Her twin shakes his head a few times, as if trying to process what we heard. “Why was he so chill about it?”
“Oh my God,” she says again. “Poor Aunt Sarah. Can you imagine…?”
“He said she found out what he did. How did she find out?” A groove digs into Connor’s forehead. “And how do you stumble on a bombshell like that and not call the police?”
“Maybe she wanted to make sure her kid was safe first,” I offer weakly.
“Who cares about the kid!” Jasmine declares. “Whatever, I getit’s our cousin, but come on! You find out your husband murdered six women, you call the cops!”
“Do you think he confessed to her?” Connor muses. “Or maybe she found some clue lying around the house?”
“No way. I’ve been reading up on this case for weeks,” his twin counters. “Uncle Psycho wouldn’t have screwed up. He was so meticulous up until that point.”
“Okay, then how did Aunt Sarah know he was the Starling Slayer?”
That’s a question even I don’t have the answer to. Mom never told me how she found out, or what Dad even did. All she said that night wasDaddy did something terrible and now we have to go. Hurry, Gabby.My father didn’t provide answers either.
I swear to God, it was an accident.
His voice buzzes through my mind. His insistence that it was an accident. I’m not quite so sure.
Because that’s not all I hear in my head.
I won’t let you leave, Sarah. I won’t let my girls leave me.
I hear those words, even now, clear as day. He said them.
I remember his pleas. His desperation heightening, building into anger as he begged for her not to go. She was screaming at him. She called him a monster. When I imagine it, I see her hand shaking, the hand holding the gun. But Mom was too soft, too gentle. She never would’ve shot him. That’s why he’d lunged for the weapon. He felt safe enough to do that.
Dad insisted it went off during that struggle.
I didn’t see it. I’ll never know if he pulled the trigger intentionally or if it was an accident.
The front door suddenly opens, blowing in a gust of coolair. A harried Maggie walks in, juggling two bigJust Soldsigns along with a bag of groceries. “Con,” she calls toward the couch. “Come help your momma.”
Jasmine instantly closes her laptop. Good call. I highly doubt Maggie would be happy that we’re sitting around listening to Gabriel Thorn confess to murder.
As Connor carts the grocery bag to the kitchen, Maggie approaches the back of the couch to greet us. “Hiya, girls. What are you up to?”
“Watching football,” I say, at the same time Jasmine blurts out, “Nothing!”
Becausethat’snot suspicious. Also doesn’t help that my cousin has the poker face of a toddler who just stole from the cookie jar.
Maggie must have learned to pick her battles, because she simply shrugs and says, “Enjoy,” before joining Connor in the kitchen.
“I’m going to download this call,” Jasmine whispers to me, tucking her computer under her arm. “We can listen to it again later.”
Or…we could not.
As she disappears down the hall, my phone buzzes. I peer at the screen expecting to find a message from the group chat. My entire body turns to ice when I realize it’s not.
UNKNOWN:I know who you really are.
I stare at the message. No, theaccusation. How is it possible for six measly words to cut me right down to the core?
My heart is beating so fast that I can barely type. I feel weak, my thumbs shaking over the keyboard.
Me:Who is this?
