Don't Scream Part 50

Marsha No doubt a sly tribute to Marshmallow, her beloved horse.Marshmallow is also the pa.s.sword for her online e-mail account. That wasnt hard to guess. Trial and error, and bingo! Youre logged in.

Ah, Ca.s.sie. You should have galloped away on horseback. If you had, I might not have found you.

Because, of course, you cant plant a homing device on an animal without some groomer eventually finding it.

Poor Ca.s.sie. She had no way of ever guessing that the surprise party invitation wasnt the only thing left behind on her car that day at Glenwood Springhouse.

Now, to further delay the identification of her body whenever it is found, her car has been moved to a remote part of the camp, the homing device removed.

There was some satisfaction in watching the car go sailing over the edge of a ravine, landing in a crumpled heap in the dense woods at the bottom.

And, yes, I left it there, Ca.s.sie.

You know why? Because its just a heap of metal not a person, for G.o.ds sake.

Funny, how the decade-old ache hasnt subsided a bit now that yet another so-called sister has paid for what she did.

If anything, its grown more intense; the need for vengeance more urgent than ever before.

But, once again, theres nothing to do but settle in and wait.

Quincy Hiles is in the pa.s.sengers seat for a change, with Mike at the wheel as they sit in late-afternoon holiday weekend traffic on the Ma.s.s Pike.

Hes mulling over their provocative conversation with Isaac when his phone rings.

Its Deb Jackson.

Where are you?

Greeted with only that brusque question, Quincy provides an equally brusque answer. On the road.

Listen, something just happened with Wilmington.

What happened?

We went over there to bring him in for more questioning Yeah. Thats nothing new; theyve been on him relentlessly, determined to get him to crack.

So his mother said he was still in bed.

Yeah.

Whats going on? Mike asks, eavesdropping on Quincys end of the conversation.

Quincy holds up his index finger as Deb goes on, We told her to go wake him up. She went up there and the next thing we know, theres a hysterical scream.

What happened?

Wilmingtons dead, Quincy. He slit his wrists.

Quincy emits a shocked expletive.

What? Mike asks. What the h.e.l.l happened?

Thats not all, Deb goes on breathlessly in Quincys ear. He left a note. And youre not gonna believe this What are we going to do? Brynn asks, elbows propped on the kitchen table, forehead buried in her hands.

I dont know. Fee is uncharacteristically desolate, staring into s.p.a.ce, cell phone in hand. I just wish Ca.s.sie would return our calls.

I know. She pauses, trying to phrase her next words.

What if, she says carefully, we went to the policewait, dont interrupt, she adds when Fiona opens her mouth, and we didnt tell them anything about what happened with Rachel? What if we just told them whats going on now, and that somebody is obviously threatening us, and let the police take it from there?

How long do you think its going to take them to figure out that whats going on now has something to do with something that happened in the past? Specifically, when we were in college?

Brynn shakes her head. Fiona is right. She just keeps sending it around and around her thought processes, hoping to come up with some new spin on things.

But no matter how you look at it, theres no way they can go to the police without incriminating themselves. If not right away, then eventually.

Hang in there, Brynn. Fiona gives her hand a pat.

If Ca.s.sie would just call us back You did leave her a message on her cell phone voice mail, right?

Three.

I swear, I really cant take much more of this And Garth is going to be home in a couple of hours, and I dont know how Im going to keep this from Just calm down, will you? Fiona almost sounds like her take-charge self again.

Almost. But her green eyes are tinged with uncharacteristic trepidation.

Ca.s.sie said she was going to take off, remember? Fee goes on. And she told Alec the same thing.

That doesnt mean shes safe.

No, but we both know theres no reason for us to start panicking until we know for sure somethings happened to Stop! Brynn holds up a hand to cut her off. Dont even say it, Fee. I cant stand it.

Im sorry. Fiona takes a cigarette from her pack, toying with it for a moment before holding it up and asking Brynn hopefully, Can I?

G.o.d, no. The mere thought of smoke turns her stomach.

Fiona puts away the cigarette.

They fall silent again, listening to Caleb and Jeremy laughing together as they build a Lego city in the living room.

Brynn hugs herself, still quaking from her latest bathroom bout with nausea. This time, it has nothing at all to do with her pregnancy and everything to do with what she found inside the parcel left by her front door.

There was an identical one at Fees door.

Both packages contained framed copies of their sorority composite picture from ten years ago.

Four smiling faces are circled in thick black marker: Brynns, Fionas, Ca.s.sies, and Tildys.

And both Ca.s.sies and Tildys are crossed out with an ominous, blood-redX .

He was about to blackmail her to get the cash he needed to save his mothers house.

Deb is talking about Ray Wilmington and Matilda Harrington.

He admitted that in his suicide note? Quincy tilts the phone out from his ear so that Mike can hear, too.

He sure as h.e.l.l did admit it. And you know why?

Why, what?

Why he could blackmail her?

Quincy hates guessing games. Cut the c.r.a.p and tell me, Jackson.

Youre not going to believe this, Deb says again, obviously sitting on something thats going to blow the case wide-open, and relishing Quincys suspense.

Try me.

Because not only did he find out that Matilda Harrington was sneaking around with a married man Bingo,Quincy thinks.

but because of who that married man happens to be.

Wilmington knew who he was, then?

Everyoneknows who he is.

Deb pauses.

If Quincy was in a room with her, hed be tempted to collar her and shake her right about now.

Who is he, Jackson?

Deb announces almost gleefully, The holier-than-thou Republican governor whos supposed to be running for president; the one with the wife and triplets. Troy Allerson.

PART IV.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR FIONA.

CHAPTER 18.

Amazing, Brynn cant help but think as the month wears on, how daily life can whisk you along like a moving sidewalk.

Regardless of where your head and heart are, regardless of almost constant apprehension, you just keep moving forward physically, propelled through each day from dawn to dusk with almost disconcerting normalcy.

Its been over a week now since she got home from the Cape.

Over a week since both she and Fiona received that bone-chillingly altered composite sorority picture.

At least theyve both heard from Ca.s.sie since they said good-bye to her that Sat.u.r.day in Boston, when she said she was thinking of going into hiding.

Apparently, thats what shes done.

Shes sent a couple of rea.s.suring e-mails to Brynn and Fiona: Hi, guys, just wanted to let you know Im safe. Let me know that you are, too.Ca.s.sie Me again. Still hanging in there. Hoping to come home soon.Ca.s.sie Just checking in. Hope you guys are okay. Miss you.Ca.s.sie Brynn wrote back every time, telling Ca.s.sie that she and Fiona are fine.

But Tildy Tildy is gone.

Every time she thinks about what happened to her, Brynn wants to scream, cry, faint, vomit.

But, miraculously, she doesnt do any of those things Well, except vomit. Mostly in the mornings.

Garth has yet to catch on, though. For him, things seem to be status quo.

His flight was delayed several hours on Monday night because of a mechanical failure. There was trouble with one of the engines before takeoff; he called from the plane to say it was being repaired. Predictably, he was a nervous wrecktoo nervous, at least, to note any tension in Brynns voice.

By the time he got home late that night, she was asleep. She was dimly aware of him leaning over to kiss her, whispering, Im home, but she was too exhausted to fully wake up.

Nor did he stir when she woke to find him sleeping beside her in their bedjust before she ran to the bathroom.

The past week the Saddlers have resumed their usual routine: Garth coming and going from campus; Brynn carting the boys around, doing the housework, making meals.

All the while, she can think of little but that ominous picture she hid behind stacked sweaters on the top shelf in her closet.

But she cant do anything about it.

Unless she wants to risk upsetting the already precarious balance of her life.

And she doesnt dare. Not right now, anyway.

So, like Fiona, shes come to realize that theres simply nothing the two of them can do now.

Nothing but wait.

Feeling, every second, as though theyre playing out their lives in the crosshairs of an invisible rifle scope.

Thats it. Emily Youre fired.

What?

You heard me. Seated at her desk, Fiona waves her hand at the girl. Get your stuff and go.