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“Thought you were in desperate need of using the bathroom?” William asked, now behind her.
She looked over a shoulder at him. “Oh, I’ve held it this long. A bit more shouldn’t hurt.” There was something strange to the energy in the room. It felt entirely off. But she still needed to get a grip on the situation and what it was telling her. The professor was acting suspicious. Had he acted alone or were the murders a family affair?
Stephanie was looking at her as if waiting for Amanda to speak.
Amanda looked around, and saw no place to sit. She positioned herself so she was at the side of the greenhouse—to her right was the house, Trent, Stephanie, and Leah, and to her left was the professor. “It might be easier if we sat down,” she said, directing this to Stephanie, but she saw the mother’s face.
It was just a glimmer of a glance, so minuscule it would have been easy to miss, but Leah appeared to be looking in her husband’s direction. Amanda turned to him, to Leah, back to him. Their eyes were locked on each other’s, and something had been communicated between them.
She turned again to Leah and watched in horror as the woman snatched Trent’s service weapon from his holster. It all happened so quickly.
Leah nudged Trent into the greenhouse. He met Amanda’s gaze, and his face was pale, his features shadowed with fear. Leah held the gun on him, but Amanda had drawn her gun too. She kept it pointed on Leah and glanced back at the professor.
He was holding a knife on her—in his left hand—and the tip was missing. Had he killed Chloe Somner and Jayne Russell with this blade?
“Mom! Bill! What are you doing?” Stephanie was screaming hysterically.
“Get out of here, Steph! Go to your room!” William barked.
Stephanie jumped at his voice but stayed put. “What are you doing?” she wailed.
“We’re not letting you accuse my little girl of murder.” Leah ignored her daughter’s question, and her hold on the gun was uneasy, her hand shaking.
Amanda met Trent’s concerned gaze as she tried to piece it all together. Had Leah conspired with her husband or was she simply aware of what he’d done and was determined to protect him? There was also the matter of motive—something that could wait considering the weapons in her and Trent’s faces.
“We’re not accusing any—” The blunt end of the blade pressed to her neck had her shutting up.
“Of course you are. That’s why you’re here. The police don’t stop by for friendly chitchat. Not without an agenda.” Considering he was holding one cop at knifepoint, and his wife across the room was holding a service weapon on them, he was speaking in a level tone, calm, surrendered.
Motive? She wasscreaming the question in her head now, hoping it would net an answer. “We just wanted to talk with her.” Amanda grunted as the blade dug into her flesh enough that she felt the warmth of blood trickle down her neck. Her gun was still in her hand, but she might as well be unarmed for its current usefulness.
“Bullshit. I’m not going to let you hurt her and put her through more grief,” he spat and tapped his hand against his leg seven times.
The same number of stab wounds. Rideout had mentioned the killer might have OCD.
“You’re hurting her this minute by your actions.”
“I’m—we’re—protecting her. That’s a father’s job.”
She’d have done almost anything to protect Lindsey, and now Zoe. Had he seen Chloe and Jayne as a threat to his stepdaughter? Had that been all it took to push the professor to murder—twice? “But you couldn’t, could you?” she challenged him. “You couldn’t protect her. Not from the kids at school. Not from Chloe or Jayne. You were powerless to do anything about them. Until you came up with an idea.”
“Shut up. Now.”
“Bill, is that true?” Stephanie was crying as she spoke.
The professor was trembling beside Amanda.
“Did you kill them?” The question tore from Stephanie as a piercing, high-pitched squeal.
“I… I didn’t have a choice, sweetheart.” His voice was gravelly. Again, he tapped a hand to his thigh seven times. “Chloe treated you like shit! She took everything from you! I saw how hard you worked, and she just stepped all over you.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Stephanie snapped. “Yes, she beat me at a lot of things, but she only made me want to do better. She challenged me.”
“But the way you’d go to your room and cry over her.”
It sounded like he was trying to get his stepdaughter to understand why he had to murder Chloe and to accept his reasons, but Stephanie was shaking her head as angry tears fell. The professor had also underplayed Stephanie’s reaction when they’d interviewed him. He’d said that she sulked but got over it.
“Did you kill Jayne too?” Stephanie asked.
“She was just as bad, always making you feel like you were nothing. Both of them were mean girls, honey. And Jayne couldn’t even be loyal to her best friend, Chloe. I saw her kissing Josh.”
“They broke up. And don’t call me honey!”
William must have sent the text! If he’d seen Jayne and Josh together, that explained his gamble that Jayne would respond favorably to Josh’s text. His observations would also have meant he knew Jayne liked being next to the river on campus.
“And maybe they couldn’t help it. Chloe anyway. Her dad is a corporate asshole.”
“So what?” Stephanie pulled on her hair and stepped back, regarded her mother. “And, Mom… did you know he did this? That he killed them?”
“He did it for you, Steph.”
“Mom.” One word, a strangled expression. Life as Stephanie had known it was shattered. She pulled out her phone. “I’m calling nine-one-one.”
“Don’t.” William’s firm tone had Stephanie’s attention. The blade had Amanda’s. He’d pushed it in a little deeper. “If you do, I’ll kill her. And your mom… well, she’ll kill him.”
Stephanie’s eyes widened. “Stop. Leave them alone.”
“Go to your room,” Leah barked at her daughter.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She crossed her arms.
During this time, Amanda and Trent kept catching each other’s eyes, trying to silently communicate their next move and how to deescalate the situation. They needed just the crack of an opening.
Amanda considered her next words carefully. If she asked them what sort of outcome they expected here, it could help the McMillans see there would be no positive one for them. The flipside was it would encourage—and challenge—them to think about just how they would get away with murder… again. “Why the black orchid?” Maybe something unexpected could buy her and Trent an opportunity. So far, she still had her gun, but the odds were against her unless something changed the dynamics.
“Why not? What does it matter?” William scrunched up his face.
