“Can you not be so rough!”
“Sorry,” I mumble, feeling a pang of remorse as I finally drop the clothes to the floor. “I’m trying not to.” I stare at the ankle, which is only slightly bruised now. “When did you say this happened?”
“A week ago,” she mutters, tossing her shirt down to the floor. “Help me into the bath please.”
I don’t say anything more about it and stand to my feet, reaching out and helping my mom limp and groan her way to the bathtub. I help her sit on the edge of the tub, and then swing her legs into the water.
“Dear God, Rue!” Her tone is shrill. “This is so hot!”
My shoulders fall as a sigh escapes my lips. “You said to make it warm…”
“Warmnot scalding,” she snaps, reaching over with her good hand to twist the handle all the way to cold.
“Sorry,” I mutter under my breath. There’s a moment of childlike defeat that settles in my chest, but I distract myself by grabbing the towel from the rack. “Do you want me to warm this up in the dryer for you?”
She makes a face at me. “That’s a waste of electricity.”
“Right.” I drop the lid of the toilet down and drop the towel down on top of it. I almost apologize again but stop myself.
“I need my body wash,” Mom huffs, leaning back. “And to be left alone to soak.”
I give her a nod, sighing as I exit the bathroom and head back down the hall.
And that’s when I feel it. A draft.
What the hell?I scan the house, trying to place the origin of it. The front door is shut, and so I head into the kitchen,grabbing the lavender soap out of the paper bag. As I raise it up, I shiver.
Where is that coming from?My brow furrows as I slip through the room, making my way to the utility room. I peer into the mudroom, and frown.
The door is wide open. I stare into the mangled backyard, squinting.
And then someone sneezes behind me.
A yelp escapes from my throat as I spin around, stumbling backward and nailing my shoulder into the doorframe as I’m met with bright little dog eyes. “What the hell! Bullet, youhaveto stop?—”
My voice dies in my throat as I register thethingattached to his collar.
I lean down and pluck the rabbit’s foot, still caked in blood, attached with paracord to his collar. As I roll the foot over in my hands, my eyes catch the dark writing scrawled across it.
M U R D E R E R
10
NOAH
The lookon her face is fucking priceless.
A grin stretches across my face as she drops the bloody foot, her face growing ghastly pale. I keep my back shoved against the bar wall adjacent to her and watch as Rue struggles to regain any sense of calmness. A strangled noise comes from her throat, and I tilt my head, wondering if she might pass out.
Poor thing. It’s so hard to carry all those secrets.
“What the fuck,” she whispers, her eyes shifting to the open laundry room door. She jumps to her feet, and then rushes toward it, slamming it closed and sliding the deadbolt.
I smile to myself.Oh Rue, you can’t keep someone out who’s already inside.
Still, I stay crouched and watch her as she delicately plucks the damn foot up from the floor and stares at it for a beat or two longer.
She takes a pained deep breath in, and then tosses the foot into the trash. “You need to quit murdering rabbits,” Rue says to Bullet, her voice an eerie kind of quiet, as she starts the water in the sink. I raise my brow at the blame shift.
