Chapter Sixty-Three

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

I don't let go of Rose even after I run back into the house. I carry her with me as I lock the back door and search for a landline phone. I find it tucked behind a fruit bowl on the counter.

I dial 9–1–1 and gasp out the Barclays' address, telling them Tina de la Cruz's death wasn't an accident.

"Harriet Barclay tried to hit Tina with her cane and Tina fell through the window," I say, knowing I'm on a recorded line. "And I think Harriet was going to kill me tonight."

When I hear a loud bang on the kitchen door, I recoil as if it's a gunshot. But I don't let go of Rose.

Instead, my grip on her tightens as I twist, putting my body between her and any danger.

"I've got you," I promise her as I set down the phone receiver, keeping the 9–1–1 line open. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

Ian is standing there, his features twisted in worry and confusion.

I run toward the door, my hand reaching for the lock. Then, limping up out of the darkness behind him, I see Harriet.

She isn't wielding her Taser now. She's using a stick as a makeshift cane, and blood still stains her face and powder-blue sweatshirt. She looks like an injured, feeble grandma; she's superimposed that persona over herself like a Halloween costume.

"What's happening?" Ian shouts, his voice slightly muffled by the plexiglass. "Stella, what's going on?"

I point behind him. He swivels and sees Harriet. Her lips move as she begins to spin a story, filling Ian's ears, using her formidable cunning and deception.

She speaks too softly for me to hear, but Ian is listening intently to her.

Does he believe her? Is Harriet convincing him I'm the one who is a threat to Rose?

"Don't listen to her!" I shout. "She's lying! She lied about everything!"

"Please, Ian…" Harriet's voice lowers as she leans closer to her son.

"Harriet is responsible for Tina's death!" I scream, trying to drown out her words. "And she's been pinning it on Rose!"

Harriet shakes her head sorrowfully.

"Rose, honey? Come over here and let us in," Harriet calls.

Ian looks back and forth from me to Harriet. I can see it in his eyes; he doesn't know who to believe. She's his mother; he's only known me for a short time. How could she do the horrible things I'm accusing her of?

Then he does something that makes my heart stutter. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys.

I back away, keeping my eyes on Harriet.

Ian fits a key into the lock, the small scraping noise magnified by the silence.

Rose lifts her head. For the first time ever, I hear her make a noise.

She releases a wail—high-pitched and keening. It goes on and on, seeming to spiral up out of her very soul. She's pointing at Harriet through the layer of plexiglass and shrieking as if she's seen the devil.

Ian stares at Rose, his eyes widening. Then he follows the direction of Rose's finger and turns to look at Harriet.

"Stop it, Rose! You just need some rest!" Harriet yells. "Ian, let me in and I'll put her to bed!"

Rose's shriek intensifies. She is in the throes of primal terror. And there's no mistaking the source: She's still staring straight at Harriet, who is rattling the door, trying to get in.

"No, Mom!" Ian shouts. "Wait!" But Harriet doesn't stop. She roughly bumps Ian aside and wrestles with the key in the lock.

Ian forces himself back in front of the door, shoving Harriet away. Then he opens the back door, yanks the key out, jumps inside, and slams and locks the door, sealing Harriet outside.

Rose's shriek subsides. Her breath comes in loud, hiccuppy gulps as she collapses against me.

"What's going on?" Ian shouts. His head jerks as he spots the blood on the floor by the elevator. He looks at Rose, scanning her for an injury, his arms reaching out for her. "Who hurt you, Rose? Stella or Harriet? Can you point to who it is?"

"It's Harriet's blood, not Rose's," I tell him. "I hit her with her cane after she used a Taser on me."

He stares at me, stunned. "My mother did what?"

I say the words he needs to hear: "Your mother was responsible for Tina's death. And she doesn't need a cane because her knee is fine."

He shakes his head. "No, no, that isn't possible. My mother didn't kill Tina. None of this is possible. Her knee is bad; she can't even make it up to the attic. She saw two surgeons after her operation failed."

"Did you ever hear her diagnosis firsthand from a doctor? Or did you just believe what Harriet told you?"

Ian falls silent, his widening eyes telling me the answer.

"Rose never hurt anyone, least of all Tina," I say. "But Harriet made everyone think she might have in order to deflect suspicion from herself."

Ian staggers forward and grabs the edge of the island. His face turns pale.

I see the comprehension hammer into him. He knows every word I've said is true; he heard it in Rose's scream.

In the distance, I hear approaching sirens.

Rose's breaths are steady and warm against my collarbone now. Her breathing slows until it matches mine, our systems syncing with each other's.