Aimee
“I killed Robin,” I said calmly. “And Angela. I saw Robin kiss you in the parking lot, and I found the love note Angela gave you.”
“But why? Why would you do that?” he asked, moving closer to me. He stopped midway across the room.
I rounded the table and stood a few feet away from him. “They were a threat to me. A threat to this beautiful life I created with you. I wouldn’t let them take you away from me. I’m supposed to be the center of your world, and I don’t share with anyone.”
Archie stared at me, his emotions tucked away, unreadable. But the vein on the right side of his neck pulsated, a physical indication of his surging anger. “So, you killed them? And what about Aunt Lou? You killed that sweet old woman for her money!”
Heat crept through my body, my burning inside fury, always present, mounted into an inferno at the disgusting, vile words he spat at me. I would never hurt Aunt Lou. Never! I didn’t kill her; it was an accident. I loved Aunt Lou.
I lunged at Archie, catching him by surprise, and pushed him down, his face going into the bowl of mashed potatoes. I eyed the serving knife, shiny, sharp steel, lying next to the roast beef platter. Archie jerked up, pushing me onto the floor.
“You killed all of these people!” he screamed. Mashed potatoes smeared across his face. He swiped it with his hand. His eyes gleamed with fury through the white substance.
I jumped up and ran around the table. “I did not kill Aunt Lou! Never say that again.”
“You expect me to believe that?” he roared, rounding the table behind me.
“I didn’t kill Nick either,” I screamed. “And I could have.”
“Fucking psycho.” Archie snatched the knife from the table.
I ran into the kitchen, reached into my back jeans pocket, and retrieved my handgun.
Archie charged me with the knife, but he stopped when I pointed the gun at him.
They always do.
“Oh, now you’re going to shoot me? How are you going to get away with that?”
A closet door squeaked open in the laundry room. I’d been expecting it. I had also expected the person waiting in there to join us. It certainly took him long enough. Relief shone in Archie’s eyes for a second, until he registered what the man was doing.
John Larabe stood on my side of the kitchen, dressed in his usual blue work shirt and giant belt buckle. He reached behind him and retrieved a handgun, then directed it at Archie.
“Probably self-defense, but I’m going to do it so she doesn’t have to worry about it.”
John pulled the trigger, and Archie collapsed to the ground.
SIXTY-ONE2024
Aimee
Archie’s death was ruled self-defense. John testified that he had stopped by that evening to see Archie and heard yelling inside the house. He had entered through the unlocked laundry door and saw Archie charging at me with a knife. He discharged his weapon, perfectly legal with his concealed carry permit, to defend me. I corroborated his story and also shared with the police that Archie had admitted to killing Angela. He became enraged when confronted with the note I found in his coat pocket from Angela. I got lucky with that one: The old note was still in the seldom worn coat pocket. He admitted to me that they were having an affair and he’d killed her. Of course, that was only hearsay, but he wasn’t around to say anything, so I had an advantage.
Dead.
So many dead.
Because of me.
I didn’t feel good about any of it, but I knew that I’d only done what I needed to do. I was a survivor, not only physically, but emotionally, too. I could have killed Archie, but I didn’t want to. Yes, he betrayed me, lied to me, and played games with me. He was avenging his sister’s death. I could understand that, even respect it. As a whole, he was a good person.
After John’s warning in his driveway I knew I had to act fast. The guy was going to destroy me. I needed to dangle something in front of him that he desperately wanted. Unfortunately, I couldn’t allow Archie to live, but I could have John do my dirty work.
Then I knew.
He wanted the farm. And that’s what he got.
John isn’t a good person. Nor am I, but at least I have a logic to my train of thought, an individual moral code. Conventional, perhaps not, but it makes sense to me. Sure, I tried shooting John while he was rabbit hunting. I went hunting all the time with my father and I’m an excellent shot. Who knew he’d be wearing a bulletproof vest though? Not a common practice for hunters.
John’s a grabber. He wants things, people, respect, not because he deserves it—he just wants it. He wanted Robin, despite her feelings about him. I could have taken care of Archie on my own, but this story was much more believable. I must give John credit; he saw me. The real me. Makes me wonder about his past, but I’m not that interested. He fulfilled his purpose, and he won’t bother me again.
Now that everything was settled with the police, tomorrow I would sign the papers giving the farm to John. A gesture of goodwill for saving my life. At least that’s what we’re telling people.
I finished packing my dishes and taped the box shut. My phone beeped as a text popped up. I saw who it was from and smiled. Raindrop, well her real name is Emma, sent me her new address in Malibu. I pressed to like the text.
We’d been talking lately and she asked me to come visit her and River, now Greg; they are both back to their given names. I’m flying out next week. I’ll be getting a new identity, thanks to Greg’s contacts, because one loose end still exists: Nick. I doubt he will seek me out; I gave him a chance and warned him it would be his last. He has a family and as much as he loved his brother and sister, I don’t think he will risk his own personal safety and that of his family to spill the truth on me. But I’m not taking any chances. I will be Charlotte Applewood. This name is special to me, as Charlotte was Aunt Lou’s middle name. A new beginning in a familiar place.
Back to California.
I live in the here and now.
EPILOGUE2011
David
The garage door was open and Kelsey stood inside waving me in. I pulled my car inside, killed the engine, and she hit the automatic garage opener, closing the door behind me.
