Live to Tell - Lisa Gardner [115]
Then, just as quickly as my aunt had slapped me, she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight. I didn’t pull away. I could only surrender to her, my aunt, my mother. Things got so blurred with the passage of time.
“I love you,” my aunt whispered against my cheek. “Dear God, Danielle, you are the best thing that ever happened to me, even when you break my heart.”
“I want them back.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“I can’t picture them anymore. I see only you.”
“You don’t have to see them, Danielle. Just feel them in your heart.”
“I can’t,” I protested. “It hurts too much. Twenty-five years later, it aches.”
“Then feel the pain. No one ever said family didn’t hurt.”
But I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Instead I was in the bedroom again, handing the gun over to my mother. Trusting the woman with my aunt’s eyes to make everything all right.
“Go to bed, sweetheart,” she’d whispered. “Quick. Before he sees you. I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”
My mother taking the gun. My mother setting it carefully on the nightstand. Where the clock read …
I froze. Caught the scene in my head, forced it to rewind. My mother, placing the gun in front of her digital clock, red numbers glowing 10:23 p.m. Myself, scurrying down the hall toward bed, where I pulled the covers over my head and blocked out the rest.
10:23 p.m. I’d talked to my mother at 10:23 p.m.
But according to the police report, my family didn’t die until after one a.m., at least two and half hours later.
I pulled away from my aunt. “I need to go.”
“Danielle—”
“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but you’re right. Someday, it will be. I love you, Aunt Helen. Even when I’m a bitch, I know how lucky I am to have you.”
“Tomorrow,” she said, still holding my hands, “we’ll go together.”
“Tomorrow,” I agreed. Now I pulled my hands free and made my way toward the door, frantic to get out of her house.
I hit the driveway, already punching numbers on my cell phone as I ran for my car. All these years later, I didn’t know his number, so I did the sensible thing and dialed the sheriff’s office. Then, the second I got someone on the phone: “I’m looking for Sheriff Wayne. My name is Danielle Burton and I need to speak with him immediately.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY
Blood. D.D. noticed it first in the common area. It splattered across one table, dotted a nearby wall, then trailed down the carpeted hall.
“Jesus Christ,” D.D. breathed. She’d been wrong. They didn’t have until six p.m. The evildoer had already struck, while she’d been chattering away in Admin. Shit.
“The kids,” Karen exclaimed immediately. “Where are the kids?”
Just then, another rage-filled scream, high and piercing from down the hall: “No, no, no. Get away. I will kill you. I will EAT YOUR EYEBALLS!”
D.D. and Karen bolted toward the sound, making it partly down the hall before drawing up short. A bathroom loomed to the right. The door was open and an older girl with huge dark eyes and lank brown hair stood in front of the sink, holding a pair of scissors and dripping blood. Outside the bathroom, an older MC was positioned with his hands outstretched, as if to block the girl’s escape.
“Don’t fucking touch me! I’ll punch you in the nuts. I’ll rip off your penis!” The shrieks continued farther down the hall. D.D. shook her head in confusion. So far, she heard one extremely pissed-off young boy, and she saw one very bloody young girl. What the hell?
“Come on, Aimee,” the MC was crooning as D.D. and Karen approached. “Time to hand over the scissors. Everything’s all right. Just take a deep breath and put the scissors down. Nothing we can’t handle here, right? You and me, a few of your favorite coloring books—”
“I WILL DRINK YOUR BLOOD!” the distant boy roared.
Aimee held up her left arm and, deliberately, dragged the blade of the scissors down her forearm. A thin line of red bloomed across