Chapter 6
Megan crumpled to the concrete.
Her eyes rolled back.
She was out.
I stood over her.
Breathing hard.
Screwdriver still in my hand.
Noah made a small sound behind me.
“Is she dead?” he whispered.
I knelt down.
Felt for a pulse in her neck.
Thready.
But there.
“No,” I said. “She’s just sleeping. Come on. We have to go. Now.”
I grabbed his hand.
We ran for the stairs.
Up.
Two at a time.
I paused at the top.
Listened.
Voices from the living room.
David and Caroline.
Arguing.
Quietly.
“—can’t trust her,” David was saying. “She’s going to crack. I know it. One wrong word to the cops and the whole thing falls apart.”
“Relax,” Caroline said. Her voice was calm. Confident. “She won’t say anything. She’s too scared. And even if she does? We’ve covered every angle. The records are forged. The witnesses are paid. The drugs are in the house. Nothing leads back to us. Nothing.”
“Still,” David said. “I don’t like it. We should just kill them. Both of them. And the kid. Dump the bodies in the lake. Report them missing. By the time anyone finds anything? We’ll be in the Caymans. Drinking margaritas. Counting our money.”
My blood ran cold.
Kill them.
Both of them.
And the kid.
Noah squeezed my hand.
I squeezed back.
Don’t move.
Don’t make a sound.
“No,” Caroline said. “Too risky. Too many variables. Too many places to leave evidence. This way is cleaner. Sarah goes to prison. Megan goes to the nuthouse. Noah comes with us. No bodies. No investigations. No loose ends. It’s perfect.”
“Nothing’s perfect,” David muttered.
“This is,” Caroline said. “Trust me. I’ve done this before. Remember the Hendersons? Remember the Kline deal? No one ever suspected a thing. This is no different. By this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over. And we’ll be rich.”
A pause.
Then David laughed.
“God, I love it when you’re evil.”
“I know you do.”
Then I heard the sound of kissing.
Ugh.
I looked around.
The front door was ten feet away.
Through the kitchen.
But the kitchen was between us and the living room.
They’d see us.
Hear us.
The back door?
On the other side of the house.
Past the dining room.
Also risky.
And then I saw it.
The door to the garage.
Right there.
Five feet from the bottom of the basement stairs.
Closed.
But unlocked?
Maybe.
I pulled Noah toward it.
Slow.
Quiet.
Turned the handle.
It moved.
Silent.
Thank God.
I slipped inside.
Pulled Noah after me.
Closed the door.
Softly.
We were in the dark again.
But this was a different dark.
Garage dark.
Smelled like motor oil and lawn clippings and Megan’s old minivan.
I let go of Noah’s hand long enough to feel for the light switch.
Found it.
Flicked it on.
Low wattage.
Dim.
But enough.
The minivan was parked in the middle.
Megan’s 2019 Honda Odyssey.
Dented.
Reliable.
The keys—
Where were the keys?
In her purse?
On the hook by the door?
I checked the hook.
Empty.
Purse.
Where was her purse?
Upstairs.
Probably.
Damn.
I looked at the minivan.
Maybe the doors were unlocked.
Maybe she kept a spare inside.
I tried the driver’s door.
Locked.
Passenger.
Locked.
Sliding door.
Locked.
Damn.
Damn.
Damn.
And then I saw it.
On the workbench by the door.
The garage door opener.
A small black clicker.
With Megan’s initials on it in pink nail polish.
I grabbed it.
Pressed the button.
Nothing.
Dead batteries.
Of course.
I looked around for something else.
Anything.
A bike.
Noah’s bike was in the corner.
Blue.
With training wheels.
Too small for me.
Too slow for both of us.
Lawnmower.
Weed whacker.
Boxes of Christmas lights.
A shovel.
An axe.
Wait.
An axe.
Dad’s old axe.
Hanging on the wall.
Sharp.
Heavy.
I grabbed it.
Better than the screwdriver.
Then I heard a sound from the house.
The basement door.
Opening.
“Megan?” David’s voice. “You down there? Megan?”
A pause.
Then—
“Caroline! Get down here! Now!”
Panic.
I looked at Noah.
“Hide,” I whispered. “In the back of the van. Under the blanket. Don’t make a sound. No matter what happens. Okay?”
His eyes were huge.
But he nodded.
He climbed into the back of the minivan through the open rear window—one of the back ones was cracked, he squeezed through—and disappeared under the old moving blanket Megan kept back there.
I hefted the axe.
And waited.
The garage door handle turned.
Slow.
David stepped through.
He had the gun again.
Held down by his side.
He saw me.
Saw the axe.
And smiled.
“Sarah,” he said. “I should have known. You always were the stubborn one.”
He raised the gun.
“Put the axe down,” he said. “And maybe I won’t shoot you in the head. Maybe I’ll just shoot you in the leg. Cripple you. Keep you alive long enough to see us take everything. Long enough to watch Noah call me ‘Dad.’”
I didn’t move.
“David,” I said. My voice was steady. Steadier than I felt. “You don’t have to do this. Caroline is using you. You know she is. As soon as the money is in her account, she’ll get rid of you. Just like she got rid of the Hendersons. Just like she got rid of the Klines. She said it herself. She’s done this before. You’re just another tool to her. Another Megan.”
His smile faltered.
Just a little.
“Shut up,” he said.
“It’s true,” I said. I took a step toward him. Axe held ready. “Think about it. She’s got all the money. All the connections. All the brains. What do you have? A gun? A temper? She’ll throw you under the bus the second it’s convenient. She’ll tell the police you did it all. That you kidnapped Noah. That you shot me. That you forced Megan to help. She’ll cry on the stand. Play the grieving widow. And everyone will believe her. Because she’s rich. And beautiful. And you’re just David. The deadbeat ex-husband with a temper and a record.”
I took another step.
“Work with me,” I said. “Help me take her down. We’ll cut a deal. You testify against her. You get immunity. Or reduced time. You can still be part of Noah’s life. A real part. Not this fake garbage she’s selling. Be his dad. For real. Not for money. Because you love him.”
He hesitated.
The gun wavered.
For a second—just a second—I thought I had him.
Then the garage door opened again.
Caroline stepped through.
She was holding something.
A knife.
Long.
Sharp.
Chef’s knife from the kitchen.
“Very impressive, Sarah,” she said. She smiled. That cold, silk-over-glass smile. “You almost had him. Almost. But you forgot one thing.”
She stepped up beside David.
Ran a hand down his arm.
“David knows exactly who he is,” she said. “And he knows exactly what he gets if he stays with me. Money. Power. Respect. Everything he’s ever wanted. Everything you could never give him. And if he helps me kill you right now? I’ll even let him have Megan. For a little while. Before we get rid of her too. Isn’t that right, baby?”
David looked at her.
Looked at the gun in his hand.
Looked at me.
And the reasonable mask slipped.
For just a second.
I saw what was underneath.
Weak.
Greedy.
Scared.
And I knew.
He was never going to help me.
He was never going to be the father Noah deserved.
He was always going to be this.
A coward.
A user.
A monster.
“Sorry, Sarah,” he said. He raised the gun again. Steadier this time. “Nothing personal. Just business.”
He fired.
I moved.
Dove to the left.
The bullet slammed into the wall behind me.
Plaster exploded.
I rolled.
Came up swinging.
The axe caught him in the shoulder.
He screamed.
Dropped the gun.
It skittered across the concrete.
Caroline lunged at me.
Knife flashing.
I ducked.
The blade sliced through the air where my neck had been a split second before.
I swung the axe again.
Wild.
Desperate.
The flat of the head hit her in the side.
She grunted.
Stumbled back.
I dove for the gun.
Fingers closed around the grip.
I rolled over.
Sat up.
Aimed.
David was on his knees.
Clutching his shoulder.
Blood pumping through his fingers.
Caroline was leaning against the minivan.
Gasping.
Holding her side.
The knife was on the floor.
Ten feet away.
“Stay back,” I said. My hand was shaking so hard the gun wobbled. “I swear to God, I’ll shoot.”
David laughed.
It was a wet, gurgling sound.
“You won’t,” he said. “You don’t have the guts.”
I pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit the concrete an inch from his knee.
He flinched.
“Try me,” I said.
Caroline pushed off the van.
“David,” she said. Her voice was tight with pain. “She’s bluffing. Shoot her before she shoots us.”
“I can’t,” he gasped. “My arm—”
“Then get the knife!”
He looked at the knife.
Started to crawl toward it.
I aimed at his other knee.
“Stop,” I said.
He kept going.
I fired.
Missed.
The bullet went through the minivan’s back window.
Glass exploded.
Noah screamed from inside.
“Noah!” I yelled.
It was a split second.
That’s all it took.
Caroline threw herself at me.
We hit the concrete together.
The gun went flying.
She was on top of me.
Nails raking my face.
Teeth bared.
She wasn’t beautiful anymore.
She was a wild animal.
“Bitch,” she hissed. “I should have killed you when I had the chance. I should have killed all of you.”
She wrapped her hands around my throat.
Squeezed.
My vision started to go dark at the edges.
I grabbed at her wrists.
Pulled.
She was stronger than she looked.
Stronger than me.
The world was narrowing.
Just her face.
Twisted with hate.
And then—
THWACK.
She froze.
Her eyes went wide.
Her hands loosened.
She slumped to the side.
Behind her, standing over her, was Noah.
Holding the axe.
Both hands wrapped around the handle.
Face white.
“I hit her,” he whispered. “Aunt Sarah. I hit her.”
I gasped for air.
Coughing.
Sitting up.
Caroline was on the floor.
Not moving.
Blood pooling under her head.
David was staring.
At her.
At Noah.
At the axe.
And then he screamed.
A sound I’ll never forget.
Half rage.
Half terror.
He launched himself at Noah.
“You little bastard!” he screamed. “I’ll kill you!”
I grabbed the gun.
Fired.
Once.
Twice.
The first hit him in the chest.
The second in the throat.
He went down.
Hard.
And didn’t move.
The garage was silent.
Except for the sound of me gasping for air.
And Noah crying.
Quiet.
Shocked.
I crawled to him.
Pulled the axe out of his hands.
Threw it aside.
Pulled him into my lap.
Held him.
Rocked him.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. Over and over. “It’s okay, baby. It’s over. It’s all over. You’re safe. We’re both safe.”
Outside, a siren wailed.
Far away at first.
Getting closer.
Louder.
And then another.
And another.
Someone had heard the shots.
Someone had called the police.
They were coming.
Help was coming.
I looked at the bodies on the garage floor.
Caroline.
David.
Two monsters.
Dead.
And in the doorway of the house—
Megan.
Standing there.
Holding her head.
Staring.
At the blood.
At the bodies.
At me.
Holding her son.
She opened her mouth to say something.
But the sirens were too loud.
May you like
And the police were already in the driveway.
And everything—everything—was about to change.
