August 26, 2018
15
Andy felt the tip of her finger slip through the hole in her skin.
She had been shot.
She leaned her head back against the wall. She sucked in air through her teeth and tried not to pass out.
Edwin Van Wees was on the floor of his office. Broken glass was scattered around his body. Pieces of paper. Blood. The MacBook that Andy had used to find out about her mother.
Laura.
Andy reached out, her fingers brushing the edge of the burner phone. The screen was cracked. She closed her eyes, concentrated on listening. Was that her mother’s voice? Was she still on the phone?
A woman’s scream came from the other side of the house.
Andy’s heart stopped.
The second scream was louder, abruptly cut off by a loud smack.
Andy clamped her jaw shut so she would not scream, too.
Clara.
Andy couldn’t stay frozen this time. She had to do something. Her legs shook as she tried to push herself up against the wall. The pain almost ripped her open. She had to hunch over to stop the cramping. Blood dribbled from the bullet hole in her side. Andy’s legs shook as she tried to move forward. This was her fault. All of it. Laura had warned her to be careful and still, Andy had led them here.
They.
To kill Edwin. To kill Clara.
Andy’s shoulder slid along the wall as she tried to find Clara, to give herself up, to stop this awful mess she had made. Her feet got caught up on the rug. Pain sliced into her side. Her head bumped against the photographs that lined the hallway. She had to stop to catch her breath. Her eyes kept going in and out of focus. She stared at the pictures on the wall. Different frames, different poses, some color, some black and white. Clara and Edwin with two women around Andy’s age. A few snapshots of the women when they were younger, in high school, in kindergarten, and then—
Toddler Andy in the snow.
Andy felt numb as she stared at the image of her younger self.
Was it Edwin’s hand she had been holding? The adjacent photo showed baby Andy sitting in Clara and Edwin’s lap. Laura had cut Andy out of their lives and superimposed her onto the stock photo of the fake Randall grandparents.
“Nice, right?”
Andy turned her head. She had been expecting to find Mike, but it was a woman’s voice. A woman she knew all too well.
Paula Kunde stood at the end of the hallway.
She pointed a familiar-looking revolver at Andy. “Thanks for leaving this for me in your car. Did you rub off the serial number, or was that Mommy?”
Andy didn’t answer. She couldn’t catch her breath.
“You’re hyperventilating,” Paula said. “Pick up the phone.”
Andy turned her head. The burner phone was on the floor behind her. In the stillness, she could hear her mother wailing.
“Jesus.” Paula stomped down the hall, scooped up the phone and held it to her ear. “Shut up, Dumb Bitch.”
Laura didn’t shut up. Her tinny voice was vibrating with rage.
Paula turned on the speakerphone.