Authors: Allison Brennan
He couldn’t see Lucy or Whitney, but Wade stood next to a sofa where an unconscious older female lay. There was blood on her head.
He silently went back up the stairs, gave Suzanne the information, then checked the rest of the floor for a second staircase. He thought in a house this big there’d be another way down, but there wasn’t.
He would have to take his chances.
THIRTY-THREE
Sean had seen only the art Whitney had drawn on the wall of the den, but Lucy saw that she’d been hard at work. Dozens of drawings were strewn around the room and taped on the walls. They were rough, hurried, and incomplete, without her usual meticulous attention to detail. These had a sharper, almost frantic texture to them. But the subject was still obvious: Wade Barnett.
Wade stood next to his unconscious mother lying on the couch. “Let’s do it, Whitney. Right now,” Wade said. “I have the money. We’ll go to Martha’s Vineyard. My family has a place there.”
Lucy had been watching Whitney carefully. She was using Dennis as a shield of sorts because Dennis was being compliant. She kept one hand on a shoulder, and used the gun to poke him when she wanted to make a point.
Whitney was on edge, but she wasn’t stupid.
“I saw the cops driving by, Wade. I told you not to call them! How could you betray me
again?
”
“I didn’t tell the police.”
“I don’t believe your lies anymore!” she screamed. Dennis jumped and she hit him with the gun. He cried, and urine seeped through his pants down to the floor.
Lucy saw the embarrassment and horror on Dennis’s face.
Whitney wrinkled her nose. “What is that smell?”
Dennis mumbled, “I’m sorry I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Denny,” Wade said, taking a step toward his brother before Whitney turned the gun on him.
“Stay right there!”
“Please let him go to his room. He’ll stay there, I promise.”
“Your promises mean shit!” Then her voice and face softened. “It’s going to be okay. I figured out the problem in our relationship. It was because on September thirteenth I told you I didn’t want to go to the Yankees game.”
Wade looked confused, but Lucy remembered the journal entry. It was from seventeen
months
ago. Whitney still remembered the exact day. Lucy had to get her to keep talking.
“I didn’t even see you in September,” Wade said.
“Yes, you did! No. The year before, remember?”
Wade’s face paled. “Yes, I remember.” Wade wasn’t a good liar. Whitney was going back and forth too fast, from angry to calm. Lucy needed to keep her calm. Dennis was sobbing, and it was clearly grating on Whitney.
Lucy asked, “What happened that day?”
“Wade said, ‘Let’s go to the Yankees game.’ And I said, ‘I don’t want to.’ And he was upset and we did what I wanted, but that’s where I went wrong.” She turned to Wade, suddenly looking the personification of innocence. “I’ll always go to the baseball games with you. That’s why you fucked Alanna, right? Because she liked baseball. But you don’t need her anymore because I love baseball. I know every stat of every player. Try me.”
“Whitney, I don’t—”
“Ask me a question!”
Lucy asked, “How many world series have the Yankees won?”
“Twenty-seven!” Whitney smiled. “The last one was 2009.”
“What number was Babe Ruth?” Lucy asked. She watched the gun in Whitney’s hand. That finger playing with the trigger made Lucy extremely nervous.
“Three!” Whitney said. “It’s retired. And Roger Maris was number nine. Reggie Jackson was forty-four, and—”
Wade interrupted her. “Okay, I believe you.”
Lucy shot him a look of frustration. There would have been nothing better than for Whitney to spend the next twenty minutes reciting baseball statistics.
Whitney frowned. “I’m so sorry.”
“I forgive you.”
“You don’t mean it.”
“Yes, I do,” Wade said, dripping with exaggerated sincerity. “I forgive you for everything. For the baseball game, for killing all those women—”
Lucy tried to cut him off. “Whitney, who’s the manager for the Yankees?”
But Whitney wasn’t listening to her. She said, “Women? You mean those druggy whores who thought they were better than me? They tricked you. You didn’t know better, didn’t realize they were witches casting a spell on you. The only way to break the spell was to get rid of them.”
Whitney said to Lucy, “Get me that bag.” She gestured to a duffel bag on the floor near the door. Lucy hadn’t noticed it before.
Lucy walked slowly over. Out of the corner of one eye she saw a flash of movement down that hall, then nothing. Sean? SWAT?
She bent and picked up the bag. It wasn’t heavy. She returned.
“Empty it out.”
Lucy unzipped the bag. Inside was a collection of mismatched shoes. Her stomach rolled as she turned the bag upside down and the shoes fell to the floor. Two spike heels, one black and one silver; two flip-flops, and a silver flat that matched the shoe on Sierra Hinkle’s foot.
“That’s what’s left of those bitches,” Whitney told Wade. “And you did it to them. You killed them.”
Wade was overcome at the evidence of Whitney’s crimes. “Whitney, what—why? Why did you kill them?”
“To save you.”
“Their shoes—you’re sick. You’re insane.”
Lucy tried to interrupt.
“Whitney, we can solve this now. Let’s talk about—”
It was as if Lucy hadn’t spoken. Whitney said to Wade, “I’m the only sane person here! I need you, we have to be together or I’m going to die.” She kicked the pile of shoes. “They walked all over you. Used you.”
Wade glanced at Lucy, eyes wide, at a loss for words.
Whitney’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you keep looking at
her
?” She waved the gun in Lucy’s direction. “How long have you been screwing her? Was she one of your
Party Girl
bimbos?”
“No, I never met her before today.”
“A one-night stand?”
“No!”
Mrs. Barnett moaned from the couch and tried to get up. Wade knelt by her. “Mom, it’s Wade. Are you okay?”
She didn’t respond, but her eyes were open and blinking.
Lucy turned to Whitney, easing her way between Whitney and Wade. Dennis was tracking her with his eyes. She wanted to reassure him, but there was nothing she could say.
“Whitney, you’re hurting inside, I can see it!”
She nodded. “I love him so much. I can’t think of anything but him. I breathe for him. I need him.”
“I see that.” Lucy thought back to the journals and the repeating themes she wrote about. They boiled down to one thing: need. Whitney’s sole focus was Wade, and she’d convinced herself that without him, she was no one. “Wade needs you. He’s been reckless and irresponsible without you.”
“I know. He was arrested for drunk driving, he lost his license, he even threw up outside the Yankees game during the playoffs last year.”
“You followed me there?” Wade exclaimed.
Lucy looked at Wade and whispered through clenched teeth, “Shut up!”
Whitney let go of Dennis, who fell to the floor. She took two steps toward Lucy and hit her on the side of the head with the gun. Lucy stumbled sideways and fell to the floor, her vision cloudy.
“Don’t tell him to shut up, you fucking bitch!”
Lucy tried to get up, but the pain made her nauseous. Blood from a head wound dripped to the floor. She lay back down to gather her strength.
Dennis cried out, “Lucy!”
Whitney pulled Dennis to his knees. She held the gun to the back of his head.
As her vision cleared, Lucy saw movement by the double doors. Dark blue Nikes. Sean. She focused on breathing to dull the pain. Blood dripped on the carpet, but even minor head wounds could bleed a lot. She didn’t think it was serious.
Whitney glared at her with fury. “This one’s like all the other witches you fucked. Are you fucking her, Wade?”
“No.”
Lucy slowly eased herself into a sitting position. Her vision started to clear.
“Whitney,” Wade said, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t see that you were suffering. How can I fix this? What can I do?”
“Love me!”
“Okay.”
“You’re lying!”
“What do you want from me? Whitney, give me a chance, I’m begging you! Put down the gun and I’ll make everything right.”
“You can’t! I knew you couldn’t love me if you had all those fucking sluts at your beck and call. They didn’t need you like I do. Please forgive me.”
Wade looked at Lucy again, lost and confused, and she nodded at him, hoping he understood she wanted him to continue to tell Whitney what she wanted to hear.
“I forgive—”
But Whitney had noticed the nonverbal exchange between Wade and Lucy, and she reddened, shaking with her rage. “You lied to me! You told me you didn’t know her!”
“I don’t. I met her today.”
Whitney hit Dennis. “Who is she? How do you know her?”
“Lucy,” Dennis squeaked.
“I’m okay,” she told him, sitting up and leaning against the desk.
“Tell me!”
“My name is Lucy Kincaid, I—”
“I didn’t ask you!”
Dennis said, “S-she’s a p-p-p-”
“Spit it out, you idiot.”
“I’m a private investigator,” Lucy said.
Whitney was confused and curious. Lucy hoped the police had a plan, because she was running out of ideas. She explained. “I came to New York looking for a runaway.”
She willed Wade to keep his mouth shut.
Whitney asked, “How do you know her, Dennis?”
Lucy shook her head slightly when Dennis looked at her. “I-I-I—forget.”
“You are such a retard! You’re the problem. Wade can’t commit to me because of
you
. His stupid brother. His can’t-do-shit idiot
brother!
” She hit him with the gun.
Wade took two steps and Whitney waved the gun at him. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Don’t hurt my brother!”
“Tell him to answer the question. Dennis, how do you know her?”
Dennis didn’t answer, and Lucy knew it was to protect her. She said, “I’m not a cop, but I’ve been helping the police.”
Whitney stared at her. “How?”
“I’m working with a private investigator, but I don’t have a license. I’m a criminal psychologist, helping the police.”
Whitney shook her head. “A shrink? You think you could analyze me? You think you know me?”
“Yes, I do.”
Whitney seemed intrigued as well as angry. Lucy hoped SWAT was in place, because she only saw this turning bad.
“Then tell me why I killed those girls.”
Whitney was issuing a challenge. Lucy said, “They had Wade’s attention so you killed them.”
“So simplistic. You don’t know me at all!”
Lucy continued quickly. “Because Wade went to bed with you after you killed Alanna, you thought he’d come back to you after you killed the others, too.”
Whitney turned to Wade. “You told her about that? You said you didn’t know her!”
“He didn’t tell me,” Lucy said, “I figured it out.”
“I don’t believe you!”
“You took the shoes, I think—” She didn’t know. Lucy didn’t understand why Whitney took the one shoe.
Whitney laughed. “You want to know why?”
“Yes, I do,” Lucy said.
“Because Alanna ran and lost her shoe. I didn’t notice, but when she was dead I had to get out of there. I found her shoe on the stairs and I didn’t want anyone looking for her. So I grabbed it and left. And then …” Her voice trailed off.
“You took the other shoes for what? Luck?”
“Yes, that’s right. No one even thought I killed Alanna. Wade made love to me. It was glorious. Heaven. So the next time I made sure to do it exactly the same way.”
“You killed your own cousin?” Wade said.
“She was a cheap, ugly, fucking slut.”
With a growl, Wade rushed her.
Whitney jerked toward him, surprised, and her finger clenched the trigger.
The bullet hit Wade in the stomach. Blood seeped through his shirt. He staggered back several steps.
Dennis cried out. He dove toward Whitney. She backhanded him and he fell, bleeding.
Whitney turned to Wade, eyes wide and wild. “No no no!” Whitney screamed. “I love you, Wade!”
“I hate you,” Wade said through clenched lips. “Go fuck yourself!”
She screamed and turned the gun on Dennis. “It’s your fault!”
Sean kicked in the door, gun out, drawing her attention—and her gun—away from everyone else in the room.
A window broke. Whitney’s body jerked twice.
A dark hole appeared in the back of her shirt, spreading until her whole back was a deep, dark red. Blood dribbled out the side of her mouth as she crumpled to the floor.
Silence descended as every eye in the room went to the body. It seemed to last for minutes, but when SWAT rushed the room, only seconds had passed.
“We need an ambulance!” Lucy yelled. “Wade was shot in the abdomen.”
Sean was at her side when she crawled over to Wade. Dennis took Wade’s hand. “You’re going to be okay,” Dennis said, repeating the mantra.
“Denny.” Wade coughed.
Sean ripped open Wade’s shirt and pressed his hands to the open wound. “Medics!” he called.
A SWAT guy knelt on one knee next to Lucy. He had a small medical bag and took out a thick pad of gauze and cotton. “I got it,” he said to Sean and took over the first aid.
“Paramedics are already on site waiting for us to clear the scene. Is there anyone else in the house?”
“No,” Sean said.
Lucy went over to Mrs. Barnett. “Where are you injured?”
“Head,” she whispered.
Lucy inspected the wound. The cut was dry and not bleeding anymore, but her graying hair was sticky with blood. “We have a head injury here, probable concussion.”
“Are you a doctor?” the SWAT medic asked.
“No, I’ve only had some first responder training.”
Sean stared at her. “I don’t think there’s anything you don’t know how to do.”
“You could have gotten yourself shot,” she said.
“But I didn’t.”
“Tell me you knew SWAT was in place.”
“I knew they were coming.”
Lucy let out a long, pent-up breath.
Sean frowned at the blood on her head. “You need medical attention.”
“I’m fine.” When he began to argue, she said, “Really. I just need to clean up.”
“Me, too.” He wiped his bloody hands on his khakis.
The paramedics brought in a stretcher and equipment. “Clear the room! Stat!”
Lucy pulled Dennis’s hand from Wade’s. “You have to let them do their job,” she said. “Come with me.” When Dennis didn’t move, she said, “Let’s get you cleaned up, Denny, okay?”