Begrudgingly, she stands. I follow her as she marches out of the room, down the hallway, and into the parlor. Constance raises her head immediately. Tries to sit up.
“Ava, please, I—”
“Don’t talk to me.” Ava turns her back on Constance and moseys to the bar, where she pours another stiff drink.
“I’m going outside to look for Preston and Damien,” I tell her. “They’ve been gone too long, and I’m worried they could be in danger.” My eyes flick over to Ava. “I want you both to stay here. Together. In case they come back.”
“I don’t understand. Why do you think they’re in danger?”
Ava averts her eyes and glugs her drink. My cheeks flush red. I choose my next words carefully. I can’t explain exactly what Damien is leveraging against me, only that he’s dangerous, a threat.
“Damien hasn’t been honest with us about who he is or why he’s here,” I say. “He’s up to something. I know it.”
“We think he pushed Marlowe,” Ava says, an attempt to support me. Constance shrivels, but at least she’s not asking any more questions.
It strikes me just how many secrets exist in this room. Ava doesn’t know Constance killed Marlowe; Constance doesn’t know I killed Oliver. If we can make it through this night without more bloodshed, it will be a miracle.
That thought disappears just as someone starts pounding against the front door.
“Ava? Tippi?” It’s Preston’s voice, loud and breathless. “Is anyone in there?”
I swing the door open. Preston leans against the house cradling his head. A trickle of blood trails down his cheek.
“My goodness,” Ava says, reaching for him immediately. “What happened?”
“Damien,” he says, stumbling into the parlor. “He attacked me out of nowhere.”
Constance lowers her leg to the floor, making room for him to slump beside her. Ava rushes across the room, retrieving the first aid kit they used earlier in the night. She comes back moments later with alcohol swabs.
“Tell me everything that happened,” I say.
“I went outside looking for him like you asked me,” he says. “It took me forever to find him. When I finally caught up, he was at the pond. I told him to come back to the house. Next thing I know, he’s hitting me over the head.”
“With what?” Constance asks.
“I don’t know. It was dark. Felt like a piece of plywood or a shovel. Why the fuck would he do that?”
“You were right.” Constance looks at me with tears in her eyes. “Damien is dangerous.”
“The plan hasn’t changed,” I say, exhaling. “I’m going to find him.”
“No!” Constance shouts.
At the same time, Ava says, “Are you crazy?”
I lock eyes with her, pleading. “I don’t have a choice.”
“Of course you do,” Preston says. “Wait for the police.”
But that gives Damien too much power. He’s already broken into my apartment. He’s blackmailing me. He attacked Preston. If I don’t talk to him before the police arrive, there’s no telling what he’ll do next, what he’ll say to them.
I reach into the pocket of my jacket and pull out Marmee’s gun. “I still have this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Preston says. “You can’t go out there alone.”
“He already attacked one of us,” Constance adds.
“I can handle this.” I raise the gun again, staring between Ava and Constance. An injured Preston still fights to catch his breath from the sofa. “Lock the door behind me.”
