Darcy walks up behind her and pulls on Zoey’s shirt. “Zoey, stop,” she cries. “What are you doing?”
Zoey pushes her with enough force to make Darcy land on the ground. I raise my knee and aim for Zoey’s torso. I wiggle away and stumble to Darcy.
“Stand up. We need to go,” I say.
I pull Darcy to her feet and try to walk past, but Zoey grabs my shoulder. She pushes me onto the couch. She climbs on top of me, trying to press down on my chest. Darcy rushes over, pounding at Zoey’s back.
“It’s harder when they fight back,” I grunt. “Did Abigail fight?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zoey shouts. But I do. I know exactly what I’m talking about, and that knowledge is what has transformed Zoey from calm to rabid. She wanted to toy with me. She never imagined I’d be smart enough to piece everything together.
“You wanted me to know, didn’t you?” I ask, blocking her body with my knees. “It’s why you wrote the essay about Darcy in the first place.”
Zoey pulls back her hand and slaps me. I keep resisting and pushing her away. Darcy grabs Zoey’s shoulders and pulls her off the sofa. She falls backward, her body thudding when it hits the floor.
“What is she talking about?” Darcy yells at her.
“She’s crazy, Darcy.” Zoey’s voice sounds disturbingly rational, as though someone flicked a switch. “She’s on the verge of getting fired. She has this weird obsession with me, and now she’s trying to attack me. She’s filling your head and everyone else’s with lies. I don’t even know an Abigail!”
“No,” Darcy says, standing over her. “What is she talking about when it comes to me? What essay?”
Zoey’s mouth opens, but she doesn’t speak. She catches her breath. “I don’t know. I told you. She’s freaking crazy.”
“The person who attacked you wrote about it, then turned the paper into me,” I tell her, trying to catch my breath. “I know it was Zoey.”
“She doesn’t know shit,” Zoey yells.
Darcy looks at me. Then she turns to Zoey. “Did you attack me that night?”
“Darcy, no. Of course I didn’t—”
“Tell me the truth!” she shouts. Her eyes dance around Zoey’s face, as though she’s finally piecing it all together. I don’t know what she remembers, but it’s something. She knows.
Zoey senses she’s losing. She yanks at Darcy’s leg, pulling her to the ground. Zoey lands on top of her, but this time Darcy fights back. Like a cat who has been thrown in water. She claws at her, making use of every bit of rage she’s kept inside for the past month.
Zoey finally retreats, exiting the living room and running into the backyard. Darcy helps me stand.
“Let’s get out of here,” Darcy says.
I follow her to the front door but stop. “Do you have your keys?”
“No,” she says, pausing. “Let’s just leave.”
“Run,” I tell her, turning and sprinting toward the backyard.
I walk outside and see no one. The space is huge, with a large pool in the center. There’s no sign of Zoey, but there’s also nowhere she could have gone. The fence would be too high for her to jump, and there isn’t enough traction for anyone to climb it. I know she must be back here. I circle the parameter of the pool, passing the stone fireplace and looking around the columns connecting the back awning to the ground. She’s nowhere. I spot a shed in the far corner and am walking toward it when I see movement in my peripheral vision. Zoey grabs me from behind.
“Stop, Zoey,” I yell. “You’ve done enough.”
“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” she shouts. “Why couldn’t you have listened to everyone?”
She returns her hands to my neck and squeezes. She grips tighter and tighter, until I’ve lost the strength to fight back. Then I see Zoey’s face turn, and a spray of blood exits her mouth and lands on my chest. It’s enough to make her move away from me. She slides off, raising herself on her knees. As she moves, I see Darcy standing behind her, clutching a fire poker in her hands. Darcy whacks her again, and Zoey’s limp body falls into the pool.
For several seconds, I remain seated. I stare at Zoey face down in the water. I look at Darcy. She’s dropped the poker, her eyes focused on the pool.
“Go inside and call 911,” I tell her.
I catch my breath and stand, moving toward the water. Darcy grabs my arm.
“No,” she says. “Don’t.”
“She’s knocked out,” I say, pushing past her. “If we don’t do something, she’ll drown.”
“If you save her, what will she do next?” Darcy looks at me, rage lighting her eyes. She’s not asking about now. She’s asking what Zoey will do in the forever of years to come. Who will she hurt? Who else will suffer? My body fills with both shame and understanding.
“Go inside,” I say.
Darcy obeys, leaving me alone to choose Zoey’s fate. I descend the steps leading into the water. My clothes soak from my ribcage down. Zoey’s body is near me. So close I can touch her. Flip her over. I could hoist her onto the ledge and give her a chance.
Instead, I do what everyone has told me to do all along.
I do nothing.
Forty-Six
2014
Brian will never leave prison. He avoided a death sentence because he agreed to disclose the locations of the other missing women, including Amber. Her body was found in a patch of woods near our house. Why he went after her remains a mystery. Did he figure out I’d been asking questions about him? Had she decided to confront him after our conversation, and he lashed out by taking her life? I don’t think I’ll ever know what brought them together that weekend, but I know if
