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“I’m going to take a look at his wounds,” Kit says to me. “Then I’ll come back in and get what I can. If anything happens, don’t come out after me.”
“That better not apply to me,” Jayla says. “Because if anything happens, I sure as hell am going out after you.”
He manages a weak smile. “Oh, I’m counting on it. But Laney stays with Madison.”
“Agreed,” Jayla says.
I don’t answer. He’s right, and I will stay here for Madison, but there’s no way of saying that without sounding as if every fiber in me wouldn’t be screaming to help him.
As Kit unlocks the door, my gaze slides to Garrett. I see the first-aid book and remember that’s what I’d been going for. It’ll have to wait. I won’t leave Madison’s side—no matter what—but nor can I start leafing through a book while Kit is outside.
Kit closes the door.
“Don’t lock it,” I say.
“I wasn’t going to,” Jayla says.
“I meant don’t let Kit lock it.”
Kit lifts a hand, clearly hearing me. Once his back is turned away, Jayla eases the door open a half inch, and I’m sure not arguing with that. She needs to be ready in case anything happens.
Garrett sees Kit coming, as if spotting his reflection. His head swivels to watch. He says something I don’t hear, and Kit replies.
Kit continues talking, something reassuring, as he very slowly approaches Garrett, tensed for trouble. When Garrett’s head shoots up, Kit freezes and Jayla shoves the door open. But Garrett doesn’t move. His gaze is fixed on something to his right. A figure on the deck stairs.
“Kit!” I shout.
Kit backpedals toward the door. Then he stops. The figure continues up the stairs, but I can’t see more than a dim shape in the twilight. My brain insists that’s wrong. There’s a motion-detecting light thatshould be turning on and illuminating the figure. But that light stays off, and the figure keeps climbing.
“Laney?” Jayla says. “Are you seeing…?”
She trails off, as if she can’t bring herself to finish. I am seeing it. Sadie is at the top of the stairs. Except it’s not broken Sadie, ruined Sadie. It’s Sadie as she’d looked last night, in her perfectly clean sweatshirt and yoga pants, her blond hair swept back.
The figure stretches one hand toward Kit.
“Kit!” I shout.
Jayla reaches to yank Kit inside, but he’s already dashing through. He grabs the door, slams it, and locks it.
Outside the window, the figure stays poised at the top of the deck stairs, on the edge, bedecked in shadows that seem to swirl around her. She’s still reaching out, but now her hand is extended toward Garrett, who’s on his feet.
Garrett is on his feet, one hand clenched to his stomach, holding in his intestines, the other outstretched to his sister. To this vision of his sister, whole and smiling and reaching for him.
“No!” I shout. “Garrett! It’s not her!”
Kit bangs on the glass to get Garrett’s attention. Jayla shouts for him to snap the fuck out of it, to see that it’s obviously not Sadie.
The figure turns and heads back down the deck stairs. Garrett lurches after her. I run halfway to the door before stopping myself.
We all shout for Garrett. Jayla and Kit smack the window. Garrett doesn’t hear us. He doesn’t care.
There is nothing we can do.
No, strike that. Face the truth. The ugly truth. There is nothing wewilldo, and it isn’t about Garrett or what he did to me or whether he’d help any of us. It is about Madison.
I will not open that door. I will not let Kit or Jayla risk their lives going out to stop Garrett, and I will not take a chance of letting something in this house with Madison. That door isn’t opening again until help arrives.
I’m sorry, Garrett. I am truly sorry, and I only hope our daughter forgives us for what I am doing. I tried to help you. But you are going to follow that wraith of your sister wherever she leads, and it makes you an amazing brother, but it also means that I need to let you choose that path and not drag anyone along with you.
