“Stop talking to me like that! Like you can control how I react!” she shouts. “There’s no justification for what you’re doing. Running away from your problems, hurting all of us in the process.”
“I’m not—”
“When the police arrive, I’m telling them everything. You can’t stop me.” She spins around, rushing into the hallway.
“Ava, wait!” Preston grabs the bag of jewelry and chases after her, jerking on my wrist for me to follow. We thunder down the grand staircase, Ava leading the way. She almost makes it to the front door.
A cracking boom forces us all to freeze. A gunshot. The bullet zips past us, shattering the mirror in the foyer. Shards of glass shower around us as someone yells, “Stop!”
But it isn’t Preston. He cowers behind me, the weapon still at his side.
It’s Constance I see guarding the front door, the barrel of her gun pointed right at us.
43
It’s a peculiar sight,seeing Constance in her vintage dress, massive baby bump, trembling hands clenched around the gun. Who is she even pointing it at? I’m not sure. Ava? Me? All of us?
“Constance, what are you doing?” Ava says, chest heaving from the shock of the gunshot.
“I heard arguing. I thought Damien found a way inside the house,” Constance says, swaying from side to side. “What are the three of you doing?”
“Where did you get that gun?” Preston asks.
“I gave it to her when I went upstairs.” Ava swallows hard. “In case Damien returned.”
I’d told Ava about the location of the second gun to protect her. She doesn’t know what Constance is capable of, that’s she’s already killed one friend tonight.
“You almost shot me!” Ava shouts.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Constance says. It’s an order.
Preston, Ava, and I trade glances. None of us knows where to start.
“Preston is stealing from Tippi,” Ava says, at last. “When I went upstairs, he had her at gunpoint, forcing her to empty Evelyn’s safe.”
Constance’s expression screws up with confusion. She looks at Preston. “What?”
“There’s a reason—” Preston starts, but Ava won’t let him finish.
“Please.” She cuts her eyes at him. “I’d love to hear it all again.”
Constance stares at Preston, waiting. He’s confronted with three women, each of whom he tried to sell a different story. Now that we’re all in front of him together, I can see that he doesn’t know which narrative to spin.
“I haven’t been happy for a long time. You know that,” Preston says to Constance, lowering the gun to his side. “I finally found what I need to make me happy. I just need a little help getting started.”
“Why don’t you get a job, Preston? Get a divorce. Take some kind of action,” Ava spits. “Instead of having an affair and stealing from your friends.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like—”
“What’s so hard to understand?” Ava asks. “Life didn’t work out the way you planned? People would kill for the life you have, and all you do is go around taking from others. It’s never enough.”
“Shut up!” Constance shouts at Ava. The angst in her voice, the way she rattles the gun, reignites my alarm. When Ava said people would kill for the life Preston has, she didn’t realize how right she was. She doesn’t know Constance has already killed in an attempt to protect her fantasy. Neither of us are safe if she deems us a threat to her plan.
Constance steps closer and says, “Preston, let’s go.”
“Go where?” Preston says. “The police—”
“I don’t care about the police!” Constance shouts. “You’re doing this for us. We have to get out of here.”
