“What is the lawyer saying?” my dad mutters. “Do they have enough to keep him?”
Ashley sounds defeated. “There’s no use. The DNA under Bailey’s fingernails was a partial match to Andrew’s.”
The blood in my body drains to my feet for the second time that day.
“DNA?” My father’s voice is a controlled shout. “Why the hell do they have his DNA, Ashley?”
“Because he offered it to them,” Ashley shouts. “He’s an adult, goddamn it. I trusted him when he said it would rule him out.”
I stick my head in the doorway. “Does it mean he did it?”
“No—not necessarily. It means he had contact with her before she died, though,” Ashley says.
“Ashley, should you be speaking like this in front—”
“In front of who, Russ?”
“My daughter, goddamn it.”
My dad pinches the area between his nose and shakes. A silent sob.
Ashley doesn’t go to him. I can’t, either, even though he called me his daughter.
My father wipes the area under his eyes. “I’ll stay with Andrew. Get some sleep, Ash.”
When we hear the click of the front door shutting, Ashley collapses onto one of the island stools.
I still feel like I owe my family fucking everything, but I can’t keep my mouth shut anymore. Not for Jade, who said she’d never forgive me—but for Bailey, who no matter what kind of shit she pulled behind my back, is dead and doesn’t deserve to be.
“One of your knives is missing,” I tell Ashley. “I noticed this morning.”
She picks her head up from her hands. “What?”
“One of the nice ones. The big chef’s one. I looked everywhere.”
Ashley re-covers her face with her hands. “Oh God. Oh God.”
There’s a sharp pang in my chest. This is real. He did this. Why did he do this?
“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Ashley says, pulling me back down from my thoughts.
I don’t know what else to do, so I fill Ashley’s travel mug with coffee while she calls Mrs. Lao.
“Mrs. Lao says she’ll keep an eye on the house,” Ashley says. “Are you sure you and Lauren will be okay?”
I nod, the ache in my throat creeping down my neck. “You should be there.”
When she’s gone, it’s quiet. I lie on the couch, letting the sobs move to my toes. Bailey is dead. Jade is a liar. Andrew is a killer.
A shadow moves over the couch behind me.
I turn to see Lauren in the doorway. She cocks her head at me. “Kacey?”
“Yeah, Monkey?”
“Is Andrew arrested?”
“Probably,” I answer.
“Why?” she asks.
“They have his DNA. It matches some they found…on Bailey.”
Lauren starts to cry, heavy, ugly sobs. I swing my legs over the side of the couch. Sit up and look at Lauren. Her face is red and splotchy. Twisted with fear.
“What if the DNA came from someone else?” Lauren sniffs. “Could they prove it?”
My head is swimming. Why would Lauren ask something like that?
Something Ashley said burrows into my brain. The DNA was a partial match. Meaning, there’s a chance the DNA on the body wasn’t Andrew’s.
It was just similar to his DNA. I suck in a breath. Fuck.
“Lauren.” My feet are frozen to the floor; I can’t turn to meet my sister’s eyes. When I force my body to face hers, her face is bunched up and red, like a newborn’s. I swallow. “Lauren, why are you crying?”
“Because—Andrew—killed—Bailey—”
My thoughts swarm; I think of the texts Burke showed me.
I don’t want to wake my fam up.
“No, he didn’t.”
I’ve never seen Andrew abbreviate family like that. It’s such a small detail that Bailey wouldn’t have noticed the difference. She’d never notice that she wasn’t texting Andrew.
“You took Andrew’s phone.” As I say it out loud I know it’s true. “He must have left it behind, like he’s always doing—you took his phone and pretended to be him to get her to meet you.”
Lauren shakes her head, her wails reaching a crescendo. “No, no, no.”
“Why did you do it?” My heart is racing. My head is going to explode from trying to piece everything together. Make sense of this.
“She said I had to,” Lauren cries.
I launch myself off the couch and rush over to Lauren. “Who is she? Jade?”
My sister stares at me. Eyes wide. “No. The Red Woman did.”
I grab her by the wrists. “What the hell are you talking about?” Lauren wriggles away from me, letting out a primal scream.
“You don’t understand. I had to do it. She told me I had to do it.”
“Lauren.” I look her in the eyes, evenly, even though my whole body is quaking. “Did you kill Bailey?”
My sister lets out another wail. Balls her hands into fists and beats them against her head.
“Lauren, stop.” I get hold of one of her arms. She throws me off her; something pops under my collarbone. In the split second I take to wince and roll my shoulder, Lauren tears away from me. She’s across the living room and unbolting the front door.
I run after her, holding the wall so I don’t slip on the hardwood. Lauren is already running down the steps. I scream for her to stop, but my voice gets lost in the wind. Snow and ice pelt my face; I’m in my socks, still.
My toes go numb—Lauren’s running around the side of the house, toward the woods. Sparrow Hill. If she tries to run across the street in these conditions, any drivers coming down the hill won’t be able to stop in time.
“Lauren,” I shriek. “Stop.”
She halts at the edge of the road. She turns and looks at me as a car whizzes past, lifting her hair, like a veil, off her back. I kick off the snow and reach her in three steps. When I grab her, she starts to thrash and shriek again.
“Just let me die too.” Her voice is guttural, as if an entity has taken possession of her body. I wrap my arms around her and squeeze. I pull her down to the ground, use my knees to pin her so she can’t get away. My tears drop onto Lauren’s face. “What did you do?”
She doesn’t answer. She continues to shriek and sob as I dial 911 and tell them to send help to Sparrow Road as soon as possible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
My toes are on fire. I’m on the living room couch, knees pulled to my chest. One of the EMTs keeps asking if I can wiggle my toes.
“The poor kid’s in shock,” Sheriff Moser says. “Get another blanket, would ya?”
When the EMT disappears, I look up at Moser. “She said—she asked me to let her die. I need to be with her.”
“They’re sedating her, I’m sure,” Moser says. “Your parents are already on their way to the hospital. Is there someone I can call for you?”
“Um, Ashley has a sister. Andrew and Lauren’s aunt.” There’s a fuzzy feeling in my head. Outside the bay window, lights flash red and blue, bouncing off the snow and onto the living room walls.
The EMT returns with a bulky brown blanket. Drapes it across my shoulders as Moser tells the deputy standing in the corner of the room to see about that aunt of mine.
Not mine, I want to yell. Can’t you see that I have no one?