And then there is a noise so loud that Cecily doesn’t register it as noise, but as the deafness of all other things. A gunshot, right next to her.
And then there is Amber, pulling Reena’s body away and clutching desperately for her sister, pulling Cecily upright toward a corner where Rudy is slumped and bleeding, a trail of blood oozing from his leg.
Positioning herself in front of Cecily, Amber turns, gun raised, to where Reena fell. Cecily half expects to see her rise and come lunging for them, but Reena is lying on her back, staring up at them with strange, unfocused eyes as her blood trickles into the hidden compartments beneath the floorboards. She presses her hand to the bullet wound in her side, but it’s no use. Her other hand flinches toward her neck, but she doesn’t have the strength to press the second wound. Her breath is a soft, quiet gurgle. She reaches for the dropped shears but falters. Her hand falls limply to the ground.
In the background there is the low wail of one siren, then many. Amber’s phone on the ground alights with missed calls, all from Jada, Mom, Dad. Someone had seen the livestream. Someone had called the police. They will be right on time to save Rudy and Joseph. The livestream had worked. It just didn’t work as expected.
Reena’s eyes settle on empty space by the window and lock. The color drains from her face. At first, Cecily thinks that this is because she is dying—because she is, she so clearly is. But then Reena speaks. “Alex.”
Cecily gasps. Her eyes snap to the window, but there is nothing—only the thin curtains, swaying in a light wind.
Reena lets out a whimper—from pain or fear, Cecily cannot tell. Reena locks eyes with Cecily. “Don’t let her get me.” It’s a plea, but all Cecily has to offer Reena is a shell-shocked silence as her blood pools on the floor.
Reena’s gaze slides away from the window and she darts her eyes around the room. To Cecily, it seems as though she is searching for any kind of solace. Her eyes close then flick open. They rest on the walls, one after one, each in turn. Her wet, gurgling breaths become faint hisses as she seems to seek comfort in something that isn’t there. Lost in the new paint, staring at the empty places where her mother’s murals used to be.
EPILOGUE
Cecily
Cecily runs her fingers over her face, feeling the bumps and ridges of the scarring. The latest round of plastic surgery was a success, but traces of the acid burn will follow her for the rest of her life. Slowly, she is coming to terms with it. She’s been seeing a therapist, and bit by bit she can feel the cracked pieces of her starting to pull back together. Still, some days, loving her new face is less than easy. On those days—days like today—she likes to think of Bella. About how much she’d wanted Cecily to have this kind of courage. Cecily smooths out the folds in her peach-colored blouse and gives one final look at her flawless makeup.
Amber appears in her doorway. “You look beautiful,” she says. Cecily looks up to find her sister dressed in a sleek black pantsuit.
Cecily gives her a smile. “Thanks.”
Rudy joins them. Even though it’s been a full nine months since the events at the Tremont house, he still walks with a slight limp. But his physical therapists are optimistic that it will improve even more with time; he’s even been approved to play club sports at college in the fall. “Happy birthday to us,” Rudy says. “Are you ready to show ’em?”
Their followers hadn’t called the police in time to stop Reena, but they had called them in time to save Rudy and Joseph. For that, Cecily will always be grateful.
Cecily casts one last look in the mirror and nods. She will never be the same. None of them will. “Yeah,” she says, and her smile is genuine. “I am.”
“Excellent. There’s cake downstairs, so let’s get a move on. Besides, I know that Amber’s antsy to see her smokin’ hot girlfriend.”
Amber elbows him. “Shut up.”
“It’s true . . .”
Together, Cecily and her siblings descend down the stairs and into their party.
The new house is beautiful. And the most beautiful thing about it? It’s not a renovation.
The days of flipping houses are a thing of the past for the Cole family, and Cecily could not be more pleased. They’re renting a smaller place in west Norton as a kind of all-seasons crash pad. It means that Amber and Jada get to see each other often, and Rudy is able to continue physical therapy with the team that helped him in the aftermath of being shot.
Jada is waiting in the foyer. “You three look great,” she says, pulling Amber in for a hug and adding in a whisper, “But, of course, some of you look better than others.”
Cecily laughs. Once upon a time, she would have cared, but now she doesn’t. They’re alive, and that’s all that matters.
Reena was wrong—the livestream had saved them. At first, their followers had believed it was all being staged, but once Reena took them up to the turret—and especially after she shot Rudy—thousands of their followers had called it in.
Their parents had even seen it. They made a U-turn and promptly got arrested for reckless driving, but that didn’t stop them from calling up everyone they knew, trying to get anyone, anyone, to their children.
People had cared about what happened to the Cole triplets.
Cecily saves a slice of birthday cake to take to Joseph tomorrow. He’s still recovering from his injuries and unable to come to the party, but Cecily and her siblings visit him often. He’s now more like an uncle to them.
In the wake of Reena’s visit, hashtags trended all across the internet: #ColeMurder #TheColeTruth #ColePatrol. Their followers
