Don't Say a Word (Strangers Series)

by Jennifer Jaynes

  She remembered all her nasty words over the last few weeks. Zoe snapping at her. Threatening her. Warning her.

  Do something brave for once . . . Stop being such a freak, Carrie! They’re going to think something’s up . . . Oh my God . . . Act normal for once, okay? Get over it, Carrie. Just get over it . . . Don’t you want to see me happy?

  She had put Zoe on a pedestal all her life, and Zoe had just thrown her away, making her feel small, worthless . . . completely disposable. It seemed almost everyone was disposable to Zoe.

  From the beginning, Carrie had wanted to be honest about what had happened, but Zoe had begged and warned her to keep it a secret. She’d tried, but the secret had torn her mind into shreds.

  Zoe was shaking with rage now, probably knowing without a doubt that Carrie had come clean. “Carrie? What did you tell them?”

  “We need to separate them,” she heard one of the women in the room say.

  Carrie’s knees felt weak, but she held her ground. “It’s not just about you anymore, Zoe.”

  Lightning flashed behind Zoe’s eyes. “Anymore?” she yelled. “Don’t you get it? It was never about me.”

  Zoe’s words only confirmed what Carrie had been thinking. Zoe was willing to do whatever it took to be loved, including getting rid of anyone who threatened to get in the way, or let her down. Their mother, Gary, Johnny, Sammy—and quite possibly even Joey, although Carrie probably would never know for sure.

  Over the years she’d replayed that afternoon dozens of times: Zoe watching Joey as he ran toward the road and not even moving. Carrie forced the memory away and stared back at her sister. “You said to be brave for once, didn’t you?” she said. “So I’m doing something brave.”

  Zoe narrowed her eyes. “You little bitch.”

  A bitter taste filled Carrie’s mouth, as though she were tasting Zoe’s rage.

  Carrie’s eyes flitted to Sergeant Davis, then back to Zoe. “Gary Willis didn’t kill my parents,” she said.

  Zoe’s face reddened and contorted with such fury, Carrie barely recognized her. She rushed toward Carrie, her arms extended straight out in front of her, screaming like a lunatic. But before she reached Carrie, Sergeant Davis caught her in his arms.

  “Don’t you dare!” Zoe screamed. “Don’t you fucking dare!” She thrashed around in the policeman’s arms. “Don’t say a word. Not a fucking word, Carrie!” she screamed. “Oh my God! Are you that stupid?” she yelled. “Really? Are you?”

  Salty tears rolled down Carrie’s face. She wiped them away, then shook her head. “No, I’m not stupid. Not anymore.”

  Carrie listened as the ambulances outside left with Sammy and Allie, the sirens screaming into the winter night. A police officer and senior caseworker had led Zoe out the front door several minutes earlier. The expression on her face was imprinted in Carrie’s mind. She’d looked completely mortified.

  The air was charged as Carrie sat at the dining room table across from Detective Lambert, Sergeant Davis, Miss Judy, and Renee. Detective Lambert’s dark hair was soaked with rain and slicked back. His clothes were wet, and sticking to him. Carrie could hear commotion outside the house—Zoe screaming at someone.

  Carrie wanted Detective Lambert to know that Zoe had lied about Gary. There’d never been an argument the night her parents were killed. In fact, Gary and their mother never argued. Zoe had also lied about waking up to find Gary in her bedroom. Yes, Gary was a big screw up. But he had never done anything bad to them.

  Carrie was ashamed that she’d let him take the fall. She knew she was partially responsible for his suicide, because if she’d only spoken up earlier, it never would have happened. It was just one of many things she would never forgive herself for.

  She remembered Gary that morning in the backyard, waving the gun. That was Gary under great distress, not the Gary she remembered. He’d been afraid, confused—and had known exactly how guilty he seemed.

  Seeing Gary that morning had been like seeing a ghost. Zoe had figured they’d just arrest him and that would be the end of it. But Gary had hidden from the cops, knowing how bad everything appeared. How easily he could go to prison for something he hadn’t even done.

  He’d been at the house that night. There’d been witnesses to confirm it. His fingerprints were all over the house, his DNA, too. He’d also just been given a lot of money. Carrie was pretty sure her mother and Gary had been planning to run away together, but she now wondered if they’d really planned on taking her and Zoe—or if it had simply just been another of her sister’s many lies. One of her many acts of revenge. Carrie wondered if she would ever know.

  The room was silent. Detective Lambert’s eyes were fixed on hers. “Carrie, if Gary didn’t kill your parents, who did?”

  She glanced at Sergeant Davis. The big man looked up from the notebook he’d been scribbling in and nodded . . . as if to tell her it was okay to go on. But again, she was having a difficult time getting the words out.

  Everyone sat silently. Waiting, expectant.

  “Did Zoe do it, Carrie?” Detective Lambert offered.

  Carrie gazed at him through tear-filled eyes. “No. Zoe didn’t do it. It was me. I killed them.”

  The Night Before the Murders

  What Zoe whispered to Carrie had sucked the air out of her lungs. “That’s not funny, Zoe,” she said, a sense of disquiet quickly forming in her middle.

  Zoe’s eyes were flat. “I’m not joking.”

  Carrie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was Zoe okay? She couldn’t be thinking straight.

  “Don’t you see? It’s the only way to stay with Dad,” Zoe said.

  She was serious.

  Dead serious.

  Carrie took deep breaths, trying to slow her thundering heart. “But you can’t just go and kill people just because . . .”

  “You don’t understand.” Zoe’s cheeks were soaked with tears. Her eyes were wild. “If I have to live with her any longer, it’s going to kill me. Either that or I’m going to kill myself. I’m not kidding, Carrie. I can’t take this anymore. Living like this . . . I’m dying.” More tears rolled down her cheeks, and her face crumpled. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t!”

  Carrie felt sick. “But I’m sure there are a million other ways. Better ways. We’ll figure something out.”

  Zoe shook her head. “No.” She marched to the closet and rooted around. Finally, she pulled out a plastic Wal-Mart shopping bag. She brought it to the bed and held it open. In the bottom lay one of her father’s handguns.

  Their father kept his guns in a box on the top shelf of the master bedroom closet. The girls had known about the guns for years.

  Carrie’s jaw dropped.

  “I took it months ago. He hasn’t even noticed.”

  “What? Why?”

  Her sister stared at her. “Just in case.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of something like this.”

  “Oh my God, Zoe! Have you lost your mind?”

  Zoe’s eyes bore into hers. “No. But I’m about to.”

  Carrie shook her head.

  “And you are the one who has to do it,” Zoe said. “They’d never in a million years think it was you. I have it all planned out. You can do it while they’re in the shower. Right through the shower curtain. It would be so easy. So fast. You won’t even have to see them.”

  Carrie shook her head vigorously. “No.”

  Zoe narrowed her eyes. “Come on. For once in your life do something brave. Mother’s not a good person. Neither is Gary. You know he’s killing people, dealing that meth shit, right? Everyone would be better off if they weren’t around. Especially us.” Zoe placed her hands on Carrie’s shoulders. “Think about it, Carrie. We’d get to live with Dad. How great would that be?” Zoe smiled. “Life would be totally different for us.”

  Carrie shook her head again.

  Zoe’s smile skidded off her face. “We don’t deserve to live like this, Carrie. We haven’t done anyt
hing wrong!”

  Silence fell between them.

  Zoe watched her for a long moment. “I swear, Carrie . . . I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With this,” she said, clutching the gun and pressing the barrel against her cheek, “to myself.”

  Carrie felt the breath leave her lungs for the second time that evening . . . because she believed her.

  After Zoe had fallen asleep, Carrie lay on her back in bed and cried so hard and for so long, the tears streamed into her ears.

  She’d never been able to say no to Zoe. She’d never had to . . . before now. Zoe had to be insane to think that killing their mother and Gary was a good idea. That it was the solution to their problems. Right?

  But she discovered the more she thought about it, the less shocking it sounded . . . and she started finding ways to justify it. After all, what other options did they have?

  Living with Mother and Gary . . . and not being able to see their father . . . would be unbearable . . . and it would absolutely kill Zoe.

  If Zoe didn’t kill herself first.

  And it was likely she would.

  And Zoe . . . well, she was the one who really counted, right? Besides, what would Carrie do if Zoe was gone?

  She trembled in bed, the logic starting to make sense.

  When Zoe pulled out the gun the next afternoon and pressed it to her temple so she could see her reflection in the mirror, Carrie heard herself say she’d do it.

  Zoe spun around to face her, relief in her eyes. She removed the gun from the side of her face and dropped it back into the bag, then hugged Carrie hard. They hugged for a long time, their hearts pounding against one another’s.

  Carrie was going to please her sister, do something brave—save her sister’s life. After all, things couldn’t get worse.

  She just hoped she could really go through with it.

  “You’re going to have to do it tonight,” Zoe said.

  Carrie’s stomach clenched. “What? Tonight?”

  “Yes, tonight. The longer we wait, the harder it’ll be.”

  Carrie swallowed nervously.

  Zoe studied her. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me, Carrie.”

  “I . . . I just don’t know if I can.”

  Her sister frowned. “But you just said you would.”

  “I . . . I know.”

  “So do it,” Zoe snapped.

  “We’re talking about killing people!”

  “Just don’t think about it.”

  “How can I not think about it?”

  Zoe’s hands were on her shoulders again. “Remember when I jumped off the high dive the summer we were nine? I was only able to do it because I didn’t let myself think about it. I didn’t give myself time to get scared. That’s what you’ll need to do, okay?” Zoe stared at her. “Carrie, don’t you dare chicken out on me.” Her eyes turned cold. “I swear . . . I’ll hate you if you do. I’ll hate you, and I’ll fucking kill myself.”

  Two hours later, Zoe walked into the room with two red plastic cups full of rum and Sprite. She told Carrie to follow her into the closet, and they sat in the dark with a flashlight and drank together.

  Carrie took a sip to calm her inflamed mind. Her brain felt like it was actually bleeding. Once she was a little calmer, she’d again tell Zoe that she just couldn’t do it. She never should’ve said she would.

  What had she been thinking?

  As she took her first sip of the strong drink—her second drink ever in her twelve years—she heard their mother laughing in the master bedroom. Then she heard the bang of her headboard against a wall. Carrie glanced nervously at Zoe, knowing that this time she wouldn’t scream for them to stop. She had worse things in mind for them.

  Zoe fumbled for her earbuds and pressed them into her ears, then sat rocking and nursing her drink.

  After Carrie’d swallowed about a third of the drink, her eyes went out of focus a little and she got sleepy. When she looked up at Zoe again, she noticed her eyes were closed and she was slumped over to her left, the side of her head pressed against the wall, her small chest gently rising and falling.

  She had fallen asleep.

  Relieved, Carrie pulled some shirts from their hangers, balled them up, and lay her head on them. Letting her own eyes close, she took a deep breath and hoped Zoe wouldn’t wake until the morning.

  But what only seemed to be a few minutes later, Zoe was shaking her. “Crap. We fell asleep!” she said. “Hurry. It’s time.”

  Carrie heard the pipes in the walls clank. Their mother and Gary were in the shower.

  “It’s a good plan, Carrie,” her sister said, swinging the closet door open and pulling Carrie to her feet. “No one will ever know it was us.”

  Two minutes later, Carrie found herself walking, unsteadily, from her bedroom into the hallway, her sister’s hand on her back, guiding her forward. In Carrie’s right hand was the loaded gun.

  Her brain was screaming at her to stop . . . to turn around and go back to her bedroom . . . but she knew she couldn’t back out. She was going to make her sister happy. That was what she did. Zoe would never forgive her if she didn’t do it. Besides, she was saving Zoe’s life, which would save them both—and their lives would be so much better afterward.

  Everything would finally be okay.

  Her blood was electric as Zoe pushed open her parents’ bedroom door and nudged her forward. Carrie walked into the room, the gun bobbing with every shake of her hand, her finger already on the trigger. She could smell the clean, spicy scent of Irish Spring soap in the room and could hear shower spray coming from the bathroom.

  Her breath left her with a jolt when she saw their mother walk toward them, toweling off her long, blonde hair. She was supposed to be in the shower!

  The woman frowned, seeing the gun. “What the hell? Carrie, give that to me this minute!”

  The woman held out her hand expecting Carrie to surrender it.

  Carrie’s heart pounded in her ears. She was shaking. The gun was shaking.

  “Do it, Carrie!” Zoe hissed. “Now! Stop thinking!”

  Their mother’s eyes went from hers to Zoe’s, then, to hers again . . . and they filled with fear.

  She took a step backward. “Carrie—”

  “Now!” Zoe screamed.

  Carrie’s skin flashed hot then cold. She did as Zoe instructed. She squeezed her eyes closed and fired off two rounds. When she opened her eyes again, her mother was on the floor. She was holding her belly, staring up at them. She made a gurgling sound, then blood trickled out of her mouth and her eyes went still.

  Carrie trembled. It had happened so quickly.

  She dragged her eyes away and forced air into her lungs. She was going to vomit.

  An iciness ran slowly from Carrie’s head to her feet as Zoe shoved her closer to the bathroom. “Hurry, while he’s still in the shower.”

  In the middle of the steamy bathroom, Zoe turned Carrie so she was facing the shower.

  Carrie listened to the water roar down from the pipes.

  “Do it!” Zoe hissed, leaving drops of spit on the side of Carrie’s face.

  Carrie’s hands shook so much she wondered if she might drop the gun.

  The water suddenly stopped.

  “Do it, dammit!” Zoe demanded.

  From the other side of the shower curtain: “Julie?”

  Carrie looked away as the curtain screamed open. Her brain was trying to tell her something, but at the same time, Zoe was shouting for her to pull the trigger. Unable to think clearly, she looked away and squeezed the trigger twice more, shooting off two more rounds. Just as the gun discharged the second time, she heard Zoe scream, “NO!”

  The command baffled her. Plus, she’d already done it.

  The man fell toward them, in a tangle of blue plastic shower curtain.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Zoe screamed.

  Car
rie concentrated on the water bouncing off the tiled floor of the shower and onto the man’s hairy arm. She watched the blood quickly mix with water and swirl past a clump of her mother’s wet hair . . . and down the stainless steel grate.

  Zoe kept screaming.

  Carrie wished she would stop.

  She knew that something more terrible than even what they’d set out to do had happened. Something else that they could never take back. But she didn’t want to know what that was.

  After a while, she reluctantly let her eyes crawl to the man’s face, and she screamed, too.

  Her father had come home early . . . and now he was tangled in the shower curtain, his lips parted, as though he’d been in the middle of trying to say something before he fell. His beautiful brown eyes were half open, but unfocused.

  He was already gone.

  Her father, who she loved so much. One of the only people who could make her smile. One of the few who had ever loved her. Feeling as though she’d gutted herself, Carrie let her arm fall limply to her side, and the gun slammed into the top of her foot, its hot barrel scorching her skin. She fell to her butt and backed into a bathroom cabinet and cried, trying not to listen to her sister bellow like a wounded animal a few feet away from her.

  After that, Carrie lost all sense of time. At some point, she felt Zoe drag her back to her bedroom closet, where Carrie didn’t move for days—until paramedics carried her out.

  CHAPTER 41

  ALLIE SAT IN Sammy’s hospital room, feeling nothing but gratitude. She held her son’s small hand as he slept, thankful that he was still with her. They’d given him Flumazenil in the emergency room, an antidote for the Xanax poisoning, and an IV drip . . . and assured her that he would be just fine.

  He didn’t seem to remember most of what happened and didn’t appear at all frightened. He just kept telling her that Zoe had given him medicine, then let him have only one gummy worm when she said she’d give him more.

  Allie had regained consciousness as they were strapping her to a gurney in the woods. After an initial examination in the emergency room, she had signed a waiver to discontinue treatment so she could be with her son.