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Chapter Thirty-Three

BEFORE

TOM

The next morning, it feels like it was all an awful dream.

It doesn’t help that I only slept about two hours, which were broken up by dreams in which my father burst through our front door, covered in dirt, a gaping hole in his neck. Maybe it really was all a dream. After all, how could I have killed my own father and buried his body out in the woods?

I drag myself out of bed and splash water on my face until I feel a little more awake. My mother doesn’t usually let me drink coffee, but I could use a cup this morning like nobody’s business. The whites of my eyes are laced with red, and my black hair won’t quit sticking up, no matter how hard I try to smooth it down with water.

When I get out of the bathroom, I pass my parents’ bedroom. Part of me is hoping that my father will be lying in bed, snoring loud enough to wake the dead, and that the whole thing really was an extremely vivid dream. But of course, he’s not there.

He never will be again.

I throw on my clothes in a haze and stumble down the stairs, clinging to the banister to keep from tumbling to my death. It isn’t until I get downstairs to find the rug still missing from the living room that it hits home.

I killed my father last night. I slashed his throat. I wrapped his body in the rug and buried him in the woods.

I stand in the spot where the rug used to be, struggling to feel any kind of emotion for the man who called himself my father. I didn’t love him—I don’t know if I ever did. And I’m not sorry he’s dead. He deserved to die. He deserved even worse than what happened to him.

But even so, I shouldn’t have killed him. Murder is wrong, and I know that. But when I had that knife in my hand, I couldn’t stop myself. The urge to plunge the knife into his soft belly was almost overwhelming.

And the truth is, I enjoyed watching him die. It was one of the best moments of my life.

There’s something very wrong with me. My mother and Daisy might not see it, but Alison sees it, and so does Slug. I don’t know what to do about it. But Alison was right about one thing: I’m dangerous.

I stumble to the kitchen and start up the coffee machine. Tomorrow, my mother is coming home from Seattle. And the first thing she’s going to ask when she comes through the door is, “Where is your father?”

I’ll just tell her I haven’t seen him. Better to play dumb. Bill Brewer is notoriously unreliable, and it wasn’t my job to babysit him while she was gone.

While I’m waiting for the coffee to brew, my phone rings in my pocket. Sure enough, it’s my mother. Probably trying to catch me before school. I consider letting it go to voicemail, but if she can’t track down either of us, she might really call the police. Better to take the call.

“Hi, Mom,” I say into the phone. I’m trying to sound like a guy who hasn’t spent most of the night awake.

“You sound exhausted, Tommy!” Oh well, I guess that didn’t work. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, sure. How is Uncle Dave?”

“He’s doing well. They put a stent in his heart. Did you know they could do that?”

“Yes.” Even though it’s a long way away, I’ve considered becoming a cardiac surgeon. I love the idea of cutting through a person’s chest and getting to see their heart within. I would love to hold an actual heart in my hand—a human one, not the cow’s heart that we dissected in biology a few months ago.

Of course, if I were a surgeon and looking into a living person’s chest, would I be able to stop myself from doing something stupid? When I close my eyes, I can still see my hand plunging the knife into my father’s belly.

“Listen, Tom,” my mother’s voice jogs me out of my thoughts, “your father isn’t answering his cell phone. Is he around?” Before I can answer, she adds, “If he’s sleeping, don’t wake him up.”

Of course. She doesn’t want to get screamed at by my father for disturbing his precious slumber—or risk his taking out his anger on me. “I think he’s at work.”

“This early?”

“I guess so.”

She’s silent on the other line. “But you did see him come home last night, right?”

“Right.” Technically, it’s true.

“Okay… Well, maybe I’ll try him at the hardware store then…”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to bother him? He didn’t seem to be in a good mood.”

“So you did see him this morning then?”

Damn. It feels like my mother is determined to catch me in a lie, and she doesn’t even have any idea what I’ve done. “I mean, he just seems like he’s in a bad mood lately. Like always, you know? That’s all.”

“Okay.” She’s quiet again on the other end of the line, thinking this over. Finally she says, “I won’t bother him, but can you text me when he gets home tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Tommy. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“Uh-huh. Bye, Mom.”

I put down the phone, my brain running a mile a minute. What am I going to do tonight? Do I pretend my father came home? That seems like a bad idea. I don’t want to get caught in a lie.

I gulp down the cup of coffee, grab my backpack off the floor in the foyer where I dropped it last night, and head out in the direction of school. The weather is nice—brisk and breezy, with the promise of hitting the sixties this afternoon. It’s hard to enjoy it though. I can’t stop thinking about last night. And about what I’m going to do when my mother gets home.

And about the Alison problem.

I have this feeling it’s all going to work out though. I’m not sure how I know it, but it’s like a little voice in my ear whispering, It’s going to be okay, Tom. It’s all going to get taken care of.

I don’t know if it’s the fresh air or what, but by the time I get to school I’m feeling pretty good. Yes, I did something unthinkable last night. But I did a good job covering my tracks. Slug will keep my secret, and I’m certain Alison didn’t see a thing. Nobody is going to find out. It’s all going to work out for me.

And then I see the police cars parked in front of the school.

There are two of them again. There’s been one parked there intermittently since Brandi’s body was found, but this is the only time since that first day that two cars are parked in front of the school. And then, just when I’m starting to panic, a third police car pulls up.

Oh no.

Could this have to do with my father? Did they already figure out what I did and now the police are here to arrest me and Slug?

No, that’s impossible.

Except the police are here for a reason. Three cars. Something terrible must’ve happened.

There are a few clusters of students in front of the school, and everyone is talking in hushed tones. What the hell happened ? I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t figure it out very soon.

Before I can approach one of the students, a voice calls out my name: “Tom! Tom! ”

I turn around just in time to see Daisy hurling herself at me. She was upset when Brandi’s body was found, but that was nothing compared to now. She clings to me, her body shaking with sobs. I stroke her golden hair, trying to comfort her even though I don’t know what’s happened.

“Daisy,” I murmur. “Calm down. Everything is going to be okay…”

Daisy raises a tear-streaked face. “What are you talking about? How can anything possibly be okay? Alison is missing .”

Alison is missing?

Jesus Christ, I think I’m going to be sick.