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18

The sirens start sounding throughout the development around eight o’clock as I sit on my front porch enjoying my morning coffee. I drifted off there for a few minutes, unsure today would be the day it all happened.

“Damn. I must have been exhausted,” I mumble as I wipe the sleep from my eyes. “Revenge may be a dish best served cold, but it’s also a very tiring dish.”

Kimmy rushes out of her house with Misty on her hip while Tim and the boys follow behind. Marilyn and Harold run to the end of their driveway and look across the street as if to ask if anyone knows what’s happening.

I know I have to force myself to not look happy. It’s going to be hard, but I can do it. I pretended not to hate every blessed second that son of a bitch was around me for the past few weeks. I’m sure I can fake being surprised and then upset at the news that someone has met his untimely demise.

I take a deep breath in to steady myself and slowly stand up. Kimmy runs across the street to my yard and shakes her head in disbelief. “It’s Adam’s house. What happened the other night between you two? I haven’t seen him since I watched him walk up the street right after I interrupted your dinner. I’m so sorry, Caroline. If only I hadn’t done as you asked.”

Poor Kimmy. I don’t want her to blame herself, so I smile and walk down to meet her, making sure to wear my most concerned face.

Taking her hand in mine, I give it a sympathetic squeeze. “Don’t do that. I wouldn’t change a thing. Whatever’s happened, you have nothing to feel bad about. Neither do I.”

Tears fill her eyes as she sobs, “I know, but another day of police in our little neighborhood? I don’t think I can take it.”

“We have each other, and Marilyn and Harold are here with all of us too. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

Tim shoos the boys back into the house and hurries up to in front of Adam’s house to find out what’s going on. We wait in silence to find out the news, my heart hammering away as excitement fills me. A minute later, he starts walking down the street toward us wearing an expression of pure sadness.

“What? What is it, Tim?” Kimmy asks, practically pleading for him to tell us the news.

He doesn’t answer until he reaches us. In a low voice, he says, “Adam was found dead in his house a few minutes ago. Aaron, of all people, found him. He says he’s been gone for a few days by what he saw.”

Kimmy lets out a sob filled with pure horror. “Oh my God! That’s terrible. Our cozy little neighborhood is rocked for a second time by tragedy!”

I’m not sure if she’s referring to Sara’s death or the breakup of Suzanne and Jared’s marriage as the first tragedy. Here in suburbia both are on pretty much equal footing.

But I need to put on my show right now, so I don’t have time to think of what the hell Kimmy actually means. Opening my eyes wide, I whip up some tears and say, “Oh, no! What could have happened? He was fine when he stormed out of here the other night.”

“Stormed out? Why?” she asks, her focus so swiftly shifting from someone’s death to the possibly lurid details of my time with Adam.

A few tears stream out of my eyes, impressing even me since I haven’t been able to cry not even a single one since my parents passed. “He was upset. He thought you were spying on us, but I told him that wasn’t it at all. We had some words and then he left. The last I saw of him was when he was walking up the street toward his house.”

“Oh my God! That’s why he didn’t talk to me when he walked by me that night. He was furious because he thought I was intruding on your date. I wish you would have told him the real reason I came here. I hate that he was upset with me.”

Kimmy shifts Misty to her other hip as I bite my tongue to stop myself from saying that it really doesn’t matter since the guy is dead. I love Kimmy, but the woman gets her priorities all mixed up sometimes.

A police cruiser drives into the cul-de-sac and stops right in front of Adam’s house, joining two others and the coroner’s van. Kimmy and I watch as they bring him out in a black bag laid out on a stretcher, and it takes every ounce of willpower I possess to not smile with utter satisfaction at the sight. Finally, he’s paid for what he did to my family. It took far longer than I had wanted it to take, but I did it.

And no matter what anyone ever says about revenge, don’t believe them. It’s as sweet as sweet can be.

Kimmy turns away, shielding little Misty’s eyes from the scene up the street. “Oh, this is so horrible. I can’t believe this is happening again, but this time we actually know the person.”

So much for our mourning for Sara. We really didn’t know her anyway, and in the world of our cul-de-sac, she was a villain for sleeping with Jared and breaking up his marriage.

A very stern, very round police officer slowly makes his way down the street and stops in front of my house. For a long moment, I stare down at him as he stares back up at me, and I wonder if he sees the utter jubilation I’m working so hard to hide.

I gently grab Kimmy’s arm to act like I’m upset as she says to the officer, “Do you know what happened to Adam?”

“No ma’am, but I’d like to speak to you ladies.”

Kimmy turns to look at me with pure terror in her eyes like she’s the one who’s guilty of killing him. Giving her arm a squeeze, I say, “It’s okay. They have to investigate. It’s their job, right?”

That calms her, and we walk down to where the officer stands waiting for us. He’s even rounder up close, so much that he reminds me of Humpty Dumpty. I press my lips together to stifle the smile at the thought of this man teetering on top of a wall and work to make myself look sad again.

“Officer, we’re so upset right now. Adam was our friend. He came to our block parties, and we got to know him,” Kimmy says, practically in tears.

“I understand, ma’am. What is your name?”

“Kimmy Marshall,” she answers. Pointing across the street, she says, “I live right over there.”

“Okay. Now, can you tell me how long the victim lived in the house up the street?”

Instantly, I hate the way he refers to Adam as the victim. He wasn’t a victim. He was a goddamned murderer who preyed on helpless girls. He ruined my family by killing my sister. How dare anyone call him a victim?

“A couple months. He moved in back in June, I think. He wasn’t here that long, but he became part of the neighborhood. He brought chips and salsa to the last block party just the other day. I can’t believe he’s gone,” Kimmy says and begins to sob.

The officer with the nametag that says Murphy turns to look at me, probably thinking he’s not going to get anything useful from Kimmy since she’s quickly turning into an emotional mess right in front of him. I notice his eyes are pale gray, a very unusual color to find in eyes. And they’re just a hint too close together, like they’re intruding on the space his nose should be taking up.

“Ma’am, what is your name?”

“Caroline Townsend,” I answer, nearly tripping up and using my real last name.

“And did you know the victim? The woman up the road said you and he were closer than anyone here.”

“Not really. I moved into the neighborhood after him. We only spoke a few times.”

That makes Officer Murphy’s eyebrows shoot up into his forehead. “Is that so? The woman up the road said the victim was at your house last night. That sounds like you were a lot closer than just speaking a few times.”

“It’s a small group, officer. Everyone thinks they know everyone’s business here. Adam was at my house that night to bring me a housewarming gift. Whatever else you heard is just gossip.”

He jots down a few words on a tiny notebook he’s taken out of his shirt pocket, and as I wait for him to continue, he turns his focus back to Kimmy. “What can you tell me about Adam before he moved here, ma’am? Did he ever talk to you about his past?”

As Kimmy starts to explain the conversations she had with Adam, the coroner’s van slowly passes by with Adam’s body inside and my mind drifts back to fifteen years ago and that past Adam thought he left behind.

My mother yells for me to get ready because we need to leave for the movie soon. It’s Saturday, our movie day, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“I’ll be right down!” I call out.

I straighten my bedspread and fluff my pillow like I’m supposed to while looking out my bedroom window at the beautiful day waiting for me. I watch that boy from across the street walk alone toward the woods. Weirdo.

Today’s movie is a surprise. Well, not to my mother. She’s insisted on keeping the movie choice for this week a secret. I bet it’s something gushy with romance. Those are her favorites. I like action movies more, but since it’s her pick this week, lovey-dovey will probably be how I spend two hours this afternoon.

I thought maybe it would still be raining this weekend, but thankfully, the clouds disappeared, and the sun finally returned yesterday. Not that I mind sitting in a theater when it’s raining out, but I’m tired of being cooped up inside. Three days of rain is depressing.

If I said anything about the weather to my mother, she’d probably say we should skip movie day so I could go outside to play. “Blow the dust off yourself,” is how she likes to put it. As if being inside for a few days made me turn all dusty.

After I finish straightening up my room like I have to every Saturday, I bound downstairs to find her on the phone with one of her friends. I swear my mother walks around with that thing attached to her ear ninety percent of the time. Whoever she’s on with, they’re doing most of the talking because all she says whenever she passes me in the living room is “Oh,” or “Is that right?”

Those are her phrases she always says when she paces and talks while the other person chatters on about whatever it is they called about. My mother’s friends are all like her—they have kids, they live in our neighborhood, and they love to talk on the phone.

My father used to joke that on my mother’s final day on earth they’d find her dead on the floor with the phone up to her ear. Whenever he’d say that, she’d give him a nasty look intended to let him know he needed to cut it out.

But he didn’t.

Not until that one day I heard them having a huge fight down here while I was upstairs supposed to be asleep. She told him to never say that again to her. That talking about her death was the cruelest thing he could ever do. She was so angry that day that I thought she might burst into tears because that’s what happens whenever she’s that upset. She starts crying while she’s still yelling.

But she didn’t cry that day. She simply put her foot down and told him to never say that again or he wouldn’t like what happened next. I didn’t hear what he said back to her that night. I was too afraid to listen because I didn’t want to hear her say she was leaving. The thing is, though, my father has never said that again.

My mother smiles as she walks by me on her way into the kitchen and motions for me to get something from the refrigerator before we leave. I’ve gotten pretty good at lip reading, at least with her. I’m not sure I can do it with anyone else, but she says basically the same things all the time when she’s on the phone, so even if I’m not sure what exactly she’s telling me to do, I can take an educated guess.

That’s what my teacher says a hypothesis is. An educated guess. I like science class and Mr. Masters, who always tells us to use our brains and figure things out instead of having other people do it for us. He told me after class last week when he asked me to stay behind that I have a great mind and he thinks I could be a detective when I grow up. He only thinks that because I figured out who was stealing Sandi Mercer’s lunch for a whole week.

It wasn’t that hard a case to solve. Sandi likes to leave her lunch in her cubby at the back of the class every morning, and I kept seeing Carl walking back there right before lunchtime. Then he’d disappear to the boy’s bathroom with his backpack. Mr. Masters thought my detection of the thief was ingenious. All I could think was how gross it was to eat an egg salad sandwich in the boy’s bathroom.

Carl got in trouble and swears he’s going to get back at me for it. I told Mr. Masters I was afraid what he would do, but he promised nothing will happen. He says most people never follow through on their threats.

I do, though. My father always says that if I say I’m going to do something, I do it. He never has to worry. I’m like that when people hurt me or my friends too. I never forget.

And I never fail to follow through.

Finally, my mother finishes her call and sits down across from me at the kitchen table. “Are you ready for our Saturday movie time?” she asks with a big smile that makes her eyes look like they sparkle.

“I am! I’m betting it’s something about love, though. Isn’t it?”

Her smile doesn’t fade even a tiny bit as she shakes her head. “Not telling. We’ll leave in a couple minutes, so go upstairs and brush your teeth.”

Every part of me sags against the chair at her order. “Mom, why? I’m going to be eating popcorn in like half an hour. The first ten handfuls will taste like peppermint. Yuck.”

She points down the hallway toward the stairs and gives me a fake angry face. “Right now. You don’t leave this house without brushing your teeth, and as for eating popcorn, that’s exactly the reason why you have to brush those teeth. I swear you kids are going to be the death of me about this issue.”

That seems a little extreme, but I don’t say anything because I know she’s not going to change her mind. Nobody’s going to die because I don’t have clean teeth, though. That I know for sure.

I trudge up the stairs—that’s what she calls it when I don’t want to do what she says but I do it anyway. Trudge. My father calls it stomping. Whatever it is, I end up in the bathroom doing exactly as she ordered and hating every minute of it, especially since I already brushed my teeth right after breakfast this morning.

After I rinse and wipe my mouth, I look at myself in the mirror and think the same thing I always do when I look at my reflection lately.

When am I going to start looking like my sister?

She’s gorgeous, and I swear it’s like I’m never going to blossom, as my mother calls it. She was beautiful by the time she was my age, but here I am at eleven years old, nearly twelve, and I still look like the same person I always have.

No long straight hair like her. Just frizzy hair like I always have.

No pretty face with big blue eyes. Yes, my eyes are blue, but not like hers. I don’t know what makes her eyes different, but they are. When people see hers, they say she’s stunning. When they see mine, they say it’s good that I’m smart.

I look out the window and see my sister walking up the street toward the woods. That’s what you get to do when you’re sixteen. You get to go hang out in the woods on a beautiful, sunny day with a boy.

She’s never said his name, but I know he’s the boy from across the street. The weird one who always frowns when he sees me. Unlike the other boys she spends time with, he never has anyone around from school.

I asked her about him the other day when it was raining and she was sitting by her window staring out across the street, but she brushed me off. She likes him more than she likes the other boys who call on the phone for her. I know it. She acts differently about him than she does with the others.

He never calls. He just waits for her in the woods. I think it’s weird he never walks there with her. As my mother always says, “It’s just rude when a boy doesn’t come to the door to pick you up.”

One time I heard my father say that’s just old fashioned, but my mother disagreed. He said if she keeps that up, my sister isn’t going to want to bring anyone to meet them.

I watch her disappear into the woods as my mother yells for me to come down because it’s time to leave. My sister doesn’t know what she’s missing. I know I wouldn’t choose to hang out in the woods with some weird boy over going to the movies on a Saturday afternoon.

With one last glance out the window, I don’t see my sister anymore. I hope he’s worth it. She’s going to miss a great movie. I can feel it. Today, my mother will choose a good one for us.

Someone touching my arm tears me out of my memories, and I see Officer Murphy frowning at me. Kimmy takes my hand in hers and gives it a supportive squeeze before saying, “It’s okay, Caroline. He just wants to know what you and Adam talked about the other night.”

“Yes, ma’am. If you can answer the question, I’d appreciate it,” he says with more than a hint of impatience in his voice.

I shake my head to rid my mind of the last remnants of that day so many years ago and shrug. “Not much. He came to give me a housewarming gift, and I made tomatoes stuffed with chicken salad. We made small talk over dinner, and then he left.”

When I finish explaining myself, he stares at me like he doesn’t believe I’m telling him everything. I have to keep calm, but the look on his face unnerves me.

“That was it? It seems strange since he was single and you are too, Miss Townsend.”

Before I can say anything, Kimmy jumps in to protect me. “Please, officer. We’re all mourning the death of Adam. This is the second time that someone’s died that we knew. We don’t deserve to be interrogated. He was our friend. We’re going to miss him. Caroline wasn’t dating him or anything like that. She was nice to him, like the rest of us, and his going to her house that night wasn’t anything big. They weren’t close, so there’s no reason to treat her like she’s done anything wrong.”

Officer Murphy seems surprised by Kimmy’s strident defense of me, but he quickly says, “Oh, yes. Sara Nottingham.”

“Yes, and we knew her, not as well as Adam, but we met her recently, so now we’re dealing with losing two people we knew.”

Another policeman calls for Officer Murphy, and he tucks his notebook back into his pocket before telling the two of us that the police will likely need to speak to everyone in the neighborhood again when they find out what killed Adam. As he waddles away, Kimmy lets out a heavy sigh as I silently congratulate myself on using a poison that mimics a heart attack.

“Thank you for helping me with him,” I say to her. “I guess I’m just in shock. I can’t believe he’s dead. He was at my house and seemed fine. I was going to walk up to see him today to make sure he wasn’t mad at me since he left the way he did after dinner and hadn’t been out in the neighborhood since. I just can’t believe it.”

Sadness fills her eyes, and she nods. “I know. I can’t believe it either. I need to get Misty into the house. This heat is too much for her. I hope this heatwave breaks soon. I’d be happy to have even a cool breeze.”

“Go home and relax,” I say as I gently pinch Misty’s chubby cheeks. “Put this little one down for a cool nap and sit in the air conditioning for a while. I’m going to go inside and say a little prayer for Adam. My mother used to say when a person passed that even a little prayer helps them on their journey to heaven.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful, Caroline. I’m going to do that too. Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

I lean in and give her and Misty a hug. “I will.”

She hurries across the street, and I turn around to walk up my front steps, looking back at Adam’s house one last time. To hell with praying for that murderous bastard. I hope he rots in hell.