“George, it’s Karen,” she said, the words rushing out. “Is everyone okay there?”
“Yes, yes, we’re all fine,” he said, sounding just as anxious as she was. “Thank God you called. I’ve been so worried. How are you? How’s Amelia?”
Relieved, Karen just wanted to sink down in one of the chairs at Helene’s breakfast table. But there was no time. She quickly explained to George what had happened. “I’m not sure if Annabelle’s going to pull through,” she said.
“Well, her boyfriend didn’t make it,” George remarked. “Just a second…”
Karen heard him talking with someone on the other end. Then he got back on the line. “We’re here at the West Seattle police station,” he said. “My house is a mess. We can’t go back there tonight, and Jessie says all the hotels in town are booked. She thought you wouldn’t mind putting up Jody, Steffie, and me for the night.”
“Not at all,” she said. “There’s plenty of room. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Jessie has a key.”
“Thanks. Think you and Amelia will make it home tonight?”
“It might be a few hours, yet,” Karen said, still catching her breath. “We’ll have a lot to explain to the police here.”
“I’m probably in for the long haul myself,” George said. “Salem’s finest have quite a few questions for me. If I make it to your house before you and Amelia, I’ll wait up for you.”
“That would be really nice, George,” she said with a little smile. “Listen, I should get back to Amelia and her sister.”
“Please, be careful, Karen,” he said.
“See you later-at my house.”
She hung up, and then started to dig into her purse. “Thank you, Ms. Sumner. Do you think five dollars will cover it?”
Frowning, Helene shook her head. “Put your money away, for goodness sakes. Do you need any medical supplies? I have some bandages and hydrogen peroxide….”
“I think we’re okay,” Karen replied, heading for the door.
“What exactly happened?” she asked. “Did I just hear you say something about Amelia’s
“I’ll explain it to you later, okay?” Karen said, still frazzled. She opened the door. “I really need to get back. Thank you again, Ms. Sumner.”
But Karen stopped abruptly. In the distance, she heard a strange pop-like a firecracker going off. Helene’s dog let out a yelp. The old woman put a hand over her heart. “My goodness, there it is again.”
Karen gazed at her and blinked.
“That’s the same sound as before,” Helene explained.
“Oh, no,” Karen whispered. She turned and started in the direction of the Faradays’ house. At first, she just took a few cautious steps, but then she started moving faster.
“I wouldn’t go back there!” Helene called. She held on to her dog’s collar to keep her from chasing after Karen. “Miss, I wouldn’t go there! That was a gunshot! Wait for the police!”
But Karen didn’t stop. She didn’t hear her. She was thinking about Amelia.
And she was running for her life.
Ten minutes before Frank Carlisle’s old revolver was fired for a second time that night, Amelia had been standing in the doorway of the fallout shelter. She’d watched over her twin sister, curled up on the cot with a bloody dishtowel on her stomach. Shivering in just her bra and jeans, Annabelle looked so vulnerable. There were patches of blood smeared on her exposed pale, creamy skin. Her every breath seemed like a struggle. “I’m cold,” she whispered, her teeth chattering.
“I know, I’m cold too,” Amelia replied, wincing as she clutched her own stomach. The cut on her hand was starting to sting, too. She wondered if her sister also felt it.
Amelia had bled all over that itchy old blanket when she’d slashed the palm of her own hand. She knew there were extra blankets up in the bedrooms. She’d told Karen earlier she didn’t think Annabelle would try anything. But she wasn’t so sure anymore. She noticed the large piece of glass still on the floor beside Annabelle’s shoes. Amelia and Karen had removed her brown suede flats in an effort to make her more comfortable.
Amelia quickly retrieved the shard of glass. “I’ll get you a clean blanket,” she said, finally.
“Thanks,” Annabelle whispered. It seemed like an effort as she lifted her head to look at her.
Amelia backed away from the fallout shelter, but then she hesitated. She had a bad feeling about leaving Annabelle unguarded. She didn’t know if it was her own intuition or if she’d read her sister’s thoughts. But suddenly she didn’t trust her.
“I’m sorry,” Amelia murmured, with one hand on the thick, heavy door. She pushed it shut.
“Amelia, no!” her sister cried, her voice muffled.
Amelia set down the piece of glass. Then she grabbed a square-edged, short-handled shovel from the floor, and propped it under the door handle. “I’ll be right back,” she called to her sister. She had a deja vu sense about this moment, about talking to someone locked in a bomb shelter. Amelia didn’t remember ever experiencing this before-certainly not here in the basement of the lake house. She wondered if something similar had ever happened to Annabelle.
Ascending the basement stairs, she felt slightly winded and dizzy. Between the pain in her gut, the slash across her hand, and everything else, it was a wonder she hadn’t fainted yet. In the kitchen, Amelia went to the sink, and slurped some cold water from the faucet. She splashed her face, and felt a little better. Then she grabbed the revolver off the counter.
Annabelle’s purse, a large leather satchel, sat on the kitchen table. Amelia peeked inside it to make sure her sister didn’t keep a gun of her own in there.
Annabelle didn’t have a revolver, but she had a blackjack and a hunting knife. Amelia glanced around the kitchen for a place to hide them. She finally stashed them in the refrigerator inside the crisper drawer. She dumped the purse’s remaining contents onto the tabletop to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. Amid the junk, she noticed Annabelle’s wallet: her lipstick and compact; several loose bills, some twenties among them; chewing gum; and a beautiful black onyx ring.
It was Shane’s ring. He’d loved it. That ring had belonged to his grandfather.
Amelia felt a pang in her gut, and she started to cry. Clutching the ring in her wounded hand, she wandered toward the living room. She’d forgotten Karen’s warning not to go beyond the kitchen. She hadn’t been prepared to see all the dried blood on the wall behind the rocking chair. Another large bloodstain marred the carpet. In both cases, she knew whose blood she was looking at, because she’d seen it happen through her sister’s eyes. She’d seen Annabelle murder her mom and dad, and Ina, as well as Collin, and Shane.
Amelia tearfully gazed at Shane’s ring again, then she kissed it and tucked it inside the pocket of her flannel pajama bottoms.
Now the only thing she held was the revolver.
Her sister knew about guns. But Amelia didn’t. She’d never really fired a gun before. She’d only experienced it secondhand.
Amelia forced herself to go halfway up the stairs, until she saw the bloodstains on the wall by where Annabelle had shot her mother. Almost in a trance, she walked back down the steps and out the front door.
She needed a practice shot. She didn’t want to screw it up when she did it for real. Though barefoot, and dressed in only her pink T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, Amelia barely felt the cool night air whipping at her. She didn’t even notice that the ground was wet and cold, and hundreds of stars were out tonight. All she thought about was showing Annabelle that she could kill, too. She picked out a target-a pine tree about thirty feet from the house. Aiming the revolver at a branch, she squeezed the trigger. On the branch, there was a small explosion of bark, wood, and pine needles. She felt a jolt in her hand, and the sound made her jump.
But she hadn’t dropped the gun.
The shot still echoed across the lake.
She could do this, Amelia told herself. It was easy.
She turned around and headed back inside the house. She would tell Karen and the police that Annabelle had suddenly attacked her. They’d believe her, too. Amelia couldn’t help smiling a tiny bit. She was already thinking like her sister.
