One Last Scream

Chapter Twenty-four

At Danny’s Diner, the burgers and sandwiches were served in red plastic baskets, lined with paper. Desserts came from a rotating display case near the cash register. The walls were decorated with neon beer signs, mounted fish plaques, and another sign by the counter that said:

Our Credit Manager is HELEN WAITE. If you want to pay on credit…

GO TO HELEN WAITE!

The dinner crowd was dwindling in the cozy, homey little restaurant. Karen noticed a family of four in a booth, an older couple at one of the tables, and two trucker types, both at the counter with a few stools between them.

And Amelia was nowhere to be seen.

The waitress, a chubby blonde with a Farrah Fawcett hairdo left over from the seventies, told Karen she could sit anywhere. So Karen plopped down at a window table and prayed that Amelia just happened to be in the restroom.

She waited three minutes, then got up and checked the ladies’ room. No one.

This was crazy. Amelia had called from here thirty minutes ago. She’d been stranded, without a car. Karen had practically begged her to stay put, too. And now she was gone. How could someone just vanish like that?

But then, that sort of thing had happened a lot, back when Amelia and Annabelle’s father had been alive.

With a nervous sigh, Karen sat back down at the table. She decided to give Amelia three more minutes. Then she’d call her from the phone booth outside. Of course, if Amelia was anywhere in the vicinity, her cell phone wouldn’t work. So it was probably pointless.

Karen glanced at her wristwatch. George would touch down in Seattle in less than an hour. They were counting on Amelia to somehow intercede with her sister.

Had she somehow already met up with Annabelle?

Karen looked out the rain-beaded window. Against the darkness, she saw only her own reflection. She looked haggard and worried. The blond waitress came by for Karen’s drink order. Karen noticed her name tag: YOUR SERVER IS CONNIE.

“Could I have a Diet Coke, please?” Karen said. “Also, Connie, I was supposed to meet someone here. Have you seen a very pretty, 19-year-old girl with shoulder-length black hair? She should have been here about a half hour ago.”

Connie shook her head. “Nope, sorry, I haven’t noticed anyone like that tonight, hon-been here since four. I’ll get your Diet Coke in a jiff.” She sauntered toward the kitchen.

Digging out her cell phone, Karen checked the last caller. She left her trench coat on her chair, then hurried outside. Ducking into the phone booth, she checked the number over the receiver. It was a match. Amelia had been here.

As she stepped out of the booth, Karen saw someone walking along the roadside. Coming from the direction of the lake house, she seemed to emerge from the darkness.

“Amelia?” Karen called to her.

Although it was still drizzling lightly, she dawdled. Her black hair was in wet tangles, and the navy-blue rain jacket was too big on her. The sleeves came down to her fingers. She seemed lost in thought. It was another few moments before she appeared to notice Karen, and then she waved and ran toward her.

“Amelia, what are you doing out here?” Karen asked. “You’ll catch your death.”

She gave Karen a hug. Her cheek felt cold. “I’m sorry. Were you waiting long?”

“Not very,” Karen said. Pulling away, she held her at arm’s length and looked at her. Karen noticed she wasn’t wearing any makeup. “What were you doing, honey? Why didn’t you wait in the diner?”

She let out a long sigh, and tugged at a strand of her hair. “Oh, I decided to walk down to the cabin. But I only got halfway there before I chickened out and turned back. I keep thinking it would be good therapy for me to go there and see it.”

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” Karen replied. “You’d only get upset if you went there now. It would be pointless.” She put an arm around her. “C’mon, let’s get you some coffee, something to warm you up.”

As she ushered her into the restaurant and back toward the window table, Karen heard the blond waitress call out to someone: “Well, hi there, Frenchie!”

The two of them sat down. “We should make our orders to go,” Karen said. “I’d like to get on the road soon….”

“Frenchie?” the waitress chirped again.

Karen looked up and realized she was approaching their table. “Well, Frenchie, aren’t you going to say hi?” the waitress asked.

Karen stared across the table. “Amelia?”

Still tugging at a wet strand of hair, she looked up at the waitress. “Oh, hi…Connie,” she said, obviously reading the name tag.

“When you walked in just now, you acted like you didn’t know me,” the waitress said.

She smiled up at her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m kind of spacey today. How are you?”

“I can’t complain,” the waitress replied. “Who’ll listen?”

“Did you just call her ‘Frenchie’?” Karen asked.

The waitress nodded. “I don’t even have to give this one a menu. She always orders the same thing, the French dip. Every time she comes in here with her folks, she…” The waitress trailed off, and a pained look passed across her face. She shook her head. “Oh, hon, I’m so sorry. All of us here felt terrible when we heard about it….”

“Thanks, Connie,” she murmured, her head down.

“I’ll get your drink order, hon,” Connie said. “The usual? Sprite?”

She nodded. “Thanks very much.” She waited until the waitress retreated toward the kitchen, then she leaned across the table to Karen. “I can tell she’s embarrassed. Could you excuse me for a minute, Karen?”

Getting to her feet, she walked over to the counter. She murmured something to the waitress, who was at the soda machine. Connie put down the glass of soda, then came around the counter and gave her a hug. After a moment, the tall, white-haired cook ambled out from the kitchen and quietly spoke to her, too. He shook her hand, but she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He blushed a bit.

Finally, she came back to the table. “They’re so sweet,” she whispered. “They’re getting our drinks to go, and are refusing to take any money, not even a tip. Listen, I need to use the bathroom, and then we can get going, okay?”

Karen watched her walk toward the restrooms.

Five minutes later, they stepped out of Danny’s Diner, carrying their drinks, along with two pieces of pie that the waitress insisted they have for free.

“God, Karen,” she said, stopping to look back at the tacky, little chalet-style restaurant. She had tears in her eyes. “Aren’t those people nice? It makes me sad to think I’m probably never coming back here.”

Karen just patted her arm, and said nothing.

They headed to the rental car, and Karen unlocked the door for her.

She hesitated before climbing inside. “Karen, I know you’re in a hurry to get to Seattle, and we have a lot to talk about,” she said. “But could we go by the lake house first?”

She grimaced. “Oh, Amelia, like I said, I don’t think you should go in there-”

“Please, Karen, I feel I need to do it for closure. On top of that, there are some things of mine in that house, and I don’t want to have to come back here.” She sighed. “I really don’t think I could go in there on my own, or with anyone else for that matter. You’re the only one. C’mon, it’s just a five-minute drive. Can’t we just do this, and get it over with?

Karen stared at her for a moment, then she took a deep breath and nodded. “All right, Amelia. We’ll swing by, if that’s what you really want. Hurry up, get in.”

She climbed into the passenger seat, and set their drinks in the cup holders.

Karen got behind the wheel, then handed her the carryout bag. Starting up the car, she backed out of the parking space. Karen paused before shifting gears, and turned toward her. “Are you sure you want to go?” she asked. “Honey, you should know, there are still bloodstains. And everything’s covered with dusting powder for fingerprints. It’s not going to be pleasant.”

She nodded glumly. “I figured as much. But I still want to go, Karen. And I want you there with me. Like I said, I need to have closure.”

“Okay,” Karen murmured.

Then she pulled onto the dark, winding road toward the beach house.

The big monster of a door wouldn’t budge.

Amelia had tugged and tugged at the handle, but it was no use. Someone must have jammed the lock on the outside.

Panic-stricken, she couldn’t get a normal breath. And she was shivering in the cold, windowless little room. Amelia kept the itchy blanket wrapped around her. Under that, she still had on her T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms from last night. Her bare feet were freezing and filthy from walking on the dirty concrete floor.

She’d already searched every inch of the place, looking for a wrench, a crowbar, or anything to pry the door open. At the same time, she realized it would probably take a jackhammer to penetrate the damn thing.

During her search, she uncovered a watercolor she’d painted of the lake house back when she was ten. It was pretty god-awful. No wonder the thing had ended up in the fallout shelter behind some boxes. Her parents had framed it, but the glass in the frame was now cracked. Amelia slipped the watercolor out of the frame, and saw a sheet of black cardboard backing it. With that behind the glass, it was almost like a mirror-a cracked mirror.

Amelia looked at her reflection, and the close-shorn haircut someone had given her while she’d slept. She could see the skin irritation around her nose and mouth.

“Why is this happening?” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “Who’s doing this to me?”

Whoever it was, they were probably coming back for her. They’d left her food, a light, and a blanket. They wouldn’t have done that if they weren’t coming back. They wouldn’t have left her anything if they expected her to die in this gloomy little crypt.

Her hands shaking, Amelia slipped a piece of broken glass out of the frame. It was about eight inches long, and very sharp along the edge. If someone did come down here, she would be ready for them.

For some reason, she thought of Karen Carlisle. The last thing Amelia remembered was falling asleep in Karen’s spare bedroom, while Karen sat in that rocker in the corner. Had Karen decided that she was so dangerous she had to be locked up? Had Karen shorn her hair like a convict and then stuck her in this makeshift little prison?

Amelia couldn’t think of any other explanation. Maybe that was why she had this sudden, inexplicable contempt for her therapist and friend. She was as close to Karen as she’d been to the family she’d just lost. Amelia remembered having had this same loathing for her brother, Collin, before his accident, and for her parents and Aunt Ina the night they’d died in this house.

All she could think about was slitting Karen’s throat.

Wrapped up in the blanket, she sat down on the edge of the cot and stared at the jagged piece of glass. She told herself that she could never hurt Karen. Amelia started to cry.

But she didn’t let go of the glass.

She stared at Karen and shook her head. “How could I feel things from this twin I didn’t even know I had?” she asked. “How could I have forgotten all about her?”

Karen took her eyes off the road for a second. “Well, you have to consider, you were four years old when you last saw her.” She searched for the little inlet off Holden Trail, but she couldn’t see much beyond the headlight beams in front of her. It was a treacherous drive at night with no guardrail along the side of the road, nothing to stop the car from tumbling downhill if she overshot her lane.

They were both silent for a moment. The windshield wipers squeaked, and rain tapped on the roof. Karen wasn’t sure what to tell her. There was so much to explain. She’d decided Amelia didn’t need to know about her father just yet. That could wait. But she had to understand what was happening now. It was very likely they’d need her to talk to her twin sister, and reason with her.

“A lot of bad things happened to you, Amelia,” she went on. “I think you made yourself forget most of it. That’s how you were able to survive. But your twin didn’t forget you. She still has you on her frequency. I think she’s had a very hard life, too. You must have experienced some of it secondhand with those phantom pains and the nightmares.”

“So you’re saying this twin sister killed my parents, and Aunt Ina and Collin?” she asked, incredulous. “And I was on her frequency?”

Karen nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry, Amelia. But I think you were picking up those violent sensations and images from her. That’s why you blamed yourself for everything she was doing.”

She shook her head. “I’m still blown away. Why is she doing this?”

Karen sighed. “I don’t know for sure. Obviously, she has a grudge against you or something. Maybe she resents that you’ve ended up having a better life.”

“Or maybe she feels I abandoned her.”

“Well, whatever her reasons are, Amelia, you need to remember it’s not your fault.”

“So her name’s Annabelle,” she murmured. “My God, all this time I thought I had a split personality or something. “

“No, you’ve just been picking up on the things she was doing. You didn’t know it, but you have a window into her world.” Karen saw a turnaround on the left. “Isn’t this it?” she asked.

“Um, yeah,” she said distractedly.

Karen pulled into a small alcove, but she didn’t switch off the ignition. “Listen, before we go down there, I need to ask you again, Amelia. Are you picking up any kind of feeling that something’s wrong at your Uncle George’s house? Do you sense that George, your cousins, or Jessie are in any kind of trouble?”

She looked back at Karen and shook her head. “Why do you keep asking that? Are they in trouble?”

“Your Uncle George is worried, and so am I.” Karen glanced at her wristwatch. George would be landing in Seattle within a half hour.

She turned off the ignition. “Listen, Amelia, on our way back, I want to stop by Danny’s again and phone your uncle. Then I might have you call his house. If Annabelle is there, we’ll need you to talk to her.”

She let out a stunned little laugh. “Karen, I don’t understand any of this. Are you saying my sister’s at Uncle George’s house?”

Karen nodded. “We think it’s possible. Are you sure you’re not sensing something? You’ve always known ahead of time what your sister’s planning. You’re not feeling anything?”

She shook her head. “Nothing about Jody or Steffie. Right now, I just feel this very strong need to go to the lake house. Please, Karen.” She opened the car door. “Don’t worry about the trail at night. Just hold on to my hand. I know it by heart by now.”

Karen got out of the car and paused at the top of the trail. In the darkness, she could barely see the path through the trees and shrubs. But she was thinking about something else that didn’t seem right. She’d figured Amelia would have been far more concerned right now about the safety of her only surviving family members. Instead, she was bent on visiting the lake house one more time for closure. Karen was waiting for George’s plane to land before calling and consulting him on their next move. But Amelia didn’t know any of that. It didn’t make sense that a final trip to the lake house was such a priority.

There had been a moment back at the diner, when she hadn’t recognized the waitress. A tiny alarm had gone off in Karen’s gut, then.

She thought about all the other people Annabelle must have duped before killing them. Did the Faradays, George’s wife, or Shane ever realize before their violent deaths that they were staring at Amelia’s twin?

“C’mon, Karen.” She smiled and held out her hand. “I’ll lead the way.”

Karen hesitated, but then grabbed her hand. Engulfed in darkness, she started to follow her down the trail. She took cautious little steps in the direction she was being pulled. Around her, she heard raindrops pattering on leaves, and branches rustling in the gentle wind.

She thought about her dad’s old revolver in her purse. “Amelia, remember what we were talking about in your last session?” she said, hating the nervous little wiggle that crept into her voice. She cleared her throat. “Um, you were telling me how you really resented Shane sometimes, and for no apparent reason. Remember that?”

She paused. “No, Karen, I don’t. I don’t recall saying anything like that.”

In the dark, Karen couldn’t see her face, or her expression. Did Annabelle know she was being tested again? Or was this Amelia, quite understandably, not remembering a conversation that had never happened?

“Actually, it’s weird you should mention Shane, right after you asked about those premonitions,” she went on. “I can’t help thinking something might have happened to him. And I–I feel I’ve caused it somehow. What do you make of that? Do you suppose I just feel guilty, because I borrowed his car without asking him?” She started moving again, pulling Karen’s hand. “Anyway, I’m worried about him, Karen. He’s not answering his cell, and he hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

Karen could hear the vulnerability in her voice, and it sounded so much like Amelia. She wondered how she was going to tell her that Shane was dead. There was so much Amelia still didn’t know.

Karen continued down the slope with her, blindly following her lead. She could only make out shapes in the murky blackness around her, and every step seemed precarious. She had to put all her trust in her guide.

“Careful, Karen,” she heard her say. Her grip tightened. “It’s a little slippery here. And there’s a big ditch on your right.”

Karen felt the wet ground and gravel under her shoes. She told herself: If this is Annabelle, she could have so easily killed you by now.

“We’re almost there, Karen. Thank you for doing this.” She steered her around a curve in the trail. “So, about Shane, do you think he’s okay? You don’t suppose this-Annabelle-has gotten to him, do you?”

“I–I can’t say for sure,” Karen replied, feeling horrible. She couldn’t tell her the truth right now. It was too much.

“There’s a railing and some flagstones coming up, and then we’re out of the woods.”

With her foot, Karen tapped around the dirt and gravel until she felt the flat flagstones beneath her. She held on to the wooden railing with her free hand. She could now see Amelia’s silhouette and, in front of them, a clearing, and the Faradays’ lake house.

They started up the stone pathway to the house.

The terrain had flattened out, but she still held onto Karen’s hand. “Y’know, when we go back to Danny’s Diner, I’m calling Shane again.” Her voice had a little tremor to it. “And then let’s try to track down this twin sister I didn’t know I had. We need to stop her before she hurts someone else.”

“We will, Amelia,” Karen said.

“My God, look at this,” she muttered, stopping to stare at the front door. The strips of yellow police tape fluttered in the wind.

“Are you sure you want to go in?” Karen asked gently.

“Yes, it’s something I’ve got to do,” she said. Letting go of Karen’s hand, she stepped toward the door. “We keep a key hidden up here.”

Karen watched her reach up and pat along the top of the doorway frame. The sleeve of her oversized rain jacket slipped down her bare arm. Karen saw an ugly scar on the back of her wrist. She stifled a gasp.

Amelia had remembered the pain. But Annabelle still carried the scar.

“Here it is,” she announced, the key in her hand. “I was afraid the police might have found it and taken it.” She brushed aside some of the loose yellow tape, and put the key in the lock. “My, God, it’s not even locked….”

Karen couldn’t move. She just stared at her, and tried to get a breath.

Annabelle opened the door, then turned toward Karen. “Do you want to lead the way this time?”

Karen shook her head. She waited until Annabelle stepped inside the house, then she reached inside her purse for the revolver. She came to the doorway, and saw the 19-year-old standing in the middle of the living room.

“Oh, my God, Karen, look at the blood,” she cried. Annabelle was a very good actress. She recoiled, then opened her bag and frantically dug into it. “God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

Karen already had the revolver out-and pointed at her. “Stop it, Annabelle,” she said.

But Annabelle pulled something out of her purse.

“Hold it right there!” Karen yelled.

Annabelle froze. Karen still couldn’t see what was in her hand.

For a moment, there was dead silence, and then a faint murmuring sound. It came from the basement, and yet seemed so far away, too. “Karen? Is someone there? Karen! Help me!”

Karen recognized Amelia’s voice.

She didn’t see the blackjack in Annabelle’s hand, the same deadly little leather-covered club her father had used on Tracy Atkinson and several others when he’d knocked them unconscious.

All at once, Annabelle swiveled around.

Karen didn’t even realize what was happening. She was still thinking about Amelia, downstairs somewhere. She saw Annabelle swinging her arm toward her. Then she felt the awful pain on the side of her head. She didn’t even have time to raise the gun.

Karen crumpled onto the floor just inches away from the bloodstains left by Ina McMillan.

“Hi, you’ve reached the McMillans,” Ina said on the recording. “Sorry we’re not here to take your call. But if you’d like to leave a message for George, Ina, Jody, or Stephanie, just talk to us after the beep!”

The beep sounded, and then George’s voice came over the answering machine. “Jessie?” he said anxiously. There was a lot of noise in the background-car horns honking, a whistle blowing, and people talking. “Is anyone there? Hello…”

“Let’s keep Daddy in the dark a little longer,” said the young man in the sunglasses. “It just means he’ll be all that more anxious to get here.”

Jessie didn’t say anything. She stared at him with dread. She couldn’t feel her arms anymore, and it was hard to get a normal breath. But she was more worried about the children. She hadn’t heard a peep from Stephanie’s room in almost an hour. Jody had let out a few muffled coughs about ten minutes ago, but not another sound. She wondered if they could hear their father’s voice right now.

“I can’t figure out why you’re not picking up,” George said on the machine. “I’m thinking maybe Steffie had another asthma attack, and you had to go to the hospital. Um, Jessie or Jody, if you get this, call me on my cell as soon as you can. Let me know what’s happening. It’s 9:15, and I’m at the airport. The line for taxicabs is nuts. I’ll try to get there soon. It might take another half hour. Jessie, thanks for waiting around. I know you need to fly out to Denver tonight. You might need some money. I don’t think you know about the safe in the house, but I certainly have more than enough in there to pay for your ticket. When I get home, I’ll make sure you’re covered….”

The young man chuckled. “Jackpot,” he whispered. He snatched the cordless from the counter. “Make him tell you where this safe is, and then get the combination.” He reached for the kitchen phone.

“I think this machine’s about to cut me off,” George was saying. “See you soon-I hope.” He clicked off, and the recording beep sounded.

“Shit,” the young man muttered. He put down the cordless, and hung up the kitchen phone. “Well, we’ll have to call Daddy back in a little while.” He smirked at Jessie. “So, it sounds like you don’t know anything about this safe, huh?”

Wide-eyed, she just shook her head at him.

George clicked off his cell phone. He nodded to the eleven-year-old. “Thanks, Brad,” he said, over all the noise from the cop show on TV. “You can turn that down now.”

He stood in the Reeces’ family room, an open area with a vaulted ceiling right off the kitchen and breakfast nook. He looked out the sliding glass door at the Reeces’ back lawn. Amid the trees and tall hedges at the far end of the yard was a little pathway Brad and Jody used to go back and forth to each other’s houses. George couldn’t see his house from here. The bushes were too tall.

Jody’s best friend since first grade, Brad was a slightly beefy red-haired boy with thick glasses. He wore jeans and a T-shirt advertising My Name Is Earl, his and Jody’s favorite TV show. He had the tough, surly look of a wrestler, but he was very sweet. Lucky, too, it turned out.

George’s helicopter pilot had radioed ahead for a taxi, and a cab had been waiting for him when they’d touched down at Boeing Field. George had tried to phone his neighbor across the street, Sally Bidwell. He’d thought about using her house as a sort of command post and holding area-a safe haven for the kids and Jessie, if he could get them out of the house. But Mrs. Bidwell hadn’t picked up her phone. So George had tried the Reeces, and gotten Brad. His parents had gone out for the night, and he was home alone. In fact, he’d tried calling Jody earlier in the evening to invite him over for pizza, but no one had picked up. He’d thought about cutting through the backyards, knocking on the McMillans’ back door, and inviting Jody in person. But at the very last minute, he’d decided against it. Lucky.

Jody’s friend had certainly come through in a pinch, too. Brad had already scurried around the house and come up with everything George had figured he might need: a crowbar, a screwdriver, and a sharp serrated-edge kitchen knife. The items were laid out on the Reeces’ breakfast table.

George put his cell phone back in the pocket of his sports jacket.

Brad aimed the remote control at the TV and hit mute. “Do you think you ought to put some of that black stuff on your face, too, Mr. M?” he asked.

“That’s not a bad idea, Brad,” he said. “But I think I’m okay without it.”

He glanced over at the mute TV. George wasn’t sure if, over the phone, the cop show had sounded like an airport taxi stand. He wasn’t even sure if his message had gotten through to anyone. He could only hope it had. He hoped his fabrication about a safe full of money in the house would keep whoever was there preoccupied. They’d wait for him now. He’d made it clear that no one else had the combination. And they’d need to keep his children alive if they wanted his cooperation. It might even prompt them to have Jessie phone him back.

He knew Annabelle Schlessinger-or her friend-hadn’t broken into his home for money. But he also knew that a 19-year-old on the lam wasn’t about to pass up the chance for a safeload of cash.

If they thought he was still at the airport, they wouldn’t be expecting him within the next five minutes.

His hand shaking, George slid open the glass door.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with?” Brad asked anxiously.

“No, thanks, I really need you here,” George said. His stomach was full of knots as he collected the crowbar, screwdriver, and knife from the kitchen table. He slipped the knife and screwdriver into the side pocket of his sports jacket. “If I can get Jody, Steffie, and Jessie out of there, I’ll send them over to you, Brad. Then you can call the cops.” He’d already told Brad this, but it merited repeating. “And if in twenty minutes, you don’t see any of us-”

“Then I call the cops, and get them to haul ass over to your place-9203 Larkdale,” Brad interjected.

George nodded, then he mussed Brad’s red hair. “You know, Jody’s very lucky to have you for a friend,” he said. “You and he will be talking about this night for a long time.”

He stepped outside.

“Good luck, Mr. M,” Brad whispered, standing in the doorway.

George gave him a nod, then ran to the hedges bordering the Reeces’ backyard. Weaving through the bushes and trees, he saw the back of his house. It had been nearly twenty hours since he’d left home to catch a flight to Portland and drive to Salem. Now, that seemed like days ago. He was beyond tired, running on his wits and pure adrenaline. And he still couldn’t stop shaking.

He noticed lights were on in the kitchen and living room and master bedroom. The kids’ rooms were dark. George couldn’t see anyone, or anything else. From the edge of the yard, he crept up toward the house, to Jody’s bedroom window. But it was too high to see inside.

Grabbing a plastic patio chair, George pushed it against the side of the house, then he stepped onto the seat. It was a little wobbly, and he clung to the window ledge as he peered into the bedroom. He saw his son in the darkness, curled up on the bed, hog-tied with his hands and feet behind him. Duct tape covered his mouth. His eyes were closed. George was overwhelmed with rage and frustration. But at least Jody was breathing.

Two windows down, he looked in on Stephanie, tied up on her bed in the same fashion, like a little animal. She was trembling. He could see the tears on her cheeks. The piece of duct tape over her mouth seemed too big for her little face.

He kept telling himself, at least they’re alive.

Their backyard sloped a bit, and the kitchen was closer to ground level. George didn’t need the patio chair to look inside the window. He heard the TV going, a small portable they kept at the end of the kitchen counter. Suddenly, someone walked right past the window, and George quickly ducked down. He waited a moment, then straightened up and peeked over the window ledge.

The intruder in his kitchen was a young man with pale skin and very black hair. He wore sunglasses and a black suit. He’d probably seen Reservoir Dogs one too many times. He looked like a cocky son of a bitch. He turned down the TV and said something to Jessie.

George could see her, tied to a kitchen chair. At least she didn’t have any tape over her mouth.

The creep in the sunglasses grabbed the cordless phone from the kitchen counter. It looked like there was a gun on the counter, too, but George wasn’t sure. Beyond the kitchen, he had a glimpse into the living room, where someone was sprawled facedown on the blood-soaked sofa. It looked like his neighbor, Mrs. Bidwell.

“Oh, my God,” George murmured, horrified.

The young man picked up the receiver from the kitchen wall phone, and started dialing. He held the phone to Jessie’s face, and then he switched on the cordless from the study so he could listen in.

All at once, George’s cell phone went off.

“Shit!” he muttered, ducking down again. He quickly dug the cell phone out of his jacket pocket and switched it off. Crouched down against the house, he gazed at a patch of lawn illuminated by the light pouring out the kitchen window. He watched a shadow looming in that silhouette. He knew the young man was standing at the window directly above him, looking out. For a few seconds, George didn’t move. Finally, the shadow moved away. “Couldn’t have been anything,” he heard the young man say. “You sure you don’t know where this safe is? I’ve just about turned the master bedroom upside down.”

George dared to peek over the window ledge again. Jessie was shaking her head. “You heard him on the phone earlier. I don’t know a thing about it.”

“It’s screwy he’s not answering his cell,” the guy muttered. Then he said something else, but he moved too far away from the window for George to hear.

George glanced at the patio chair that he’d left beneath Stephanie’s bedroom window. He decided to try getting Jody out first. Jody would be faster, and less panicked than Steffie.

Crouched against the house, George caught his breath. He’d expected to see someone looking exactly like Amelia in there. But it appeared as if the man in the sunglasses was running the show by himself.

George wondered where Annabelle Schlessinger was.

Her head throbbing, Karen regained consciousness. She lay facedown on the dirty living room floor of the Faradays’ beach house. Her hands were tied behind her with some kind of cord. She could still hear Amelia’s muffled cries for help coming from the basement. But she didn’t hear the rain anymore. Karen wondered how much time had gone by.

A shadow passed over her, and she squinted up at Annabelle. Karen almost didn’t recognize her. Her hair was cut in a short shag style. She’d also changed into a black sweater and jeans. In her hand she held the revolver that had belonged to Karen’s father.

Karen realized she must have been unconscious for at least a half hour. Annabelle couldn’t have cut her hair and changed clothes in much less time than that. Thirty minutes. George was already at his house by now.

“Is Blade here?” Karen asked warily.

A tiny smile flickered across Annabelle’s face. “You know about Blade? Well, I’m impressed.” She shook her head. “No, Blade’s in Seattle, running an errand for me. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s finished and on his way here now.”

Karen was thinking of George, Jessie, and the children. They could already be dead right now. Tears welled up in her eyes. Then she heard Amelia’s muted cries again.

“Where have you got her?” she asked. “In the basement? Do they-do they have a storage room down there?”

“They have a fallout shelter,” Annabelle replied, still standing over her.

Karen shuddered. George had told her about his discovery in the fallout shelter at the Schlessinger ranch. “I’d have thought you wouldn’t want to be anything like your father,” Karen muttered, her face still against the carpet. “And here you are, Annabelle, following in his footsteps.”

“Not exactly,” she replied. “I have no intention of killing Amelia. I don’t want that at all. But my sister will learn what it’s like to be abandoned and totally alone. She has that coming to her.”

Karen suddenly felt Annabelle’s foot on her neck. Some dirt from Annabelle’s shoe trickled into her ear. Annabelle started to apply a bit of pressure on her neck and the side of her face. “In just a little while, Amelia will have no friends or family left,” she said. “You see, Blade’s been at Uncle George’s house. So Amelia’s uncle, her little cousins, and your maid too, I’m afraid, they’re all-poof, gone. You’re going to be on the casualty list, too, Karen, very soon. Then Amelia will have no one, except me-the sister she forgot she had. But you know something, Karen? I’ll forgive her for deserting me. I’ll stick by her, the way she should have stuck by me.”

“For God’s sake, how could Amelia have stuck by you?” Karen countered. She felt even more weight pressing against her neck. “Your parents gave her up. They sent her away.”

“Yes, but she didn’t have to fucking forget me,” Annabelle shot back.

Karen felt more weight pressing against her neck. She could hardly breathe.

“We could have still been there for each other,” Annabelle said. “We were for a little while, after they put her in foster care. I could still sense what she was going through, and I knew she picked up on my feelings, too. We might not have talked, or seen each other. But we still shared. I didn’t feel so alone-until her life got better. Then she turned her back on me, Karen. It was like screaming in one end of a phone, with no one listening. I knew she was there, but she cut me out of her life. All I could offer Amelia was pain, so she decided to forget about me.”

“What would you have done if you were her?” Karen asked, barely able to get the words out. “Can you really blame her?”

To her amazement, the pressure on the side of her neck and face eased up. Annabelle stepped back. “Go ahead, I’m listening,” she said.

Karen swallowed hard and caught her breath. “Amelia was four years old at the time,” she said. “She didn’t make a conscious decision to forget you, Annabelle. She was just trying to survive. Didn’t you do some pretty awful things to survive, yourself?”

Annabelle stared down at her for a moment. “Well, thank you, Karen,” she said finally, with a trace of condescension. “Knowing that makes it easier for me to forgive Amelia. After tonight, the police will be looking for her. Me, too, I guess, since I have her face. I’ve already cut her hair.” She patted her own new, short hairstyle. “Like it? I bought us some coloring, too, Auburn Sunset, it’s called. Blade got Amelia and me fake ID’s, too. I posed for both of us in a wig. Blade thinks he’s running away with us, but I’m leaving him behind. It’s going to be just Amelia and me, the way it always should have been.” She let out a sigh. “You know, my parents used to tell people they’d sent Amelia to live with relatives in Winnipeg. Isn’t that funny? Because I think Amelia and I will end up in Canada someplace.”

Karen rolled over on her side, and stared up at her. “Your plan is flawed, Annabelle,” she said carefully. “You know that, don’t you? Amelia will never get over this…genocide of her adopted family and friends. She won’t forgive you for it. She’ll never understand.”

“That’s why I need you to talk to her for me, Karen. You’ll make her understand.”

Annabelle grabbed her arm, almost breaking it as she pulled her up to a standing position. Karen tried to keep from stumbling. She was dizzy, and her head ached.

“One last counseling session,” Annabelle said. “You’ve done family counseling before, I’m sure. It’s all about understanding, forgiveness, and moving on.”

Pressing the gun to Karen’s back, Annabelle prodded her into the kitchen, and then to the basement door.

With the screwdriver, George pried off the bedroom window screen. He stepped down from the patio seat, and carefully set the screen against the house. Then he grabbed the crowbar, and boosted himself back up again. The window wasn’t locked, but he still had to prod the crowbar along the sill to get the damn thing to move. It resisted, making a loud creaking sound.

Jody suddenly squirmed on the bed and rolled over on his side. His eyes lit up when he saw his father. But George couldn’t help worrying. That little bit of noise could have given him away. Any minute now, he expected Annabelle’s friend to appear in Jody’s doorway with a gun in his hand. He’d just seen what that lowlife had done to Mrs. Bidwell.

His heart racing, George worked quickly. He pulled the window open, stopping only for a moment as it squeaked again. The patio chair beneath him moved, and he almost lost his balance. Grabbing hold of the ledge, George pulled himself up. He climbed through the opening, then into Jody’s bedroom. He could hear the TV more clearly now. And he could hear Jessie, too.

“Would it kill you to go in there and take the tape off their mouths for just a few minutes?” she was saying. “Lord, it’s been over two hours….”

“Get off my fucking back,” the man retorted. “Want to join your friend over there on the couch? Now, you need to give their daddy another call, and find out where this safe is…”

George crept to Jody’s bed. He leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Don’t make a sound, okay?” He carefully peeled the tape off his son’s mouth. Jody gasped, then took several deep breaths.

Taking the kitchen knife, George cut at the tape around his wrists and ankles. With his shaky hands, he was so afraid he might nick him, but he didn’t. Once free, Jody threw his arms around him. George could feel that he’d sweated through his shirt.

He whispered in Jody’s ear again. “I want you to jump out the window and run to Brad’s house. He’s waiting for you.”

Jody shook his head. “I’m not leaving you guys….” Heclimbed off the bed. But his legs must have fallen asleep, because they suddenly buckled underneath him. George caught him before he tripped, and then he helped his son to the window. “I’ll be okay, Dad,” Jody whispered. But he still leaned on him. “Don’t ask me to run out on you guys. I want to help….”

George hesitated. “All right, you wait outside here. I’ll lower Steffie down to you in a few minutes. Then take her to Brad’s. I’ll get Jessie out, and we’ll meet you there. Understand?”

Jody nodded. “I love you, Dad.”

Giving him a kiss on the forehead, George helped him out the window, and then down to the patio chair. From there, Jody hopped to the ground. But his legs gave out on him again, and he stumbled, like a paratrooper landing. Jody seemed to roll with it. He quickly pulled himself up and nodded at his father again.

Moving to the bedroom door, George peeked toward the kitchen. The young man stood in front of Jessie, holding both phones again, one to his own ear, one to Jessie’s. “George, this is Jessie,” she was saying into the kitchen extension. “Are you there? Pick up…”

George darted down the hall to Stephanie’s room. He saw that she’d wet herself, and it incensed him. He just wanted to kill that smug bastard for doing this to his children. He took a few breaths, then moved toward Steffie’s bed. She seemed to be sleeping.

As George started to bend over her, Stephanie suddenly gaped up at him and tried to cry out. “Quiet, sweetie,” he whispered in her ear. “Please, hush. I’m going to cut you loose and take you into Jody’s room. But you mustn’t make a sound.”

George paused for a moment. Jessie had stopped talking. He heard footsteps. The young man was coming toward the children’s bedrooms.

Creeping back to Stephanie’s door, George stood with his back to the wall. He had the knife ready.

It sounded like the man had stepped into Jody’s room, but George wasn’t sure. He glanced over at Stephanie and put his finger over his lips.

Wide-eyed, she stared at him and suddenly became very still. Then a shadow swept over her. She knew enough to look away from her father-and at the man standing in her doorway.

George remained perfectly still.

The shadow moved away, and the footsteps retreated. The young man was headed toward the living room now. George heard a click, like a door opening or closing.

He hurried back to Stephanie. He gingerly cut the tape around her little wrists and ankles, and then lifted her off the bed. It seemed cruel, but he kept the tape over her mouth for now. He couldn’t risk her crying out again as he smuggled her into Jody’s room. Carrying her out to the hallway, he stroked her hair.

He didn’t hear anyone talking in the kitchen. Peering around the corner, he saw only Jessie. Tied to the kitchen chair, she struggled with the tape binding her wrists in back of her, but to no avail. George wondered where the hell the man with the sunglasses had gone.

Ducking into Jody’s room, he carried Steffie to the window. He looked outside, and his heart sank. Jody wasn’t there.

Whimpering, Stephanie clung to him. He couldn’t drop her out the window. It was too high for her, and she was terrified.

Suddenly, the kitchen door slammed.

George swiveled around. He skulked back to Jody’s bedroom doorway and glanced toward the kitchen again. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. It was as if someone had just punched him in the gut.

He saw the young man holding Jody up by his back collar. Blood trickled from a gash on the corner of Jody’s forehead. He seemed dazed, barely able to stand. The young man pressed a gun to his ear.

George was paralyzed.

Even with those dark glasses on, it was obvious the man was staring right at him. “Hi, Daddy,” he said. “Look who was trying to run away. I think I heard his skull crack when I hit the little bastard.” He smirked. “So, do I get a reward for finding him?”

A flat-edged shovel was wedged under the handle of the fallout shelter door.

That big, heavy door muffled Amelia’s voice. “Who’s out there? Karen? Please, somebody…”

With her hands tied behind her, Karen stood in the Faradays’ cold, clammy cellar. Among the clutter, there was a washer and dryer pushed against the wall, a bicycle, and some boating equipment. Karen noticed a drain in the middle of the concrete floor, and cobwebs on the exposed pipes running along the low ceiling.

Annabelle kicked the shovel aside, and it hit the floor with a loud clang. On the other side of the door, Amelia suddenly fell silent.

Karen felt woozy from the blow to her head earlier, but she fought the nausea and dizziness. She furtively pulled at the cord around her wrists while Annabelle was busy with the door. The hinges groaned as she opened it.

Amelia stood by a cot in the grimy little room. Her hair had been cut in a short shag style identical to her sister’s. Despite the blanket wrapped around her, she was trembling. She wore the same T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms she’d had on last night. In her hand, she held a jagged piece of glass. Dumbstruck, she stared at Annabelle.

For a moment, neither one said a thing.

“Are you going to pretend you don’t know me?” Annabelle asked finally.

Amelia slowly shook her head. Clearly, she couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing. She didn’t move.

Karen kept tugging at the cord around her wrists. The skin there started to chafe and burn.

“Tell her who I am, Karen!” Annabelle barked. She suddenly grabbed Karen’s arm and jerked her forward.

“Amelia…. honey, this is your twin sister, Annabelle,” she said carefully. “You haven’t seen her since you were four, not since before the Faradays adopted you. Do you-do you recall telling me that you often talked into the mirror when you were a little girl? You-”

“You have to remember me,” Annabelle cut in, her voice choked with emotion. “Just look at me, Amelia. I’m your sister, your real sister. Those others, they weren’t your real family.”

Amelia stared at her. “My God, you killed them, didn’t you?” she whispered.

Annabelle let go of Karen’s arm. “I did it to bring us closer together,” she said. “You needed to feel what it’s like to have absolutely no one. That’s what happened to me after you left, after you forgot about me. You need to feel that firsthand, so we can be the same again.”

Karen edged back from her again. She kept pulling at the binding around her wrists. She felt it loosening.

“You killed my parents,” Amelia whispered, squinting at her twin, “and Collin and Aunt Ina….” She still had the piece of glass in her shaky grasp, as if ready to strike. “I felt it when you killed them. I thought it was me….”

“I’m closer to you than any of them ever were,” Annabelle said. “And we can be sisters again, Amelia. We’ll be there for each other. You really don’t have a choice. There’s no one left.”

“My God,” Amelia whispered, tears in her eyes. “You shot Shane, too. In a boat. I saw it. I thought it was a nightmare. Oh, Jesus, he’s dead, isn’t he?”

Annabelle nodded. “I had to. It makes us closer. My boyfriend will die tonight, too. It’s one more thing we’ll share. We don’t need them if we have each other. Don’t you see?”

Suddenly, she grabbed Karen again, and yanked her toward the fallout shelter doorway. Karen stumbled onto the dirty, concrete floor. Annabelle pulled her up by her hair.

“Stop that!” Amelia cried. “Stop hurting her!”

“Karen, make her understand!”

Trembling, she knelt in the doorway. She frantically tugged at the cord around her wrist. She could almost squeeze her hand past the knot. “Your sister wants you to start someplace new with her. She killed that police detective. The police think you did it. They’ll probably blame you for my death, too. Annabelle’s making it so you have no one else to turn to except her.”

Annabelle rolled back her sleeve and pressed the revolver to Karen’s head. “And I’ll look after you, Amelia, I promise,” she said. “I’ve forgiven you for turning your back on me. You’ll forgive me, too. You’ll have to. I’m the only family or friend you have left.”

Tears streaming down her face, Amelia stared at her twin sister. “That mark on the back of your wrist,” she murmured. “I felt it when that happened. Someone burned you….”

“Our father put a lit cigar out on me. You felt it, too?”

Amelia nodded.

“See?” Annabelle said, with a tiny smile. “We feel each other’s pain.”

Karen tried not to squirm as the cord scraped a layer of skin off her knuckles. Still, at last her hands were free. But she kept both hands clasped in back of her. The cord dangled off one wrist.

“Please, Annabelle, put the gun down,” Amelia said, finally. “You don’t have to do this. Let her go. Karen’s my friend.”

“I know she’s your friend,” Annabelle whispered, nodding. “That’s exactly why she has to die.”

“Wait. Look at me,” Amelia said, imploring her. “Do you really feel what I’m feeling right now?”

Annabelle nodded.

“Okay,” she said. Then she slashed the piece of glass across her own hand.

Annabelle let out a shriek. The gun flew out of her grasp.

It happened so fast, Karen wasn’t sure if Annabelle had dropped the gun in a moment of panic or if she had actually felt the glass, too. Karen only knew that the revolver dropped on the floor right in front of her. She dove on it.

All at once, Annabelle was on top of her, frantically clawing at her, struggling to retrieve the weapon. Karen fought back. She wouldn’t let go of the revolver. With her elbow, she smacked Annabelle on the side of her head, but the young woman was relentless. She tugged at the revolver and scratched at Karen’s hands. Suddenly the gun went off.

An earsplitting shot echoed in the tiny gray room.

Jody went limp and fell to the kitchen floor at the man’s feet.

George quickly put Stephanie down and started toward his son.

“No way!” the man said in a loud voice, glaring at him from behind the dark glasses. He had his.45 trained on Jody’s crumpled body. “First you show me the safe, then you can tend to the kiddies.”

Crouching down, George carefully pried the duct tape from Stephanie’s mouth. He watched her eyes tear up with the pain. Once he pulled the tape off, she gasped for air, and then started crying. She threw her arms around his neck. “Daddy, Daddy…” was all she could say.

The young man grabbed Jody by the collar, then dragged him across the kitchen floor as if he were a bag of laundry. Then he dumped him at Jessie’s feet. George could see Jody was still breathing. But he was afraid his son might have a concussion.

“We need to get him to a doctor,” Jessie said.

“Shut the fuck up!” the man snapped. He turned to George, and pointed the gun at him. “I want to see where this safe is,” he said. “C’mon, show me, and bring the little brat with you.”

“It’s in the living room,” George lied. He took one more look at Jody, still breathing, but not moving a muscle. The blood from the gash on his forehead had trickled down to his jaw.

“Where in the living room?” the man pressed. “I’ve been all over this dump.”

“Around this corner,” George said, shielding Stephanie’s eyes from the sight of Mrs. Bidwell’s corpse on the sofa. Steffie cried softly. Her whole body was trembling. George patted her on the back. “When I say go, run as fast as you can out the front door,” he whispered. “When I say go. Okay, honey?”

She sniffed, then nodded her head.

“Good girl,” George said under his breath.

“So where is it, man?”

George nodded to an antique oval mirror on the living room wall. It was 24 by 18 inches, with a very ornate, pounded-tin frame.

“The mirror?” the young man said. “Shit, I already looked behind there, asshole.”

“Well, then you weren’t looking very carefully,” George replied.

“Show me.”

George patted Steffie on the back again. “I need to put you down for a minute, sweetie,” he said, setting her on her feet. “Be a good girl, and remember what I told you.”

Stephanie clung to his leg.

Swallowing hard, George reached for the mirror on the wall. “The money’s not in the wall, it’s in the back of the mirror,” he lied. He glanced back at the man with the sunglasses, and then lifted the mirror off the wall. It was lighter than it looked, only a few pounds. “There’s about six thousand dollars back here, sort of an emergency fund. It’s yours. Just take it and go. Do you hear me? Just go!”

All at once, Stephanie scurried toward the front door.

The young man turned his gun on her.

He didn’t see that behind the mirror frame, there was nothing. He didn’t see George swinging the mirror at him with all his might.

A shot rang out. The young man howled in pain as George hit him in the face with the mirror. There was an explosion of glass.

Squeezing his eyes shut, George turned his head away for a second.

When he opened his eyes again, Stephanie was gone, and the front door was open. The.45 lay on the carpet amid shards of reflective glass.

In a stupor, the young man stared at George. His sunglasses had been knocked off his face. His eyes were listless. Blood dripped from several little bits of broken mirrored glass embedded in his face. One large piece was stuck in his neck. In a daze, he pried it out. Blood gushed from the fatal wound, cascading down the front of his white shirt, tie, and the shiny black jacket.

He remained standing, looking stunned.

George heard the sirens from police cars coming up the street. He realized Jody’s friend, Brad, must have called the police. The searchlights and beams from the red strobes poured through the windows. For a few seconds, the same light danced off the mirrored fragments in the young man’s face.

Then he collapsed dead on the floor.

Through the sheer window curtains, George could see four police cars pulling in front of the house. One policeman ran across the yard and scooped up Stephanie.

George started toward the kitchen, and stopped dead.

His forehead still bleeding, Jody stood near the kitchen counter with a tired smile on his face. He staggered toward his father, and threw his arms around him.

Dazed, George embraced his son. He glanced over at Jessie, a bit unsteady on her feet, slowly making her way into the living room. George realized Jody must have untied her. He kissed the top of Jody’s head. “God, you-you sure had me fooled,” he murmured. “I thought you were practically dead.”

“Me, too,” Jody said, with a weak laugh.

“We still need to get you to a doctor,” George said. With an arm around his son, George dug the cell phone out of his pocket. He checked for messages. There were two Jessie had left on the home phone and two more from that sheriff in Salem. No one else.

“Are you calling Karen?” Jessie asked.

He nodded. “It’s been nearly two hours.”

It rang and rang. No one picked up. It didn’t even go to her voice mail.

Jessie gave him an apprehensive look. He just shook his head at her.

When he’d last talked to Karen, she’d been on her way to meet Amelia at the restaurant near the lake house.

George stayed on the line. He didn’t want to hang up just yet, not even as the three of them started toward the front door.

Jessie paused for a moment and looked down at something on the carpet amid the mirrored fragments. Frowning, she kicked it out of her way and then moved on.

The bent, broken sunglasses skittered across the floor.