One Last Scream (21 page)

“Of course, Karen,” he replied. “And phone me tonight if anything happens. Even if it’s just that you’re scared and can’t sleep. I want you to call me, okay?”

She smiled. “Okay, George. Thank you.”

Karen stirred the ingredients from four sleeping capsules into the chocolate sauce as she heated it over the stove. The diazepam she’d given Amelia last week had calmed her a bit, but hadn’t made her sleep. And Karen needed to make sure Amelia was conked out tonight.

Rufus sat at her feet, watching her every move. He always did that while she was cooking in case she accidentally dropped a piece of food.

Amelia was upstairs, changing into her pajamas. She and Shane had watched
The 400 Blows
and then eaten dinner at My Brother’s Pizza. Before calling them, Karen had left a message with Dr. Danielle Richards, the most qualified psychologist on her contact list. Dr. Richards had called back, and agreed to meet with Amelia in the morning.

Shane had dropped Amelia off at 9:20. By then, Karen had already showered, changed the sheets in the guest room, and taken Rufus for a quick walk. After what had happened in Cougar Mountain Park, she’d decided to tuck her father’s gun in her coat pocket for the short trip down the block and back. She wished she’d had it with her during that hike in the forest.

Amelia let out a gasp when she saw the scratch marks on Karen’s face and hands. Karen reassured her that she was all right. She told her what had happened in the woods, focusing on the fact that there was no actual corpse, and no reason to go to the police just yet.

At the same time, she wondered out loud about the man who had chased her through the forest. Did Amelia know someone who could have done that? It couldn’t have been Shane. Did she have any other male friends, maybe someone Shane didn’t know about?

Amelia couldn’t think of anyone. She became more upset the more Karen pressed the issue, and finally Karen just dropped it. She suggested Amelia change into her pajamas, and they could watch a movie on TV.

That had been about fifteen minutes ago.

She could hear Amelia coming down the stairs now. The crystals from the sleeping pill capsules still showed up in the chocolate sauce. Karen turned up the burner, and rapidly stirred the concoction. Then she went to the refrigerator freezer for the ice cream.

Amelia stepped into the kitchen. Her hair was pinned up; and she wore an oversized pink T-shirt, flannel pajama bottoms, and thick gray socks. She sat down at the kitchen table. Rufus strolled over to her and put his head in her lap.

“I’m making sundaes,” Karen announced.

Scratching Rufus behind the ears, Amelia sighed. “Oh, I think I’ll pass. I’ve had a nervous stomach ever since this afternoon. Thanks, anyway.”

Standing by the stove, Karen turned to gaze at her. “But I heated up the chocolate sauce just for you,” she said. She tested the sauce with a little dab from her spoon. It didn’t have any detectable foreign taste. “Hmm, it’s good stuff too. And I know you like chocolate. C’mon, one scoop won’t kill you.” She prepared Amelia’s dish, dousing the ice cream with chocolate sauce. Then she set it on the table in front of Amelia.

Perking up, Rufus showed more interest in the dessert than Amelia did. Karen dished out a scoop of ice cream for herself, and brought it over to the table. She sat down. “Go ahead, dig in,” she urged her.

Amelia gazed at Karen’s bowl and frowned. “Why aren’t you having any chocolate on yours?”

“Because chocolate goes right from my lips to my hips. It’s bad enough I’m having this ice cream.” With her spoon, she pointed to the bowl in front of Amelia. “C’mon, don’t let me be the only one pigging out here. Have some.”

Amelia sighed. “I’m sorry, Karen. I don’t want it.”

“Well, can I—can I fix you something else?” She put down her spoon. “I have the sauce right there. How about some hot chocolate?”

“No, thanks.” Amelia stared down at Rufus, and patted his head. “God, I’m so screwed up. You know, for a while, you had me convinced I couldn’t have hurt my parents and Ina. And for the last few months, I actually thought I didn’t have anything to do with Collin’s death. But now, with this Koehler business, it brings everything back again. And the weirdest part about it is, I still don’t really
remember
him. It’s more like I
dreamt
about him or something. And I still feel like I was in Port Angeles yesterday. Talk about fouled up.”

“Remember our first session?” Karen asked. “You told me about your blackouts and that time Shane saw you in a car with some other man. Shane confronted you pretty much the same way I asked you about Koehler. I started to describe him, and then you remembered.”

Amelia nodded.

“Do you recall who Shane saw you with? Can you describe him to me now?”

She grimaced. “God, I’ve been trying to forget him. I don’t like thinking about that time.”

“Please, it’s important,” Karen said.

“His name’s Blade,” Amelia muttered, absently gazing down at the glass tabletop. “At least that’s what he calls himself. He’s twenty-five. His hair’s cut short with little bangs and he’s dyed it jet-black. He wears sunglasses a lot, even at night, sometimes.”

“Then you still know him?” Karen asked.

Amelia looked up at her. “Still know who?”

“Blade.” Karen let out an exasperated little laugh. “The man Shane saw you with in the car that time. You were talking like you still know him.”

“Well, I don’t—”

“Is he a friend of a friend’s?”

Biting her lip, Amelia nodded. “I think so. He must be. I guess that’s how I know about him.”

Karen reached over and patted her arm. “Amelia, do you remember running down a gray stairwell to a basement? This happened recently. There’s a boiler, and it’s making all sorts of racket. Down the hall is a large storage room full of boxes and old hospital equipment. Blade is waiting there for you. The lights on the ceiling are broken, and the place is dark. You’re down there with Blade…”

Amelia yanked her arm away. “Karen, please…”

Startled, Karen recoiled a bit. Even Rufus backed away from her.

“I’m sorry,” Amelia murmured, her voice cracking. “Could you just—
chill
for a few minutes? I’m so worn out and frazzled and tired. I really don’t want to talk about this now. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

“No, it’s—it’s fine,” Karen said. She nodded at the bowl in front of Amelia. Most of the ice cream had melted. “You sure you don’t want any of that?”

Amelia just shook her head.

Getting to her feet, Karen collected both bowls and took them to the sink. She rinsed them out, and watched the chocolate sauce swirl down the drain.

“I just want to go to sleep and not think about anything for a while,” Amelia said. “This is one of those nights when I used to drink until I’d passed out so I didn’t have to worry or think about anything. Karen, you don’t have any sleeping pills, do you?”

Karen switched off the water. She turned, and gave Amelia a patient, understanding smile. “You know, I think I might.”

Ina McMillan was the name on the address label on the old
Vanity Fair
he’d fished out of the recycling bin in front of the house. That was the aunt, the one she’d shot in the chest. Aunt Ina.

He’d been to the house in Bellingham twice, and to their weekend retreat on Lake Wenatchee several times. But Blade hadn’t been to this place in West Seattle until tonight. It was a Craftsman-style house at the end of a cul-de-sac. He’d parked the Cadillac a little further up the block. Through the open curtains in the living room, he could see all the way back to the kitchen. Now that he knew whose place it was, he could attach a name to the tall guy he’d seen going in and out of the kitchen. That was Uncle George. And the two brats were her cousins.

She hadn’t told him whose place it was. She’d just given him the address, and told him to go check it out. He was supposed to give the place the once-over, because he had to do a job for her there tomorrow. Blade figured it would be a robbery, but he never knew with her.

She hadn’t told him exactly what kind of job yet. She would call him on his cell at eleven o’clock, and then let him know. She was kind of a tease that way. She made a game of everything. He liked that about her, but it could also drive him nuts at times. Sex with her was always a game, and it was fantastic. Blade always felt the crazier a woman was, the better the sex. And this one was
crazy
.

He’d checked the windows around the McMillan house. They were about seven feet above ground level, but he could use one of the trash cans or recycling bins to boost himself up and break in. Besides the front door, there was another door off the kitchen in back. In the bushes by the front stoop, there was a little sign for some home security service—no surprise. But he knew how to dismantle those stupid security alarms.

He glanced at his wristwatch: 10:50. Even though the cul-de-sac wasn’t well lit, Blade put his sunglasses back on. She said they made him look cool. She also liked the shiny black suit he wore practically everywhere. He sometimes enjoyed posing in front of the mirror wearing his sunglasses and his trademark black suit, brandishing his guns. She took a bunch of pictures of him posing like that.

Tucking the
Vanity Fair
under his arm, Blade strolled back to his car. He sat in the front seat. He could still see the McMillan house from here, but his eyes grew tired and he closed them for a spell.

Funny about that corpse in the woods. He was supposed to have buried the guy last night. She’d even left trail markers for him. But after driving to the park, he just didn’t fucking feel like doing all that work. Plus those woods were full of wild animals.

So this morning, she was all over his ass for slacking off. And so he drove back to the park late this afternoon. He’d brought along a small shovel she’d gotten at some army-navy surplus store. He hadn’t exactly been looking forward to burying a decayed stiff. But the notion of possibly encountering—and shooting—some forest creatures suddenly intrigued him.

Well, he didn’t find any forest creatures, but the stiff sure did. What was left of the guy was covered with crows when he’d found him. Blade puked twice as he dragged the stinking, picked-over corpse to a ditch off the marked trail. He didn’t have to dig much to make the shallow oblong hole. With the shovel, he quickly covered him with a layer of dirt, then scattered some leaves and branches over that.

He was headed back to the car when he’s spotted Amelia’s shrink making her way along the trail. There was no mistaking it. She was looking for the dead guy.

It had been kind of fun, chasing her, and scaring the crap out of her. Of course, killing her would have been even more fun, and so easy. He’d had his heart set on killing
something
in that forest.

But he’d had his instructions not to touch her. She wasn’t supposed to die in those woods. No, that was happening later.

His cell phone rang, startling him. Blade reached inside his suit-jacket pocket, pulled out the cell and switched it on. “Yeah?”

“It’s me,” she whispered. “Are you at the address I gave you?”

“Yeah, and I’m sitting in the car, parked down the street. But I can see the place from here. I even figured out who lives there. Uncle George, right?”

“Very good, baby.”

“What kind of job do you want me to pull here tomorrow? Can you at least give me a hint?”

“Not over the phone. But I’ve written it down for you somewhere.”

“You and your fucking games,” he muttered.

“You love it,” she whispered. “I’m at Karen’s house. Why don’t you come over?”

“Now?”

“Yeah. I’ll be watching for you. You said you’re in the car?”

“Uh-huh.” He put the keys in the ignition. “I’ll be right over.”

“First, reach under the driver’s seat.”

Blade bent forward and felt around until his fingers brushed against something.

“I left a note for you,” she said. “Take another long look at the house, then read my note. Okay? I’ll see you soon.”

She clicked off.

Grinning, Blade switched off his phone. He pulled an envelope from under the car seat. Following her advice, he took off his sunglasses and stared at the McMillan house for a few moments. Then he tore open the envelope and read her note:

“Tomorrow, after 4
P.M
.: Kill everyone in the house, and take whatever you want.”

“Karen!” she screamed. “Karen, where are you?”

At her desk with a glass of chardonnay, Karen was studying notes from earlier sessions with Amelia. She sprang to her feet and hurried for the stairs. Rufus followed her.

She’d talked Amelia into taking three sleeping pills, just to ensure they did the trick. Amelia had gone to bed in the guest room about fifteen minutes ago. There hadn’t been a peep out of her, and now this screaming.

Karen raced up the second floor hallway and flung open the guest room door. Between the two quilt-covered twin beds, the table lamp was on. Trembling, Amelia sat up in the bed that was farther from the door, her hands covering her face.

“What is it? What’s going on?” Karen asked. Rufus followed her into the bedroom.

“I’m sorry,” Amelia cried, still covering her face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scream out like that. I feel like such a baby.” She lowered her hands, then slumped back against her pillow. “It’s just—I’m used to the dorm and all the noise. It’s so damn quiet here, I was going crazy. I started hearing things, and got scared.”

Karen sat on the other bed. “Why don’t you come downstairs and watch TV for a while?”

She shook her head. “No, I just want to sleep. More than anything, I wish I could have a couple of shots of Jack Daniel’s right now, just to relax.”

“Not after those sleeping pills,” Karen said. “You’ve been so good lately. I wouldn’t let you slide back now anyway. I can bring a radio in here. Or what about a sound machine? My sister gave one to my dad a few years ago. I think it has ocean waves or something.”

Amelia let out a weak laugh. “Sure, might be worth a shot. Anything but this awful silence. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”

Karen got up and started out of the room. “No sweat. I think it’s just down the hall in the closet. Be right back.”

She retrieved the sound machine from the closet’s bottom shelf. Karen prayed it would do the trick.

She returned to the bedroom with the sound machine, set it on the nightstand, and plugged it in. The sound came on: waves rolling onto the shore, and the occasional, distant cry of a seagull. “Tranquil enough for you?” Karen asked, with a tiny smile.

Amelia sighed. “As long as I don’t have to listen to the sounds inside my head. Do you know what I was hearing when I finally screamed for you?”

“What were you hearing?” Karen asked.

“It was that weird, frail warble Collin made after I hit him in the head with the plank.” Tears came to her eyes, and she covered her face again. “I kept hearing my brother dying….”

“You didn’t do it,” Karen whispered, stroking Amelia’s hair. “You’re not responsible for it, Amelia. Now, lie down and listen to the waves. Don’t think about anything else. Rufus and I can stick around until you fall asleep. Would that help?”

“Thanks, I’m sorry to be so—”

“Oh, hush, it’s no bother,” Karen said, tucking her in. Then she switched off the nightstand lamp, and made her way to the rocking chair by the window. She settled back in it, and Rufus curled up near her feet.

“You’re sweet, Karen,” Amelia murmured, over the sound of the fake distant waves. “I often wonder why you don’t have a boyfriend. Doesn’t make sense, you’re so nice, and pretty.” Karen heard her yawn. “I—I sometimes think about how lonely you must be.”

“Oh, I’m doing all right,” Karen answered almost automatically.

“Always helping people, taking care of people, and no one to take care of you, it’s not right. Karen, you…you deserve to be happy.”

Karen said nothing. She felt a horrible ache in the pit of her stomach, and tears welled up in her eyes. But she remained silent. She just kept rocking in the chair, and listened to Amelia surrender to sleep.

Amelia felt herself drifting off as she spoke to Karen. The sleeping pills must have worked after all. In the darkness, she could see Karen sitting over in the corner of the room, by the window. Amelia heard herself slurring her words, and Karen’s silhouette seemed to blur.

For a second, just as she started to fall asleep, Amelia no longer saw Karen Carlisle across the bedroom. Instead, she had a fleeting image of her father in that rocking chair, the moment before she shot him through the head.

Bellingham, Washington—six months before

A notice came up on the 36-inch flat-screen TV in the Faradays’ den:
ALL MODELS ARE EIGHTEEN YEARS OR OVER
.

Collin had been looking forward to this moment. His parents had left for Lake Wenatchee that Saturday morning. This was the 16-year-old’s first weekend home alone ever, and to get the debauchery rolling, he’d borrowed three DVDs from his friend, Matt Leonard, whose brother had smuggled them home from college:
Whore of the Worlds
,
Booty Call 9-1-1,
and
Missionary Impossible
.

He was having some of the guys over for poker tonight; at least, that was the plan, if one of them could get his hands on a case of beer and some cigars. Matt would be coming over in about two hours, which gave Collin plenty of time to watch one of the movies and whack off. He’d drawn all the shades and peeled down to his underpants. His hand was already inching past the elastic waistband of his briefs as he watched the opening photo credits for
Whore of the Worlds.
A pretty brunette with perky breasts was shown from the waist up, gyrating on something that seemed to have the kick of a mechanical bull. The credits ran: Amber Anniston as Tami Cruz. Next, a long-haired blonde with a huge rack stared seductively at the camera with her finger in her mouth: Sheridan Madrid as Sheri Savoy.

And then the front doorbell rang.

“Damn it!” Collin hissed, switching off the DVD player. Springing up from the sofa, he frantically dressed and hid the DVD covers behind a sofa pillow. The doorbell rang again and again. “Matt, if that’s you, I’m gonna kill you,” Collin muttered. He hurried to the front door, and checked the peephole. “What the hell?” he whispered. Then he unlocked the door and opened it. “Amelia, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, nice way to greet your sister,” she said with an abrupt laugh. She brushed past him and sauntered into the house. “Mom and Dad are in Lake Wenatchee, and little brother is home alone, which means I caught you in the middle of getting drunk or bopping the bologna. Which is it?”

Collin ignored the question. “Aren’t you supposed to be at some Booze Busters retreat in Port Townsend?”

She headed into the kitchen and started hunting through the cupboards. “Don’t remind me. They just dropped me off. I told them I needed to get my allergy medication.”

“Allergy medication?” Collin repeated.

“Yeah. Good one, huh? Anyway, they’re coming back to pick me up in a half hour.” She started checking the lower cabinets. “Where the fuck are they hiding the booze nowadays?”

“To the left of the sink, where they’ve always kept it,” Collin replied, squinting at her. “Why are you acting so weird?”

She pulled a bottle of bourbon out of the cabinet. “Well, I’m not drunk, if that’s what you mean, little brother.” She took two highball glasses from the upper cupboard. “At least, I’m not drunk,
yet.
”

Collin stared at her as she filled both glasses about halfway. He didn’t think his sister was drunk. She just wasn’t acting much like herself. Since when did she ever refer to him as little brother? He’d never seen Amelia wearing so much makeup in the middle of the day. She was acting like she did that time a few weeks back when she’d unexpectedly shown up at his school. He wondered if it was being away at college that had changed her. “What’s going on?” he asked. “What’s with the hotshot act?”

She handed him a glass. “You’re the hotshot, all alone for the weekend. If you plan to get shitfaced, I want to see it.” She clinked her glass against his. “C’mon, chug it.”

“Are you nuts? I’m not getting drunk with you.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be such a pussy. Have some fun.”

Collin shook his head and put down the half-full glass. “I’m not sure this is such a great idea, Amelia. You know you shouldn’t…”

She frowned at him. “You know, you can be a real asshole sometimes.”

He looked at her, incredulous.
“What?”

“You heard me,” she muttered, plopping down at the breakfast table. “When’s the last time we saw each other?”

“Three weeks ago, when you came home for the weekend,” he replied, folding his arms. “And before that it was the time you dropped by my school in the middle of the day. Of course, later, you didn’t remember that, so maybe it doesn’t count.”

Apparently, it had been one of her episodes with
lost time
. He wondered if later she’d have any memory of this afternoon. She sure was acting bizarre.

“Three weeks we haven’t seen each other,” she said. “I come by to say hello, and what do I get?” She made a face and dropped her voice an octave to sound like a surly Neanderthal. “‘What are you doing here?’ Real sweet, Collin. Thanks a lot. How do you think that makes me feel?”

Collin sighed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“It’s bad enough everyone considers me the family fuckup, and you—you pee perfume. Of course, I’m not even really part of this family, being adopted and all.”

“Oh, c’mon, Amelia,” he said, sitting down at the table with her. “That’s bullshit. Why do you even say stuff like that?”

“You’re always so disgustingly good,” she sneered. “With Mom and Dad gone for the weekend, I figured you’d finally let loose a little, maybe get drunk or high or something. And I just wanted to be here to see it. Plus to be perfectly honest, I could really use a drink. Sorry if that offends you. But you’re making me feel like shit. Are you too fucking good to have a couple of shots with me?”

“All right, okay, fine. I’ll have a drink. Jeesh!” He got up from the table and retrieved the highball glass. He quickly tipped it back and took a swallow. It burned. Unlike most of his friends, he really wasn’t much of a drinker. Since his sister had a problem with alcohol, he’d purposely avoided it.

She broke into applause. “Way to go! Finish it!”

His throat was still on fire, but Collin forced down the rest of the glass. He gasped for air. The strong, medicine-like taste was still in his mouth. “Okay?” he asked. “God, Amelia, I don’t know how you can stand to drink this stuff.”

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, laughing. “You’re gonna feel fantastic in a few minutes.”

Collin numbly stared at her. When she laughed, she didn’t sound like herself. Or maybe he was drunk already? It couldn’t happen that fast, could it?

“I’ll make a deal with you.” With a sly grin, she nodded at her glass. “I won’t have this if you drink it for me.”

“No way!” he protested. “Give me a break.”

“Why not? C’mon, it’ll be fun. You can be the drunken screwup for a change, and I’ll be the perfect child and stay on the wagon. It’s role reversal. You’re not driving anyplace. Go for it. You’ll be doing us both some good.”

Collin was shaking his head.

“What can happen? At the very worst, you’ll get hammered. You were gonna do that later tonight, anyway. Right?”

“Okay, okay,” he said, feeling a little funny as he walked to the breakfast table. Collin picked up her glass, and guzzled down the bourbon in two gulps. He coughed and his eyes watered up.

She applauded again. “That’s just like you—rescuing me from myself. You took a bullet for me, little brother.”

He sank down on the chair beside her and caught his breath. There she went again with that
little brother
bit. Maybe it was something she’d picked up at school. Why was it so important that she see him get drunk?

He started to laugh. “You’re acting so completely weird today,” he said, grinning wildly. “I swear to God, it’s like I don’t even know you,
big sister
. I mean, you’ve
always
been weird, and I’ve always loved you for it, Amelia. But this—today—is a whole different type of weird. Ha! Or maybe it’s me. Am I shitfaced already?” He snickered again, and realized he must indeed be drunk, because he couldn’t stop babbling.

Collin reminisced out loud about the times Amelia had raised hell growing up, all the trouble she’d gotten into. He talked about how she’d driven their parents crazy, and he imitated their dad when he went ballistic over something she’d done: “‘Ye Gods, what’s wrong with her?’ Ha! When Dad starts in with the Ye Gods, then watch out, we’re all in trouble!” Collin couldn’t stop laughing.

But then he took a moment to look at her, and Collin realized she hadn’t laughed once. She just sat there with a cryptic smile on her face.

“I’m sorry, Amelia,” he muttered. “You—you know I love you. I do. It’s just that,
Ye Gods
, I think I’m drunk!” He chuckled again.

“We need to get you some fresh air.” She stood, and then helped him to his feet. “This might not have been such a terrific idea. I don’t want you sick. C’mon, little brother….”

Collin felt a bit woozy, but he could certainly walk on his own. He didn’t need her helping him. As they moved into the den, he stole a look at the sofa, where, for the moment, the throw pillow covered up those porn DVDs.

She went to the sliding glass door, and opened the curtain. She struggled to move the door until she finally seemed to notice the stubby, thick beam of wood braced on the floor, tracking for extra insurance against break-ins. Funny, she seemed to have completely forgotten it was there. She moved the beam aside, then slid open the door. “There now,” she said. “Why don’t we sit down on the couch, watch some TV—”

“No, no, no,” he protested, shaking his head. All Collin could think about was his sister switching on the TV and discovering
Whore of the Worlds
there. “Let’s go outside, down to the dock. You’re right, I need some air. C’mon…”

Leading the way, Collin staggered down the slight slope in their backyard toward the dock, and he realized he was truly drunk.