Don't Say a Word (Strangers Series) (23 page)

Carrie was going to please her sister, do something brave—save her sister’s life. After all, things couldn’t get worse.

She just hoped she could really go through with it.

“You’re going to have to do it tonight,” Zoe said.

Carrie’s stomach clenched. “What? Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. The longer we wait, the harder it’ll be.”

Carrie swallowed nervously.

Zoe studied her. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me, Carrie.”

“I . . . I just don’t know if I can.”

Her sister frowned. “But you just said you would.”

“I . . . I know.”

“So do it,” Zoe snapped.

“We’re talking about killing people!”

“Just don’t think about it.”

“How can I not think about it?”

Zoe’s hands were on her shoulders again. “Remember when I jumped off the high dive the summer we were nine? I was only able to do it because I didn’t let myself think about it. I didn’t give myself time to get scared. That’s what you’ll need to do, okay?” Zoe stared at her. “Carrie, don’t you
dare
chicken out on me.” Her eyes turned cold. “I swear . . . I’ll hate you if you do. I’ll hate you, and I’ll fucking
kill
myself.”

Two hours later, Zoe walked into the room with two red plastic cups full of rum and Sprite. She told Carrie to follow her into the closet, and they sat in the dark with a flashlight and drank together.

Carrie took a sip to calm her inflamed mind. Her brain felt like it was actually bleeding. Once she was a little calmer, she’d again tell Zoe that she just couldn’t do it. She never should’ve said she would.

What had she been thinking?

As she took her first sip of the strong drink—her second drink ever in her twelve years—she heard their mother laughing in the master bedroom. Then she heard the bang of her headboard against a wall. Carrie glanced nervously at Zoe, knowing that this time she wouldn’t scream for them to stop. She had worse things in mind for them.

Zoe fumbled for her earbuds and pressed them into her ears, then sat rocking and nursing her drink.

After Carrie’d swallowed about a third of the drink, her eyes went out of focus a little and she got sleepy. When she looked up at Zoe again, she noticed her eyes were closed and she was slumped over to her left, the side of her head pressed against the wall, her small chest gently rising and falling.

She had fallen asleep.

Relieved, Carrie pulled some shirts from their hangers, balled them up, and lay her head on them. Letting her own eyes close, she took a deep breath and hoped Zoe wouldn’t wake until the morning.

But what only seemed to be a few minutes later, Zoe was shaking her. “Crap. We fell asleep!” she said. “Hurry. It’s time.”

Carrie heard the pipes in the walls clank. Their mother and Gary were in the shower.

“It’s a good plan, Carrie,” her sister said, swinging the closet door open and pulling Carrie to her feet. “No one will ever know it was us.”

Two minutes later, Carrie found herself walking, unsteadily, from her bedroom into the hallway, her sister’s hand on her back, guiding her forward. In Carrie’s right hand was the loaded gun.

Her brain was screaming at her to stop . . . to turn around and go back to her bedroom . . . but she knew she couldn’t back out. She was going to make her sister happy. That was what she did. Zoe would never forgive her if she didn’t do it. Besides, she was saving Zoe’s life, which would save them both—and their lives would be so much better afterward.

Everything would finally be okay.

Her blood was electric as Zoe pushed open her parents’ bedroom door and nudged her forward. Carrie walked into the room, the gun bobbing with every shake of her hand, her finger already on the trigger. She could smell the clean, spicy scent of Irish Spring soap in the room and could hear shower spray coming from the bathroom.

Her breath left her with a jolt when she saw their mother walk toward them, toweling off her long, blonde hair. She was supposed to be in the shower!

The woman frowned, seeing the gun. “What the hell? Carrie, give that to me this minute!”

The woman held out her hand expecting Carrie to surrender it.

Carrie’s heart pounded in her ears. She was shaking. The gun was shaking.

“Do it, Carrie!” Zoe hissed. “Now! Stop thinking!”

Their mother’s eyes went from hers to Zoe’s, then, to hers again . . . and they filled with fear.

She took a step backward. “Carrie—”

“Now!” Zoe screamed.

Carrie’s skin flashed hot then cold. She did as Zoe instructed. She squeezed her eyes closed and fired off two rounds. When she opened her eyes again, her mother was on the floor. She was holding her belly, staring up at them. She made a gurgling sound, then blood trickled out of her mouth and her eyes went still.

Carrie trembled. It had happened so quickly.

She dragged her eyes away and forced air into her lungs. She was going to vomit.

An iciness ran slowly from Carrie’s head to her feet as Zoe shoved her closer to the bathroom. “Hurry, while he’s still in the shower.”

In the middle of the steamy bathroom, Zoe turned Carrie so she was facing the shower.

Carrie listened to the water roar down from the pipes.

“Do it!” Zoe hissed, leaving drops of spit on the side of Carrie’s face.

Carrie’s hands shook so much she wondered if she might drop the gun.

The water suddenly stopped.

“Do it, dammit!” Zoe demanded.

From the other side of the shower curtain: “Julie?”

Carrie looked away as the curtain screamed open. Her brain was trying to tell her something, but at the same time, Zoe was shouting for her to pull the trigger. Unable to think clearly, she looked away and squeezed the trigger twice more, shooting off two more rounds. Just as the gun discharged the second time, she heard Zoe scream, “NO!”

The command baffled her. Plus, she’d already done it.

The man fell toward them, in a tangle of blue plastic shower curtain.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Zoe screamed.

Carrie concentrated on the water bouncing off the tiled floor of the shower and onto the man’s hairy arm. She watched the blood quickly mix with water and swirl past a clump of her mother’s wet hair . . . and down the stainless steel grate.

Zoe kept screaming.

Carrie wished she would stop.

She knew that something more terrible than even what they’d set out to do had happened. Something else that they could never take back. But she didn’t want to know what that was.

After a while, she reluctantly let her eyes crawl to the man’s face, and she screamed, too.

Her father had come home early . . . and now he was tangled in the shower curtain, his lips parted, as though he’d been in the middle of trying to say something before he fell. His beautiful brown eyes were half open, but unfocused.

He was already gone.

Her father, who she loved so much. One of the only people who could make her smile. One of the few who had ever loved her. Feeling as though she’d gutted herself, Carrie let her arm fall limply to her side, and the gun slammed into the top of her foot, its hot barrel scorching her skin. She fell to her butt and backed into a bathroom cabinet and cried, trying not to listen to her sister bellow like a wounded animal a few feet away from her.

After that, Carrie lost all sense of time. At some point, she felt Zoe drag her back to her bedroom closet, where Carrie didn’t move for days—until paramedics carried her out.

CHAPTER 41

ALLIE SAT IN Sammy’s hospital room, feeling nothing but gratitude. She held her son’s small hand as he slept, thankful that he was still with her. They’d given him Flumazenil in the emergency room, an antidote for the Xanax poisoning, and an IV drip . . . and assured her that he would be just fine.

He didn’t seem to remember most of what happened and didn’t appear at all frightened. He just kept telling her that Zoe had given him medicine, then let him have only one gummy worm when she said she’d give him more.

Allie had regained consciousness as they were strapping her to a gurney in the woods. After an initial examination in the emergency room, she had signed a waiver to discontinue treatment so she could be with her son.

Sergeant Davis had called to confirm that her antidepressant had been switched. The doctor on duty had refilled her prescription for her antidepressant and given Allie twice her usual dose. Since it had been several hours since she’d taken the Xanax-filled capsules, she was feeling more clearheaded, less lethargic. The spasms in her brain were also becoming duller and more infrequent.

She was pleasantly surprised to find that her mind hadn’t broken after all, even with the stress and chaos of the last several weeks. The depression and lethargy had just been the result of Zoe switching drugs on her.

Not
a sign of impending mental illness.

Bitty walked into the room. “Detective Lambert just called. He’s on his way.”

“Where are the girls?” Allie asked.

“They’re being held at the juvenile detention center in Tyler.”

“Carrie, too?”

Bitty nodded. “I’m so sorry, Allie. I didn’t know how disturbed Zoe was,” she said, her eyes red and swollen. “Or I never would’ve let her near Sammy. I feel awful.”

Allie didn’t blame Bitty at all. In fact, right now she didn’t blame anyone. She felt no anger or resentment . . . no negative emotion of any kind. She was just grateful that her son was going to be okay.

That her mind was still whole.

That they’d gotten through the nightmare in one piece. “Don’t,” Allie said. “It wasn’t your fault. Neither of us knew. The important thing is that Sammy’s okay. Everything’s okay now. Everything’s okay.”

And she smiled, because for the first time in weeks she actually felt like it would be.

EPILOGUE

Three Weeks Later . . .

THE TRUTH
HAD
set Carrie free . . . in some ways.

The horror of what she’d done still paralyzed her from time to time, and she knew she’d never completely forgive herself, but the guilt, coupled with trying to keep it a secret from everyone, had made it so much worse.

She was so thankful that Zoe had run out of bullets after killing Johnny—and had been forced to resort to the Xanax . . . or things would’ve turned out
much
differently for Sammy. Allie had explained that Zoe had panicked when Sammy found their mother’s cell phone in their closet. She feared that if it were discovered that she had it, they’d know that she’d been the one making the calls after Gary’s calls had ceased. Zoe had made the most recent calls herself so that she could pretend to be frightened, reasoning that if she had good reason to be fearful, Allie would allow her to sleep in her bedroom again.

Carrie knew Zoe would hate her forever for telling the truth—and blame her for just about everything that had happened. But that was okay. Zoe wasn’t the sister Carrie thought she’d been, and Carrie no longer felt the overpowering need to please her.

She’d been shocked when Allie and Bitty first visited. She was stunned that they still wanted anything to do with her. But they said they’d always be there for her, and would be there to help her with whatever she needed when she got out. They’d even brought Sammy once, and his face had provided her some sunshine. In Sammy’s face, she still saw her brother, Joey, who she missed so much.

She was still overcome with grief over what she’d done. And she still missed her father so much. She knew she’d never heal from it all, but she let a tiny part of herself welcome the possibility of feeling better.

She liked her new therapist, and she’d even made friends with her roommate, another twelve-year-old girl. And for the first time she was starting to get to know herself for who she was . . . not for what she was to her sister.

She didn’t know yet what the full extent of her punishment would be and when exactly she’d be moved. She was still being held at the detention center and had already had three detention hearings. Tomorrow she’d have a fourth.

She was told that she would probably be moved to the Texas Youth Commission soon, where she would stay until she was eighteen. After that, her sentence would be transferred to the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, where she’d serve out the rest of the time the judge would render. It was likely she’d get forty years, but would be eligible for parole after twenty.

She was okay with whatever sentence they decided to give her. She knew what she’d done had been unforgivable, and that she needed to pay.

For the first time in her life, she didn’t even know where Zoe was . . . but that was okay, too. She was ready to just concentrate on herself.

The little flame in her that had almost been completely extinguished since she murdered her parents seemed to spark a teeny bit brighter now.

It gave her a little hope.

And a little courage.

Allie sat at the dinner table, watching Sammy as he happily engaged Detective Lambert—who now insisted they call him Adam—and Bitty, excitedly telling them about a new Avengers game he’d seen a trailer for.

Knowing he had no family in town, Bitty had been inviting Adam over for dinner regularly since that dreadful night . . . the night that Allie almost lost everything. Thankfully, though, neither Allie nor Sammy had suffered any long-term effects from the drugging. Just some minor bumps and bruises from the ordeal.

The girls’ bedroom was now empty; so was Carrie’s favorite spot on the couch. It almost seemed as though they’d never even been there.

Because of everything that had happened since the twins’ arrival, Allie had learned that her mind was much stronger than she’d thought. Despite her fears, Allie had let the girls in, and now her world was bigger, broader, richer. She had Carrie and Adam in her life, and she was considering a new career, working with troubled youth. What Carrie and Zoe had gone through had shown her that she hadn’t been the only troubled child to use immature logic to make horrible decisions.

And after visiting the detention center, she’d seen there were many.

Allie’s eyes still stung a little every time she thought about the sentence the girls would get. She still felt an undeniable pull to Carrie and cared for her. It pained her to know she’d be locked up for a good portion of her life. No matter the term rendered, Allie had committed to visiting Carrie on a regular basis, and would do whatever she could to help her, going forward.

Although it had been difficult, she had also forgiven Zoe. As Bitty always said, not forgiving was like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. She forgave, but she would never forget. The one time she visited Zoe to tell her that she forgave her, Zoe had refused to look her in the eye. She looked much different than the tough little girl that Allie had seen when Zoe and her sister first arrived at the house. She was much thinner. More timid and much less sure of herself. Allie hated to see her that way.

She wondered how soon Zoe would get out. Where she would end up. Who she would try to attach herself to next. During the visit, Zoe didn’t even attempt to apologize for what she’d done. Instead, she stood up after only a couple of minutes and, with a staff member’s permission, left the room. Bitty had visited her twice since, and received the same treatment.

Telling Sammy about Johnny had been complete hell. Johnny’s funeral had been even worse. And worse than both were the days that Sammy forgot that death was permanent and asked when his daddy was going to visit again. But in the last two weeks, he hadn’t asked very often.

Bitty had heard that Laura Willis ended up getting the seven hundred thousand dollars that Julie Parish had given Gary. Since there was no reason to believe that Julie hadn’t signed the money over to Gary of her own free will, and it hadn’t been contested, Julie was able to collect it from Gary’s account.

Bitty retreated to the kitchen to brew a pot of decaf coffee to serve with her famous healthy version of Bananas Foster. But before she did so, she winked at Allie, her eyes twinkling.

Bitty adored Adam, and she knew that there was something happening between them, albeit very slowly. Something that might not have developed had Bitty not taken it upon herself to get the two in the same room together as many times as she had.

Sammy took the break as an opportunity to scurry off to get a minifigure from his toy box to show Adam. When they were alone, Adam reached over and laced his fingers through Allie’s, and something deep inside of her stirred. It was the most intimate of their touching so far. Up until this point, there’d only been a touch on the shoulder, the back, the top of her hand . . . or a quick hug.

Adam had been instrumental in saving Sammy’s life . . . which had saved her own. He also spent several hours with them during Sammy’s short hospital stay, constantly making sure they had everything they needed. What’s more, Allie had come to realize that when he was under their roof she felt safer.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his blue eyes piercing hers.

“Pretty well,” she said, and it was the truth. Every day was a little easier, and a little better, than the one before.

Hearing Bitty’s footsteps approach, he gave her hand a quick squeeze, then let it go. A moment later, Bitty came shuffling in with the coffee. Her eyes met Allie’s, and she winked again.

After dessert and coffee, Bitty offered to give Sammy his bath, then read to him. Allie and Adam retreated to the deck, into the chilly night air. After closing the door, he took her hands in his and backed her up against the house. Then he leaned in and kissed her. Gently at first. Then hard.

Her stomach did somersaults.

Weak in the knees, she kissed him back—but a troubling thought kept nudging her. He didn’t know about her past yet—and that concerned her . . . a lot.

He stopped kissing her, then tilted her chin up so he could see her eyes. “How about we take Sammy to the movies tomorrow?” he asked, his breath tickling her ear.

Allie hesitated, knowing that she couldn’t take things with Adam any further without him knowing the truth about her. About her mother, her brother—and the things they’d done.

She didn’t want to live forever afraid he’d find out where she came from. What her family had done. She was tired of hiding.

She took a deep breath and stared into his eyes. “There are things you don’t know about me.”

“And there’re plenty of things you don’t know about me.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “There are things—”

“Are you talking about your family? If so, I know.”

Her breath caught in her throat.
He knew? How—

“I’m a cop, Allie. I did a background check.”

She stared at him, stunned.

“I’m just joking.” His smile was gentle. “Bitty told me. She knew I was interested in you, and she didn’t want to see you hurt, so she wanted me to know before I pursued anything. To see if it would change the way I feel about you.”

Her eyes began to sting. “So you know about my mother?”

“Yes.”

“My brother?”

“That’s affirmative.”

“And . . . you’re still interested?” she asked, her vision clouding.

“More than you know,” he said, embracing her, pressing his strong chest against hers. His warm breath was in her ear. “You can’t help what they did. You’re not them.”

Her pulse quickened. He’d seen her pretty much at her worst, more than once. He knew about her family. And he
still
wanted her? Not only was he gorgeous, he was kind, considerate, solid, and honored his word. And on top of it all, Sammy and Bitty both loved him, and she felt safer when he was around.

How had this even happened to her? How in the world had she gone from living on the streets as an orphan to having such a beautiful life with a loving family, the most amazing son and mother, and the interest of a man like Adam?

He pulled away to look at her. “You’re smart, kind, strong, a great mother . . . not to mention stunning . . . inside and out.” With his finger, he began to trace the scar on her forehead, one she’d suffered from a tree branch during her frantic search for Sammy.

She was amazed when she didn’t feel compelled to shrink away from his touch. After all, the scar was one of her many imperfections. “I would consider myself very lucky to be with you, Allie.”

She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. They held each other a few more moments, Allie savoring his warmth and strong embrace, until they heard Sammy’s high-pitched chatter in the living room. Adam pressed his lips against hers one more time, then released her. Placing his hand lightly on her lower back, he guided her back inside the house.

Later, as she watched his taillights disappear around the corner, she found herself already anticipating when he’d be back.

Once in bed, she lay beside her sleeping son and reflected on the last several weeks. She remembered Bitty’s wise words: Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is.

Well, the wolf wasn’t very big today. In fact, at the moment, she couldn’t even sense his presence.

In the darkness, she smiled, turned over, and closed her eyes.