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“He was so angry,” I murmured in a daze. “So like Mother.”
“Could they be related? A cousin or something?”
“I don’t think so. But, maybe?”
“If they have matching tempers, can you imagine the argument you missed?” She released a heavy exhalation. “Didn’t she throw a vase at your dad the last time they argued?”
I nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “He moved out the next day.”
Mother hadn’t hurt the biker—I’d seen no sign of injury on his person.
Had the stranger who shared my features hurther?
“Your mom could piss off a Buddhist monk.”
I had to snort. “And make a saint pull out their hair.”
My brain whirred as Sarah demanded, “It’s one thing for someone who looksandacts like Miss American Bitchface to come racing out of your house, but bikers? And, why were the Charlie Hunnam and Grandad-impostors at your place?”
“How should I know?”
“Are you safe, Mary Catherine? Should I call the cops?”
I rubbed my forehead. “No! They’ve gone now. You heard their bikes.”
I wasn’t sure why I did it, had no real idea what made me retrace my steps to the bus stop, but my body took control of the situation for me.
“It’s taking you a while to get to the house,” Sarah said dubiously. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not going inside. Yet.”
“Huh. Why not?”
Could I tell her?
ShouldI?
“You know I hate her.”
“She’s a bitch. Everyone hates her,” was Sarah’s dismissive retort. “I bet God hates her too.”
I ignored that. “What if he killed her?” Sarah fell silent so I continued, “You didn’t see his face—”
“Because you didn’t take a picture.”
“No, it was Grandad, not Charlie. Grandad-guy was furious, Sarah. Honestly, just like how Mother gets.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Maybe he killed her,” I said in a rush.
“I think that’s wishful thinking, Mary Catherine,” was my best friend’s dubious yet judgment-free response. “Everyone wants our bullies to drop dead, but no matter how hard we pray, it never comes true. Elizabeth Ferrier would have died five years ago if that were the case.”
I grimaced because she was right, but how often did anyone from a group called the ‘Satan’s Sinners’ come to Westchester?
Maybe it was my lucky day.
“So, what? You’re taking the long route home so that if she’s in the middle of croaking it, you can’t fuck things up by saving her?”
