Maurice told me to park the car and forced me out of it, the barrel of the gun pressed to my neck. The storm was more forceful now, the wind biting at my cheeks, bits of ice flying into my hair, my eyes.
“I didn’t mean to insult her,” I said. “Sky is tough and bright. That’s what I meant. Dylan couldn’t have done what she did because he isn’t either of those things.”
He marched me toward a room on the first floor, shoving me ahead of him as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Let me tell you something. Shooting Sky. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” he said. “I feel like I could shoot anybody after that, and it wouldn’t even faze me.”
“Great,” I whispered.
Inside the room, the lights were off. It was pitch-black, except for a tiny, muted TV—news about the storm. I read the caption on the screen:It’s expected to get worse.
“You brought her,” Sky said. “The great, soon-to-be-late Sunny Randall.”
Slowly my eyes began to adjust. Sky was on the bed with Dylan. He wasn’t moving, and I could smell him more than I could see him—a rank, rancid odor. He clearly hadn’t bathed in weeks. “Say hello to Sunny,” Sky said. She reached over and yanked something from his face. A gag.
Dylan screamed.“I thought I could trust you! I thought you were my friend!”
Sky got up on her knees and pressed something to his throat. “You want to wake the neighbors? Is that what you want?” She flicked on the light on the nightstand. My eyes ached. It took a while for them to adjust, different things coming into focus. Empty pizza cartons. Liquor and pill bottles scattered on the floor. The antithesis of Sky’s pristine apartment. I remembered that just yesterday Sky had called Dylan “kind of a slob,” and all the while, she’d been coming to visit him here, in this pigsty, feeding him, giving him drugs, recording his voice, framing him.
And now he’d clearly outlived his usefulness. When my eyes adjusted, I could see everything. Sky in the sweats I’d brought to the hospital, one arm in a sling, a hunting knife in her good hand. She was holding it to Dylan’s throat.
Dylan looked at me. “Sunny,” he said. “Can you tell me how Bella is?”
I swallowed hard. For the first time, I actually felt sorry for him. “She’s…she’s gone, Dylan.”
He started to shake, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Sky told me she was still alive. She said she could feel her pulse. She said she was bringing her to the hospital.”
“She didn’t make it,” said Sky, who had apparently dumped her in the river.
“I called you for help,” Dylan said. “I always called you for…for…”
“Maybe it’s time you learned to help yourself.” Sky said it without a hint of emotion. I remembered Trevor. The way she’d flatly referred to him as “that lab tech.”
Dylan started to cough. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I killed her,” he said. “I gave her those drugs and I…Bella brought me to urgent care, and I didn’t do that.” He looked at Sky. “You…you said you were going to take her to the hospital.”
“Enough talking,” Sky snapped.
I looked around the room. Tried to collect my thoughts. My gun was in my purse. My purse was in the MINI. Maurice had Dylan’s gun. But as far as I could tell, Sky’s only weapon was the hunting knife. And that shoulder and arm were a serious liability. For some reason, I thought of Spike.If only he’d taught me judo.
“Sunny complicates our story,” Sky said to Maurice. “If he just offs himself because he can’t handle the guilt…hmm. Maybe he kills her first?”
“That’s it,” Maurice said.
“Explain it to me like I’m five,” Sky said, the knife still at Dylan’s throat.
“Okay, kid. Here’s what we’re telling the cops,” Maurice said. “With my help and yours, Sunny here tracked Dylan down to this room. Rather than go back with her and face justice for the crimes he committed, he shot and killed Sunny, then he turned the gun on himself.” He looked at his daughter. “We survived. But it was traumatic. We’ll never be the same. But on the bright side, we’re heroes.”
“Good narrative,” Sky said. “I mean, if I killed two people and tried to murder my best friend, I’d probably want to end things, too. It’s believable.”
“It’s not what happened,” I said. “You’ll be living a lie.”
“Truth is just a matter of perception,” she said. “If you’re dead, you can’t perceive anything, so you don’t really have a say.”
“What about Dylan’s parents?” I said. “What about Lydia? Don’t you care about her at all?”
She gave me a sweet smile, the knife tight in her hand. “Lydia adores me,” Sky said. “I’m the daughter she never had. I’ll help her through this difficult time. I mean…if need be, I could even move in with them.”
My heart sank. I’d been suspicious about Sky for so long—but I hadn’t said a word about it to Lydia.
Sky glanced at Maurice. “I made Dylan’s audio confession this morning,” she said. “It’s moving, I think.”
