd probably leave me dead before the others arrived. Too late, and Mrs. Jenkins would die.
Sarah shrugged. "Doesn't matter. She was old anyway."
"But she didn't deserve to die. And neither did her husband."
Sarah barked a laugh. "What do you know about Anthony?"
"Not a whole lot, which is why I am clueless as to why you pinned his murder on me," I said, pushing a stray hair back from my face.
"It was too easy. Much too easy, Misty. Plus, you always hated me. I needed someone to blame, and you were it. Really, don't take it too personally."
"You've always been psycho! Ever since kindergarten," I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
"And you've always been pretty and smart and successful. How about leaving the rest of us something to do well at?" Sarah retorted.
"What?" I gaped at her. "You're jealous of me?"
"Not anymore, ironically. Which was an unplanned bonus of this whole debacle. Enough talk. I don't want to kill you out here. People might hear. Walk back toward the garage, and if you move a muscle, I'll shoot."
I scanned the path for anything I could use against Sarah. A stick, a spare shovel, a leftover ball from a neighbor kid. But there was nothing. Her yard was immaculate. Almost as if she was prepared for the situation.
"Press the button," she said, gesturing next to the garage door. "The big one. Anything funny, you move a muscle, and you're dead."
I pressed the button. Sarah stayed just far enough behind me so that I couldn't lash out at her with a foot or swing an elbow. She was good. She was careful. She was calculating. And she didn't seem to be taking any stupid risks, which was probably how she'd gotten this far without getting caught in the first place.
My stomach jolted a few notches. I didn't have a good feeling about how this would end. As the garage door opened, I wasn't sure what to expect. Dead bodies? Mrs. Jenkins? Though I hadn't known what to expect, I'd expected something. Not the barren room before me. There was nothing in the garage. Not a car, not a shelf—nothing. With the exception of a suitcase and a small purse in the corner, the place was spotless and empty.
"Going somewhere?" I asked.
"Might take a sunny vacation for a bit when all this is over. I really can't stand any more of Jax's nagging. Commitment this, commitment that…but then again, you and I—we have that in common, don't we?" She smiled. "You ran away from him too. Poor Jax. Will the guy ever learn?"
She crooked an eyebrow, which served to turn some of the fear in my stomach into anger. Jax didn't deserve this. Not now, not ever. He was a good guy. I couldn't let Sarah get away, leaving Jax to wonder what he'd done wrong again. I wouldn't let that happen.
"You're evil," I said.
"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes. "You were always Miss Mother Theresa, weren't you? I was quite surprised when you came back as a stripper with purple hair."
"It's ombré," I said. "And I'm not a stripper. You should know that. You took my class."
"Enough chitchat. I'm getting bored, and I've got a flight to catch." Sarah raised the gun and glanced at me. Her finger crooked back.
"Wait." I called out. "Tell me one thing."
Sarah's finger relaxed. "What?"
"Why did you do it? Why kill Anthony and blame me?"
"You really haven't put it together?" Sarah's hand remained steady.
"Some of it…" I paused.
But obviously Sarah didn't want to indulge me, judging by her twitching trigger finger.
I took that as my cue to start talking before Sarah shut me up permanently. "Let me guess, then. You moved back here from somewhere—you mentioned you went to San Diego. Did you live there?"
Sarah's expression was somewhat less than mildly amused, but she didn't comment. A lightbulb clicked on in my head.
"You got into the whole cosplay thing in San Diego. Then when you moved back here. Maybe you missed it, or maybe you needed extra cash…or something," I said, gaining steam as Sarah's eyebrow lifted. "Then, for whatever reason, you found out about the underground comic shop in Little Lake."
"Pretty good, actually. In fact, I met Anthony in San Diego. He mentioned that if I ever moved back, he had an opportunity for me in Little Lake. Good money, easy hours, fun job," she said. "I was pretty bored of traveling around by that time, and I wanted to buy a house. So I came back."
"But you didn't have a job, so you took up Anthony's offer for some quick cash," I added. "And then it turned out to be more than you bargained for. It started as innocent costume stuff, but Anthony wanted more. Did he pay you to sleep with him?"
"I'm not a prostitute." Sarah's eyes flamed. "I loved him. Shut your mouth, Misty. I don't ever want to hear you say that again. I loved Anthony, and he loved me."
"But apparently he didn't love you enough to leave his wife for you." I pressed onward, mostly because Sarah seemed to have forgotten about the gun in her anger, and it drooped to point at my midsection. I could maybe survive if the gun went off at that angle.
"He was going to leave her." Sarah looked a bit uncomfortable. "He kept promising me."
"But you gave him an ultimatum?" I asked.
"He waited too long! It wasn't my fault. He got the inheritance, and he was going to have to split it with the old witch because he didn't leave her in time. That money was supposed to be for me and Anthony. We were going to go away to San Diego, or the Bahamas—someplace warm. Because we loved each other."
"He wasn't going to go," I said quietly. "You realized it. And he wasn't going to give you his money."
Sarah raised the gun. "That's right, asshole. People aren't who you think they are. Ask Jax. I'll bet he was surprised when you left him ten years ago. Really broke his heart, you know. He still talks about it. Cries, even. Embarrassing for a grown man."
I leapt forward. I didn't care about the gun. The feeling of hatred inside me had been bubbling up ever since I'd seen Sarah again, latent after years and years gone past, back to when she'd stolen my tooth at the tender age of five. I guess she'd just been born a bad apple.
But now, the rate at which my anger increased had gone up exponentially since we'd entered the garage, and I wanted to grab her, shake her until she was scared and breathless, until she said she was sorry for hurting Jax, and for killing the Jenkinses, and for ruining my studio.
Her eyes widened, but before I could get to her, there was a shot.
I crashed into Sarah, the gun clattering to the ground as her hand flew to the side of her head.
"Ow, goddamn it! I'm shot!" Sarah wrestled me off her, but I had years of resentment built up inside, and I pinned her to the ground. I kicked the gun out of reach, wondering who in the heck had shot at Sarah. And if it had been a bullet, why she wasn't dead.
A noise in the bushes drew my attention, and I looked up to see Donna walking toward me holding Harmony's BB gun.
"Donna!" I said. "What are you doi
ng?"
She gave a sheepish smile. "I didn't trust you not to go in, so I drove home and called the station. I explained quickly to Jax and Nathan everything they needed to know, and then I came right back here. This was the only thing I could find," she said, raising the BB gun. "I don't allow guns in the house, and you'd brought this over with Harmony yesterday."
"I'm buying you two steaks," I said. "You're a rock star."
"Bitch, that hurt," Sarah said, still struggling to throw me off of her.
I concentrated my efforts on keeping her down. Donna gave her another shot, this time to the thigh.
"The next one is in your eyeball," Donna said. "So don't move. And I have a few questions myself."
"You do?" I asked.
"You bet I do," Donna said, looking none too happy. "Sarah, did you steal my sunflowers? I left those for Misty. But when I stopped by Jax's place and ran into Sarah, I saw some looking suspiciously like them sitting on his kitchen table."
Sarah rolled her eyes.
"Did you?" Donna pressed.
"Yes, fine. It was too easy to pin it on that creep, Alfie."
"Alfie didn't have the sunflowers in his backpack when he left that day?" I asked. "I assumed he did."
"It was probably his stupid costume in the bag," Sarah said. "He carried that thing everywhere."
"What about the break-in at my house? Did you get someone to do that?" I asked.
"No, that was all me. I took Jax's cop car. He didn't even notice, and again, Alfie was too easy," Sarah said. "The people in this town make it so easy to commit a crime!"
"It was you that called the station and tipped off the cops after class, and the first phone call about Mr. Jenkins's body—that was you, too, wasn't it?" I asked, things slowly falling into place. "I thought it was nosy Barbara who called after class, spilling her guts about Mrs. Jenkins's odd comments. And it was you I passed on the day my studio was vandalized." I shook my head. "And when you broke into my house, was it to steal another stocking?"
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Very good. A-plus as usual. Still the straight A student you were all your life, except now it doesn't matter anymore."
"Did you kill Mrs. Jenkins with the stocking?" I asked.
