“Not with her.” Kiki’s eyes narrow to slits as she crosses her arms, digging her nails into the taut skin of her forearms. “I’m not going anywhere with her.”
Kai glances over at me, and I can see his resolve faltering.
“Please don’t leave me,” I beg.
My heart is lodged in my throat, threatening to make me sick for a second time as Kai looks between me and his sister. I wouldn’t blame him for running away. For putting as much distance between us as he possibly can. If I were in his shoes I’d probably run too. Who would trust a murderer’s daughter in a cabin soaked with blood?
But my foolish heart can’t help but hope that he sees the truth. That he sees the good in me, like he always has. He holds my gaze for what feels like hours—the contact only broken when Kiki attempts to tug him to the door again.
“We’re taking my car and getting out of here,” she states, pulling him the last of the way toward the front door.
But when she reaches the entryway table, she stops.
“Where the fuck are the keys?” Kiki chokes out, more to herself than to us. The bowl that once held all their keys is empty.
“I don’t—”
“Where thefuckare the keys?!” Kiki shouts before Kai can finish, pushing him aside and heading right for me again.
Just as Kiki storms toward me, a deafeningly loud knock shakes the entire cabin. Then another, and another. Kiki stops in her tracks and Kai stumbles away from the door as the knocking gets faster and faster before stopping entirely. In a brief moment of clarity, I turn around to the sliding door and lock it—but with a door made of glass, it won’t stand up very well in a fight.
And whoever is outside won’t wait long to find a way in.
Exhibit K: Fingerprint Analysis
A total of two sets of unique fingerprints were found on the axe collected from the scene at Albee Way, believed to be the murder weapon in the homicides of Carla Gutierrez and Timothy Gibson. The first set of fingerprints are confirmed to belong to Kai Thompson. The second, and more abundant set of fingerprints, are confirmed to belong to Dina Soto.
24
“What the fuck is that?!” Kiki shouts.
“Someone’s here,” Kai says, stating the obvious in an eerily calm voice.
Both of them are frozen in place, staring at the door with wide eyes and trembling hands, waiting for another knock, or a scream, or worse. But nothing comes. Whoever’s at the door doesn’t knock again. We all crane our necks for any sounds from the other side of the door—footsteps walking away, or maybe ragged breaths, but all I can hear is my own frantic heart.
When the silence isn’t broken by our unexpected visitor, Kiki pivots and breaks it herself. “You’re behind this,” she whispers as she turns on her heels to face me, eyes narrowing to slits. “Who is that?”
“I-I don’t—”
“Is it your dad?” she shouts loud enough that Kai flinches.
“My dad’s in jail,” I reply as calmly as I can.
“Then you sent someone else. One of his friends,” Kiki continues, rambling until she finds an explanation that makes sense. A way to pin the blame on me.
Papi doesn’t have any friends. None of us do, I think but don’t say out loud. Because it doesn’t matter. Nothing I say matters.Kiki has made up her mind about who’s responsible for whatever’s going on here tonight and nothing’s going to change that. Just like everyone else in this goddamn town. I’m guilty, no matter what.
“Kiki—” Kai’s protest is cut short by more pounding at the door, this time violent enough to make the sturdy wood tremble. Both of them yelp as they back away from the door, but I’m still stuck in place.
“That’s it,” Kiki mutters under her breath, pulling her eyes free from the door and marching straight toward me.
I’d forgotten about the abandoned knife on the ground until Kiki picks it back up, the metal glinting as she holds it up beside her shoulder. She’s not coming to attack me this time, though.
She has something else in mind.
“Kiki, what the f—”
“They won’t get us if we have her,” she announces before Kai can finish, reaching out to grab me by the arm.
