Closer Than Blood

recognized it. She modulated her words.

“How can you do this to us?” she asked.

“I thought I could.”

“Give it to me. Give me the gun. True love,” she said, “means doing the right thing.” He handed her the weapon.

“Do you still love me?”

“You’re not making it easy, but, yes, baby. I do.”

When it came time to do what they’d agreed to do, Tori stood there naked, her young lover behind her. He was dressed. He was supposed to be the shooter, but he was unable to do what needed to be done. The smell of gunfire filled the living room. Blood had blown back on her breasts. A piece of her dead husband’s brain stuck on her neck, and she flicked it off. Her eyes were ice.

“Fire it.” Parker looked at his father’s body.

“He’s already dead.” She poked the gun in his direction.

“Are you serious? So what? You have to be a part of this. I’m not carrying this burden alone.”

“Tori,” he said. No other words came.

“You’ve got two seconds. Now you’ve got one second.” Parker stepped closer to his father and pointed the gun. His hands were shaking.

“Steady or you’ll hurt someone,” she said. The gun went off, and Tori took it. She immediately pointed it at her thigh and fired. She didn’t even wince.

“Get out now,” she said. Parker didn’t know that she’d made sure that his fingerprints were on the gun. She thought of it as her “insurance policy.” Or one of them, anyway.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Tacoma

The note that appeared at the front desk stared at her, and Kendall Stark stared back. It was like looking at the face of a cobra, ready to lift its head and strike. It was a shark with its jaws wide open and a ladder lodged in it so that all a person had to do was climb down to die. So easy. Just come on inside.

STOP AND THINK. JASON TOLD ME. I KNOW. YOU NEED TO BACK OFF.

Kendall swiveled out of her chair and shut her office door. She turned to face the portrait of her family and the dying fern on her desk. She pressed her back against the door not because she was tired, but because she could barely stand. Her lungs were devoid of oxygen. She felt as if her knees would fail her, like a wooden peg doll that had its pins removed by a terrorizing child. She felt such fear, and she knew that the sender had declared war on her weeks ago. I know you sent this, Tori. I know you are the one. She heard a knock on the door and she spun around.

“Kendall?” The voice belonged to Josh. Now isn’t a good time, she thought.

“On the phone with my mom’s doctor,” she said.

“Be a minute.” She let herself slide to the floor.

The voice on the other end of the line was toffee—sweet, but with sharp, dangerous edges. The conversation between Parker and Tori was spoken in the kind of hushed tones reserved for those who do not want others to hear.

“What is it that you want now?”

“You. I’m waiting for you.”

“Hold on a bit longer.”

“Waiting for you is hard.”

“Really? I like that.”

“Not that. You know, I miss you.”

“You miss making love to me.”

“Yes. I miss everything about you. I want to hold you. Taste you. Be inside of you.”

“Patience.”

“You said it wouldn’t be much longer.”

“Mmm. Longer. I like that, too.”

“Knock it off. I’m going crazy here.”

“Come to me.”

“Where? When?”

“I’ll make a plan.”

“You’re good at that.”

“Yes, I am.” The bedroom door swung open and another voice cut into the conversation. It was Parker Connelly’s mother, Laura. He set the phone down.

“Hey, don’t you knock?” he said, his eyes blazing annoyance. She noticed the phone in his hand.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Were you listening? A friend.”

“A girlfriend?”

“Mom, that’s none of your business.”

“All right, Parker. You’re right. None of my business. But you can’t blame me for wanting to know what’s going on with you. Come on, get up. Let’s make a run to Costco.” Parker didn’t move. Noticing the placement of his hands under the covers and the redness of his face, the first Mrs. Connelly knew why. She averted her eyes and backed out toward the door.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” she said, shutting the door.

“Okay, Mom. Next time you come in my room, knock first.” He put his phone back to his ear.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“Your mother’s a control freak. If she finds out about us, you can expect nothing but trouble,” the toffee voice said.

“I love you, Tori.”

“I love you more, Parker.” Parker turned off his phone. A quick cleanup and he’d be ready to go to Costco. Laura Connelly reached for the knob of her kitchen TV and turned the sound up slightly. Her stomach started to knot. The news was playing a segment about a memorial service for a minister who’d been murdered at his church in North Kitsap. The name of the church scared her: Lord’s Grace. She’s seen that name before and she knew where.

“Ready to go?” She turned to see her son.

“You look like crap, Mom.”

“I’ll be okay,” she said. God, I hope we’ll all be okay.

Tori Connelly’s face fell like a chocolate souffle four minutes after serving. The summer before she made her plans, she opened the Blue Chip Benefits envelope addressed to her husband. What? It was as if a lightning bolt had struck her in the heart. The words were direct, incontrovertible.

“Pursuant to your request, the change in beneficiary is complete. Sole beneficiary is Parker Adam Connelly.” She carefully folded the insurance company’s missive and returned it to the envelope. She considered attempting to reseal it, but thought better of that plan. She’d torn it when she passed a silver letter opener along the seam across the top. Instead, the only solution was to destroy it and pretend it never arrived. Quietly, she walked into her husband’s office and turned on the shredder. In a second the letter had been turned into confetti. Confetti she would use to sprinkle over his grave. Tori knew what was coming next. Alex would leave her for that bitch he worked with downtown. He’d make up some lie and try to wriggle out of everything he’d promised her. Like her mother had. Like Jason. Like Zach. Like all of them. Her heart was racing, pounding like a broken drum inside her chest. Damn him. Damn all of them. I will not be set aside by anyone! Tori drew a deep breath and made her way back to the master bathroom. Never again! She turned on the cold water faucet, filling the white basin of the vintage pedestal sink. Never! She splashed the water against her face. Over and over. Water puddled all around her, but she didn’t care. She was fighting for control, for reason, for what she would do next. I can do this! She was trying to pull herself together. She didn’t cry. She didn’t want to open her emotions for the world to see. She’d been good at hiding them before. Tori had been adept at going with the flow. Tori knew that her answer was the teenage boy playing World of Warcraft in the bedroom down the