Allure

Chapter Nine

Missy is lying on the black-and-white tile floor, rigid and stiff, her skin the exact medium purple shade as a morning glory bloom. Her mouth is stretched wide and her lids are pried open over glossy, cloudy eyeballs.

Racing to her, I kneel at her body and futilely call her name.

Jack rushes to my side. “Don’t!”

But I reach out anyway, grasping her violet shoulder beneath the skimpy strap of her magenta negligee, but it does no good. She’s in full rigor, unresponsive to my touch. And her skin is as dry and unyielding as saddle leather.

There’s no mistaking it. She’s dead.

“I’m calling an ambulance.” Jack leaps to his feet and races from the room before I can tell him not to bother. We need the sheriff. Or an undertaker.

For a moment, it feels as if time stops and the oxygen has been sucked from the room. Her clownish makeup—candy-apple-red lipstick, sky-blue shadow, and shocking pink blush—contrasts with her navy-blue gums, bright white teeth, and riot of white-blond hair.

Suddenly, the world gushes back and all my senses are on fire. The putrid scent of decay soaks the air, entwined with the lingering fragrance of her strawberry perfume. Water drips from the faucet, slamming into the sink with the force of a missile, then echoes down the drainpipe. A burning, sour taste works its way up my throat. Trembling as my pulse rages, I peel my eyes away from her awful purple skin and scan the room. Aside from her nightie, which is smeared with black sludge, nothing else appears out of place. The knife is nowhere in sight. Out of nowhere, the dark, dank smells of waste, deprivation, and evil shoot straight up my nose and into my brain, jabbing a sharp, wicked pain behind my eyes. Shrieking, I clutch my head, then reel back and stumble out of the bathroom, careful not to touch anything.

Jack’s on the phone next to the four-poster bed. He shakes his head. “No, ma’am, I don’t think mouth-to- mouth will do any good.” He gulps, clearly working to hang on to his pancakes and bacon. “Please, just send someone as fast as you can.”

With a shiver he scans his contacts in his phone then selects one of the entries. Tapping on the speaker he glances over at me. “I don’t think I can handle this one by myself, Em. You’ve got to do it for me.”

“Do what?” Clutching my head, I rub at the stabbing ache as the phone rings. At least now that I’m out of the bathroom, the ghastly stench has begun to dissipate.

“Beaumont Builder’s Development. How may I help you?” The receptionist’s voice is bright and bubbly. She sounds like she’s barely out of high school.

Oh no. Even if my head wasn’t threatening to explode, I wouldn’t want to make this call either. I shoot a pleading glance at Jack, but he shakes his head, his mouth turned down in desperation.

Ugh. Sometimes I hate my brother.

“Hello? Anyone there?” Bubbly asks again.

Raging migraine or not, it’s got to be done. At the very least, Beau needs the basic details, enough to get him home. I clear my throat. “Yes, um, this is Emma Guthrie at High Point Bluff. Is Beau there? It’s really important.”

“I’m sorry he’s out of the office for the morning. Can I take a message?”

“No, I’ve got to speak with him. It’s an emergency. Please?” I add for good measure, hoping she’ll pick up on my misery.

She sighs. “I’ll see if I can link you to his cell. Hang on.”

While we wait, Jack and I exchange looks and I glare hard enough to let him he owes me big time. Finally Beau gets on the line. “Emma, darling. To what do I owe the pleasure of your unexpected, but very delightful call?” He chuckles the kind of laugh that makes my already queasy stomach twist.

I gulp. “I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s been an…accident.” My voice trembles.

“Accident? Good Lord, what’s Missy up to now?” His voice is a low growl. I can almost see the grimace that’s likely plastered across his thin lips. “What’d she do, knock down a wall or something?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. But you really need to come home. Now.” I could spit it all out, give him the gory details of what lies on his bathroom floor, but I can’t bring myself to do that, even to him. Although he and Missy have had their fair share of troubles lately, this kind of news is likely to bring on a heart attack, or make him crash his car on his way home, endangering innocent fellow drivers. Better that he gets here safely first. The sheriff can fill him in on the rest.

“I’m in the middle of a board meeting at The King Center. Can’t it wait?” He pauses. “It’s not your Daddy, is it?” For the first time ever, I detect a hint of genuine concern for my father.

“No, sir. It’s Missy.” My throat constricts, making it nearly impossible to utter the words. “An ambulance is on its way. And so is the sheriff.”

I can hear his anger simmering through the phone. “I’m about through with my wife’s accidents. You tell that ambulance to go on to the hospital without me. I’ll join up when I’m finished here. Or when I’m not so angry.”

Crud. He’s left me no choice. But how do you find the words to express something so horrible? “You don’t understand. She’s…gone.” My voice breaks. I wait for some response but he doesn’t say anything. Jeez, he’s going to make me explain. I take a deep breath. “As in not alive.”

“I’ll be right there.” The line goes dead.

Jack grasps my wrist. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.” He drags me out of the master bedroom.

“To where? We can’t leave. We have to wait for the ambulance.”

“We’re not going anywhere. There’s something we’ve got to take care of before they get here.”

My brain spins. “What?”

“Trust me.” Pulling me out into the hall he calls, “Cooper? Cooper!” Silence. He calls again. A few seconds later, a low murmur comes from Cooper’s room at the end of the hall.

Releasing his grip, Jack charges toward the sound. I follow. Cooper’s in his trashed room, huddled in the corner, a look of sheer terror on his face.

Jack kicks his way through the rubble on the floor. “Dude, you’ve got to pull it together. The ambulance is coming. And so are the sheriff and your dad. We’re going to have to talk to them.”

Cooper shakes his head. He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. Just a jumble of strained sounds.

Jack turns to me. “Emma, we’ve got to straighten this room. Now.”

He wants to clean? Now? “Why? Who cares what the room looks like? Missy is dead.” I can’t believe I’ve got to remind him of that gruesome fact.

Cooper makes a wrenching sound.

“Exactly. Which is why we can’t let the police see it like this. If they realize Missy tore his room apart, they’re going to wonder why. And that will only end up raising their suspicions about Cooper.” He snatches an overturned dresser drawer and sets it onto its track, shoving it into place.

The logic clicks in my head, bringing everything into sharp focus. He’s right. In a sick way, it makes sense to think Cooper might retaliate for her wrecking the room, or to try and conceal whatever she might have found in here. Thank goodness High Point Bluff is in the boonies. It’ll take a few extra minutes for the ambulance and sheriff to arrive.

“Okay, but where do we start?” I will myself to ignore the headache that’s causing my left eye to pulse and twitch.

Jack throws his hands into the air. “Anywhere. Just bend down and pick up whatever you can. Hey, Coop, you going to help?” He grabs another drawer and puts it in place.

Cooper doesn’t flinch. It’s as if he hasn’t heard a thing we’ve said.

A surge of adrenaline hits my system, propelling me forward. There’s no time to make the bed properly, so