Page 129 of Kiss Her Goodbye

Lilla pauses with one foot through the destroyed sliders.“Oh, poppet, don’t believe everything you read.”

Then she’s gone, slipping back into the shadows.

While sirens split the distance.

Daryl begins to moan.

And Dr.Richard gently gathers up Sabera’s lifeless body and cradles it against his chest.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Kurtz offers softly.

I have to turn away.

I can’t take any more of his pain.

I can’t take any more of my own.

I ease over to Aliah’s side.We sit together and wait for this nightmare to end.

CHAPTER 47

THE NEXT FEW HOURS PASSin a blur.Police, EMTs, Detective Marc.Me scrambling to check on Petunia, who, fortunately, seems no worse for the wear.I coax her into her room, strawberries all the way, as first responders and spiky lizards don’t mix.

Marge gets to stay in the guest bedroom, basking in her new, larger digs with the door firmly shut.I manage to wrestle up eight out of twelve baby pythons.Having done my research beforehand, I set up heat lamps to attract the remaining four.Which may or may not work.But then Bart isn’t exactly the type to complain about a stray snake slithering across his bed.What we’ve done to his house, on the other hand…

Speaking of which, Bart must’ve finally checked the video feeds from his home cameras, which earns me an immediate call.

I’m not in the mood to explain things I don’t have the words to explain.Just, “Everyone’s okay.All good.Well, not Daryl.”

More irate chatter.

I provide a rough assessment of Daryl’s condition, which hospital.Bart demands to know name of doctor, surgeon, pretty much the entire board of directors.Way above my pay grade.He clicks off, I’m guessing to rustle up the trauma surgeon of his choice.What is it Daryl had said?Bart takes care of his own.

Please let that be the case.

Dr.Richard asks to ride in the ambulance with Sabera’s body.Dead, apparently, is not dead, until the authorized official makes it so.I don’t want to know.I can’t even…

Daryl is rushed away, as well as Aliah.

EMTs gaze at me with concern.I keep waving them off, shaking my head.I catch a brief glimpse of myself in a hall mirror.Twin tracks of gore down both sides of my face.I give my attacker points for symmetry.I look like a clown crying rivers of blood.

Then there’s the puncture wound on my neck, my shoulder.

I don’t pause, I don’t consider.

My outside matches my inside; I’m wounded all over.

Furtive calls from Genni.Given the hour, Zahra is sound asleep in the front of Genni’s truck, which Genni is apparently driving around aimlessly, waiting for the all clear.

It makes me testy with Detective Marc, who’s in a foul mood of his own, till we’re nearly shouting at each other.What the fuck happened?

Ask his sister.

Are we seriously that stupid?

Ask his sister.

He stops speaking to me sooner versus later.I don’t complain.