by S. E. Green
The fake mustache he was wearing earlier still sits glued above his upper lip. It’s coming off on one corner, and I really want to rip it the rest of the way. He’s in shock, and I don’t know what to do.
“I-it was so easy with the wife.” Adam’s lashes blink several times, real quick. “I lied to them. I told them I helped Scott and Ted make the videos. It was an instant ‘in’ for me. I drugged the wife and put her in my trunk and-and-and it was so easy. B-but here.” Adam sucks in a breath. “He was going to kill me. I was going to throw his body in the well and cover it with cement, and h-he was going to kill me.”
Well, I guess that explains the cement I found in the trunk of Adam’s car.
He doesn’t say anything after that, and I leave him to his thoughts as I turn to stare down at Mr. Strangler. Now, what to do with the body. The well and cement idea isn’t bad, but I have another idea.
“We should call our parents,” Adam tells me. “Maybe it’s time we let them in on everything we did.”
I turn away from Mr. Strangler to look at Adam. “He was a cold-blooded killer and so was his wife. They both deserved what they got. If we make this official, it’ll tear all of our lives apart. Do you really want that?”
“S-so we just keep this secret? Along with the others?” Adam shakes his head. “I’m beginning to hate secrets.”
“We all have them.”
“How am I supposed to go on? How am I supposed to live with everything I did? I’ve killed two people, Lane.”
Well, three if you count the mercy-kill of his dad, but I don’t think now is the time to point that out.
“You just do,” I say. “You lashed out in anger when Scott died. You lost a brother, and you went after the whole world for it. It’s understandable.”
Adam’s arms tighten around his knees. “My life was fine until you stepped into it.”
I tilt back, not bothering to hide my shock. “What?”
He doesn’t respond to my shock, and where I expect anger to flare in me, it doesn’t and instead, I rationally say, “Fine like how? Like Scott and his sex videos? Or your alcoholic abusive dad? Or your mom who you claim barely knows you exist?”
Fresh tears fill his eyes. “What do you know about anything?”
“I know more than you think.” It’s right there on the tip of my tongue, my deepest darkest secret, ready to be told. I want Adam to know he’s not alone with all of this.
“I-it was a lie. My father. I wasn’t the one who ended his life. It was Scott. I stole the story from him to make me more interesting. He was always the brave one, protecting me from Dad. The funny one who could make Mom laugh. The good looking one who always had friends. He was everything, and I’ve never been anything.”
This boy has lied to me so many times, and I didn’t even know it. Somehow my reliable inner sense that tells me if someone is bullshit or not hasn’t been so reliable with Adam. It’s been more off than on. This should probably worry me, or make me angry, but it doesn’t.
Maybe because I sense honesty in him that has never been there before. He’s laying all his cards on the table. Or perhaps it’s the lingering effects over the fact I killed his brother. Or it could be a very simple kindred thing. I feel responsible for him. We have an emotional connection.
“Adam, I know what it’s like to feel like the odd man out, like something is off, like something is missing from your life. I know what it’s like to be faced with the truth and it be ugly. I haven’t had an easy year, but the one thing I have learned is that the sins of our family will go on and on unless someone, you or me, chooses a different path.”
But is that what I’m doing, choosing a different path? Some days it feels like I am, others not. All I know is that it feels good to visit the other part of me, and as long as I keep it channeled in the right direction, I am choosing that different path.
Several long seconds tick by and slowly, he unwinds his arms from around his knees and slides to the edge of the bed. Gripping the side of the mattress, he lifts his gaze to mine, and I see something that wasn’t there before—a peacefulness maybe, or more like acceptance. “I feel like an injured dog and you just removed my thorn.”
Even though I like that analogy, it makes me chuckle. Sometimes Adam has the corniest thoughts.
He looks around the room. “What are we going to do?”
61
I RETRIEVED THE small bag of Ted’s ash and bones that I kept just in case from my Jeep and placed it in the sex trunk. We wiped down anything Adam touched and stripped the bed. We left Mr. Strangler right where I killed him with all the evidence that linked him to Ted’s death, the strangled girls, and his wife.
With it all, the D.A. got her justice for her son Scott’s death and would never be faced with handing over the sex tapes.
We didn’t call the body in, and it took a few days for it to be found. Of course, the whole thing hit the media as the story unraveled and played out exactly as I had hoped. No one knows for sure who killed Mr. Strangler, but some suspect it was a victim who got away. They’ll search for the fictitious victim for a while, but eventually, that will die down too.
Now one week later, my phone rings, and it’s Adam. “Hey,” I greet him.
“Hey back.”
“How you holding up?”
He sighs. “Did you see my mom on the news? All high and mighty and soaking in the media on this.”
If I thought this was going to bring Adam and his mom closer together, I was wrong. The few times me and Adam have spoken over the week, things seem even more tense than usual in that department.
“Listen, I have some news,” he goes on. “A few months ago before we even met, I applied to be an exchange student in China in one of their emerging technology programs. I found out yesterday I got it, and I’m going.”
I think this is probably the best thing for him. Get out of the area and give him and his mom some space. Adam needs to find out who he really is without the ghosts of his dad and brother haunting him. Without the ghosts of Teddy and Mrs. Strangler, too. “I think that sounds fabulous,” I tell him.
“Yeah, me too. I leave next week, and I was wondering, you’re getting your own apartment soon, right? Will you consider taking Sally?”
I smile because that is about the best question ever. “I will definitely take Sally.” Even if I am stuck in a dorm, I’ll figure it out.
“Cool. We’ll see each other before I leave.”
“Sounds good.” I click off, and for the first time in my entire friendship with Adam, I feel a sense of peace. We’re at a place now we haven’t been before. Our friendship evolved beyond the twists and turns, lies and manipulations into a place of trust and acceptance. I’m glad Adam came into my life. Sure he knows some of my secrets, but I know his, too.
And somehow I also know this isn’t the end of mine and Adam’s story.
“Lane!” Justin yells from downstairs. “Tommy’s here!”
With a smile, I take the stairs down and find him already sitting on the couch playing Legos with Justin. I look at the two of them with fondness as I slide in beside my boyfriend, slipping my arm around his middle and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Hey, where were you last night?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Had a few things to do.”
Tommy’s got his secrets, and I’m going to respect that. It only seems fair given everything I keep from him. Yes, we all have secrets and in that way I’m just like everyone else.
Kind of.
I settle back on the couch, idly watching my brother and my boyfriend play with Legos. In the kitchen, Victor is making homemade pizza and over at the dining room table, Daisy is clicking away on her laptop. I’m not sure if she and Hammond have made up or not, but I’ll ask later.
Justin giggles at something Tommy says, and I smile. Yeah, life is pretty great. I’ll hopefully have my own apartment soon and Sally, the dog. I’ll be here local for my family. I’m going to be the best damn sister and
daughter I can. And now I even have a boyfriend. I used to think I was hollow and empty inside, but I’m not.
How did all of this happen? Before I couldn’t wait to leave and to be alone, but now I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Is it because I want to belong? Is it because I want to be a part of something bigger than just me and my twisted legacy? Either way, I’m here.
But what do I really have to offer my family? It’s just me here, demented Lane. But who’s perfect? Certainly not me. The question is, what happens next?
For the first time in my life, I don’t care. I’m content, and I’m here in this moment. I’m happy. Yes, life is good.
A rattling bag draws my attention over to Daisy at the dining room table. She’s pulling a box from a paper bag and it’s the giant initials DNA that makes me sit up.
“What are you doing?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and they must leave my mouth in a loud tone because every single person stops what they’re doing to look at me.
Daisy hesitates. “Um, one of those Ancestry DNA tests everyone’s been doing lately.”
I steal a glance at Victor as I get up from the couch and walk straight over to her. I lower my voice, looking at her long and hard. “I don’t want you to do that.”
Her voice is soft and weak, when she says, “I already did.”
KILLERS AMONG
The Suicide Killer
S. E. Green
1
Lane, the college student.
Lane, the dorm girl.
Lane, ready to off my roommate.
“Bye!” Sabrina, my roommate, chirps with an exuberant wave. She swings her book bag over her shoulder, double checks her lip gloss, finger combs her straight black hair and bangs out the door.
With a groan, I drop my head to my desk. One semester. I only have to make it one semester and then I can get my own apartment. Because my sister, Daisy, was right—all incoming freshmen are required to stay one semester in the dorms.
Now, though, I’m going to sleep. Between Sabrina’s daytime chattiness and her nighttime snoring, I can’t recall the last time I had several hours of uninterrupted sleep. It’s pretty non-stop with this girl.
With a yawn, I climb up the short ladder to the top bunk, grab my down pillow, and cram it under my head. I’m halfway into a solid cycle of REM when the door bangs back open.
“Guess what?” Sabrina tosses her book bag onto the bottom bunk. “My class got canceled!”
I don’t open my eyes. Maybe she’ll get the hint and shut the hell up.
She whirls away and over to the mini-fridge. “Want a soda?”
I don’t answer.
There’s a pop, a fizz, and then a couple of gulps.
“You don’t mind if I turn on music, do you?” she asks.
Oh my God, this isn’t real. There is no way this girl is my roommate.
I know it’s coming, but still when she turns on the opera, I groan. Leave it to me to be the only student who gets an opera lover as a roommate.
She takes one step up the ladder, and I do open my eyes now. Her head peeks up and over my mattress and when her black eyes meet mine, she grins. “I knew you weren’t sleeping!”
And apparently, I won’t be any time soon.
2
At home, it’s no better.
Upstairs Victor, my stepdad, and Justin, my middle-school-aged brother, are yelling. Or rather Justin is the one yelling. “God, Dad, what’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that it’s a school night,” Victor calmly responds. “You can stay with your friend on a weekend, not a weekday. You know the rules.”
“You look like shit,” Daisy says, and slowly, I blink my heavy eyelids.
With a yawn, I scoot over to the couch and fall down beside her. She’s got a MacBook propped open on her lap, and she turns it slightly, so I can’t see what’s on the screen. Interesting. She smiles a little, but it’s there in her blue eyes. She’s hiding something.
Closing my eyes, I lean my head back on the cushion, pretending I don’t notice. “What’s up with Dad and Justin?”
“It’s been like this a week,” she says. “They are arguing over everything. It’s driving me nuts.”
Upstairs Justin stomps across the hall, a door bangs closed, and it echoes through the house. Justin’s always been a low key kind of kid. I suppose he was due for this phase.
“Poor Dad,” Daisy mumbles. “Tell me I was never like that.”
“Not with Dad, no, but with Mom…” Opening my eyes, I roll my head to the side to look at Daisy’s pretty profile. As I do, she closes the MacBook and lays it on the cushion beside her left thigh.
“Speaking of, you doing okay?” I ask.
Daisy’s lips firm. “I don’t want to talk about that bitch.”
“Fair enough.” This past summer (and unbeknownst to me) Daisy did one of those genetic tests and discovered yet another secret I’ve been keeping from her. She found out Victor isn’t her real dad. She found out my dad is her real dad.
Yet one more thing Mom lied about.
She’s digging more into Mom. Daisy wants answers, and I get it. She already knows our “perfect” mother wasn’t so perfect after all, and she suspects there’s more.
Part of me wants her to find out the whole truth so I have someone to share it with. But the other part, the big sister part, wants to protect her from our dark heritage.
All I can do is keep an eye on Daisy, and maybe do a little digging into her MacBook when I get a chance. Now, though, I glance over my shoulder toward the stairs that lead up to the bedrooms to make sure Victor hasn’t come down. I turn back to Daisy. “You haven’t told—”
“Absolutely not.” She shakes her head. “It would kill him.”
We both hear Victor coming down the stairs and turn to see him step into the great room. He takes one look at me, and I can tell Justin’s temper tantrum has worn him out, but Victor still offers me a sweet and loving smile.
“Let me guess,” he says. “Opera? Snoring? Motor-mouth?”
I laugh. “All of the above.”
“You need to have a talk with her. There’s only so long a person can function without sleep.”
“I will.” Standing up, I turn a circle, looking for my Jeep keys. “I have to get to my Patch and Paw shift.”
Daisy nods to my right hand. “You’re holding them.”
I look down at the keys in my hand. “Oh.”
“Lane,” Victor sighs. “You need sleep.”
Lane, the college student. Lane, the dorm girl. Lane, the sister. Lane, the daughter.
Lane, the sleep-deprived zombie.
3
At Patch and Paw, the veterinarian clinic where I have worked for years, one of the volunteers throws a handful of balls up into the air. The under-twenty-pound dogs take off in all directions, zipping and zinging across the play area.
“Is this the life or what?” the elderly volunteer asks.
I don’t bother opening my eyes and instead stay leaning up against the side of the clinic. Can a person sleep standing up?
Over to my right, the side door opens and footsteps tread across the fake green turf. I recognize those steps. Dr. O’Neal always digs her right heel in when she walks.
“Lane,” she says.
“Hm?”
“Lane!”
I open one eye to see Dr. O’Neal staring at me in stark contrast to her usual gleeful and way-too-happy personality. She folds her arms, and I open both eyes. I’m not usually nervous around Dr. O’Neal, but right now she’s alarming me. I’ve never seen her glare.
She says, “When you asked me if you could stay on and train under me as you went through your undergrad in Biology, I was very excited. But I have to tell you, ever since you started college, you’ve been a real disappointment around here.”
I push off the wall, fully awake now. “What happened?”
“The question is more, what hasn’t happened? You were supposed to d
raw blood on the Rottweiler. Place a catheter in the mixed breed lab. Give medication to the elderly cat that was brought in this morning. And thirty minutes ago you were supposed to assist me with surgery.”
That can’t be right. I search my brain… “I thought that was my list for tomorrow.”
“You wanted more responsibility around here, and I gave it to you. But so far you’re not proving you can handle it.”
“I can.” I straighten up. “I haven’t been getting enough sleep.”
Dr. O’Neal is a petite woman, but right now she’s not so small as she continues glaring at me. “I’m a single mom with two kids under the age of five. I don’t get a whole lot of sleep either. But you don’t see me walking around here yawning, bleary-eyed, forgetting my work, and falling asleep on the job.”
Oh, shit, I’m totally getting schooled by this woman. I nod. “You’re right. I apologize. You can count on me. I promise.”
She doesn’t respond to that and instead just stares up into my eyes, and while she does, I try to show her how really sorry I am. Whatever she sees must appease her because she nods, spins on her heel, and disappears back through the side door.
“Phew,” the elderly volunteer says. “I have never seen her angry. You okay?”
With a nod, I head inside too.
As is usual when it comes to Dr. O’Neal, I compare her to my former boss, Dr. Issa, whom I had a thing for and whom I greatly admired. The truth is, he would have handled the situation exactly the same. And for that, Dr. O’Neal officially just earned my respect.
Frankly, I’m lucky she didn’t fire me.
4
After my shift at Patch and Paw, I swing by Judge Penn’s court. It’s on my way back to campus and so I might as well. Plus, I haven’t been by since Adam left, and Penn’s court is my happy place.
