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He’s not so far gone yet that he can’t speak, but when he tries to stand up, he collapses back onto the sofa because his legs can’t support him now. He’ll stay right where he is while I say what’s been on my mind since that day when I was an eleven-year-old girl who realized she knew the truth.

“You put something in my drink?” he asks in horror, slurring a few of the words.

I nod, happy to admit my crime. “Yes.”

“What are you going to do?”

The fear in his voice thrills me more than I thought it would. I knew I’d feel a sense of satisfaction, but I didn’t expect to enjoy this so much. I feel sort of guilty about that. My mother and father never had a happy day once Amanda was found strangled in those woods at the end of our street. My sister didn’t get to enjoy any of the things she should have in life.

But maybe it’s not wrong to relish this since the rest of my family didn’t get the chance to.

“I’m going to tell you how I trapped you and then I’m going to watch you die. You know how that feels, right? You watched Amanda die, and I know you killed that Tess woman too. Were there others? Doesn’t matter. Your time on this earth is nearly over, so nothing matters concerning you anymore.”

He stares at me through increasingly blurry eyes, and I know he finally recognizes what something deep inside him saw the moment he first laid eyes on me. Suddenly, I’m familiar to him.

“You won’t get away with this. Someone saw you come here.”

I throw my head back in peals of laughter. The irony in this man is too much.

“Tell me. Did you ever once think you wouldn’t get away with it? Don’t be ridiculous. I made sure no one saw me walk up here. I took the path behind the houses. You know the one. You didn’t think it started behind your house and only went over to poor Sara’s street, did you?”

As I talk, I see he understands. He wants to stand up, to get away or hurt me like I’m hurting him, but it’s no use. The drugs won’t allow that.

“Kimmy knows we’re together. It’s the fucking highlight of her week,” he bites out in desperation.

I sit down in a chair across the room from him and shake my head. “Actually, she doesn’t. She knows you left, and I’m guessing right about now she’s feeling bad for me because as a married woman, she’s sure I overplayed my hand by having her interrupt our dinner together.”

He shakes his head, not understanding, so I continue. “You see, I asked her to do that. I told her I didn’t want you to think it was going to be a sure thing with me. Men need obstacles, I said. Of course, a few minutes later, she watched you walk right up here alone, and if I know her and that kind heart of hers, she’s sure I’m home alone. She may even want to come see if I’m okay. If she does, I’ll make sure to tell her when I see her tomorrow how sorry I was that I didn’t hear the door, but I was in the bathtub drowning my sorrows about tonight in a good book and a big glass of wine. So you see, nobody knows I’m here just like nobody knew you snuck over to Sara’s. Well, nobody but me.”

Defiant to the end, he tries to sit up but can’t. “These drugs will wear off soon enough. You won’t be able to get away from me then.”

I shake my head at how ridiculous he sounds. “Do you honestly believe I’d drug you with something that wears off? Think, Adam. I’ve been planning this for years. I know every trick in the book when it comes to committing crimes. Literally. I’ve read them all. I’ve had to research them all too. Trust me. These drugs won’t wear off. But not to worry. Before they kill you, I’m going to do to you what you did to my sister. Then you’ll know how it feels to be the victim instead of the killer. I’m thinking you know a little about how that feels right now.”

“This won’t bring her back. I still killed her. None of this matters.”

Rage that I’ve successful kept at bay for so many years since that terrible summer comes rushing back, filling every inch of me. My hands curl into tight fists that I want to beat against his face. I don’t, though. He can be as cocky as he wants.

The last thing he’ll see is the sister of one of his victims staring into his eyes as he takes his final breath.

“What matters is I tracked you down. I found you and I moved into this neighborhood to be as close as possible to you. Then I plotted your death down to the second. You see, Adam, vengeance can keep a person going for as long as it takes, but I knew the other night that the time had come. Once I gave you that alibi, I knew I could get you to do whatever I wanted.”

As I speak, he narrows his eyes in anger. Once I finish, he quickly says, “Then you’re no better than me. In fact, you’re worse than I am. Mine were crimes of passion. Spur of the moment things. Yours is planned out and…and….yours is premeditated.”

I hear the confusion in his words as the drugs begin to take their final toll on him. I’m enjoying this. Who knows? Maybe I won’t even bother strangling him. It would be poetic justice to see him die at my hands like my sister did at his, but I’m rather liking just watching how the drugs I slipped in his wine are slowly taking over and killing him.

His condemnation of me and my motives mean nothing to me. He’s a killer. I’m someone seeking revenge for the life he stole. Completely different animal.

“So crimes of passion, huh? No planning whatsoever?” I ask him, not believing for a second he suddenly decided to strangle my sister that summer day in the woods.

He doesn’t answer at first, and for a second or two, I don’t know if the drugs are working slightly faster than I thought they would. All my research said I’d have about an hour before he died a very painful death. I made sure to choose a drug that would hurt at the end. He doesn’t deserve to quietly slip into a nice sleep as he passes away.

When he does speak, he struggles to get the words out. “I didn’t…it wasn’t…planned. It wasn’t. Crime of…passion.”

“Well, she wasn’t raped, and the police said there was no evidence of her having had sex within the two days prior to her death. So what passion do you mean, Adam? Or was that the problem? She wouldn’t have sex with you, so you killed her out of rage that you couldn’t get what you wanted?”

My use of the word rape seems to offend him. He grimaces and shakes his head, as if that crime offends him but murder doesn’t. What an odd set of ethics this person has.

“I never raped…never raped,” he says, struggling to say the words either because of the drugs or his aversion to the idea.

Either way, I don’t think he’s lying. And I don’t care.

“Well, a gold star for you, Adam. You didn’t rape anyone. But murder is worse than rape, you know. It’s one thing to hurt someone and scar them for life. It’s another to take their life away from them. You’re a murderer. You killed my sister, and now you’re feeling exactly what she felt. Is it hard to breathe yet? I was told by an expert that the drug I used makes it very difficult to take a breath of air in by the end.”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out except a gasp. The sound sends chills down the back of my neck. It’s raw and base, all he deserves.

Finally, he gets a word or two out, but they make no sense. I’m not interested in what he has to say now anyway. Nothing will change what he did or what’s going to happen to him in a few minutes.

His fate was sealed the moment I found out where he lived five months ago.

“Do you know how long it took to find you, Adam? You hid yourself well. I have to give you that. It was inevitable, though, so don’t beat yourself up too much.”

Unable to speak now because of the drug’s effects, he shakes his head rapidly like he’s having a spasm. He wants to defend himself or tell me he knew who I was all along, but he can’t.

No matter. There’s no defense for what he did, and I’m not interested in his bluster that he knew who I was. He never knew his killer was stalking him from right down the road, waiting for the precise moment when she could carry out her plan to avenge her sister and her family.

“The day I finally found you was like the Universe tapping me on the shoulder and pointing the way to my destiny. And yours, of course. I imagined about a million ways to do this. Some were far grislier. Some were way more painful. You see, I’ve been carrying around a lot of hate for you all these years, Adam. You killed my only sister, and then my parents. Oh, you didn’t strangle them like you did with Amanda, but it was the same outcome. They died brokenhearted over their daughter’s death. This is for them as much as it is for her.”

Gasping for air, he clutches his throat in what has to be the most ironic action ever taken in this world and whispers, “You didn’t win.”

I stand up to leave, knowing he doesn’t have much time left. Stopping right in front of him, I lean down and position my hands just inches away from his throat, careful not to touch his skin.

“Yes, I did. Now go to hell.”

I walk away as he fights to breathe, and I think it’s possible that sound is going to keep me going for the rest of my life. The killer finally got his, and no, I won’t be caught.

Just like Adam, I’m careful. Society will take care of the rest. His death will be on the news, maybe, if it’s determined he didn’t die by natural causes. A clever coroner might realize that. So possibly he’ll be the focus of some stories on the local news for a few days. If they find out he was murdered, the police will try to find the killer, but without any leads, the case will go cold.

Exactly like my sister’s.

And by the time of Kimmy and Marilyn’s block party in September, Adam Prentiss will be nothing but a memory, merely one of the people who lived here and doesn’t anymore. That’s how suburbia works.

For as kind as your neighbors may seem, life goes on and they forget you in the blink of an eye. You’re only worthy of gossip if you’re around. Once you’re gone, you’re history.

When he lets out a tiny cry of agony, the best he can muster as the poison finally reaches his heart, I smile and let out a heavy sigh. That sounded like it hurt. Good.

I look back at Adam and see the drugs have done their job. I need to make sure I note that in my research just in case an author uses this in a book. This happened far faster than I expected.

When I step outside, I notice the humidity doesn’t feel as oppressive as it has for the past week. Maybe the heat wave is breaking. That would be good. Sitting out on my porch every morning has made me feel like a wrung-out dishrag. It had to be done, but I’ll enjoy my morning coffee better once the temperatures aren’t eighty degrees by seven am.

The neighborhood is deathly quiet tonight. I look down the road and see no one’s lights on. Odd since it’s only around eight-thirty. The streetlight in front of the Meyers’ house flickers like someone’s using it to send Morse code. I watch it for a few seconds before hurrying back behind the houses to make my way home.

As I walk past Aaron’s house, I see him standing in front of a window smiling at me. I’ve never seen him look this happy in all the time I’ve lived here. I hope he found a reason to go on. He seems like a nice guy who’s been dealt a rough hand in life.

I hear the window open, and in a low voice he says, “I knew you didn’t like him as much as he liked you.”

His words make me stop dead, and for a split second, fear fills me. If Aaron tells anyone I was here tonight, the police are going to suspect me.

Then he smiles again and says, “But what do I know? I’m just the crazy guy in this neighborhood. Have a good night.”

I watch in stunned amusement as he closes the window and walks away. That’s exactly what the police will think if he says anything because everyone in this neighborhood thinks he’s precisely that.

Crazy, out of his mind from grief.

By the time I get home, all I want to do is relax in a hot bath. I creep up the back stairs and slowly strip out of my clothes before tossing them in the hamper. Ten minutes later, I’m neck deep in a bubble bath.

There is no book to read tonight. Nothing would be able to keep my attention anyway. I stare at the silver faucet and temperature knobs I thought seemed old fashioned when I moved in but now seem quaint.

Into the silence of the home I bought with my parents’ life insurance money, I say the words I’ve waited fifteen years to utter. “I did it, Mom and Dad. I found him and I made him pay. I did it.”

I don’t say what I have to say to my sister out loud, but in my mind, I tell her he didn’t get away with it. I found him, and he’s never going to hurt anyone ever again.

Two weeks later, the police have stopped investigating and Harold says the coroner ruled his death a heart attack. The neighborhood has returned to normal, for the most part, although Aaron is still hiding out in his house.

Kimmy waves at me from her driveway and walks over to talk to me as I sit on my front porch. She looks troubled, and as she sits down next to me, she lets out a heavy sigh.

“Will our cul-de-sac ever be the way it used to be? I keep looking at the For Sale sign on the Meyers’ front lawn and wondering who might move in. I expect a sign to go up on Adam’s house too.”

I take her hand in mine and give it a gentle squeeze. “Things will go back to the way they were. You watch. By the time next month’s block party comes around, I bet we have new people here. I bet they’ll be even better too. Maybe they’ll have little kids for your kids to play with. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

She turns to look at me wearing a huge smile. “Oh, that would be great! I hope you’re right. I’d love to see more children in this neighborhood. Thanks, Caroline. You are just the sweetest person. I’m so glad you moved in here.”

And just like that, even the most sympathetic neighbor already begins to forget Adam Prentiss ever existed in her perfect suburban cul-de-sac.