She reached out and grabbed Clara’s hand.
“Thank you for coming to save us,” she told her only friend.
She took the gun from Clara. Joyce didn’t have to fight against her wounds.
It fell from Clara’s grip with ease. Trust.
She couldn’t let anyone hurt Simon. If they went back to their life, Joyce could never be certain Clara wouldn’t try and do it again. That there wouldn’t be another misunderstanding.
She gave one last look at Clara. In her mind, she whispered those words she so rarely allowed herself to feel. I’m sorry, she thought.
In that moment of weakness, Simon grabbed the gun and shot Clara himself.
It was only through some strange law of physics that Joyce could hear the shouted commands of the police officers above her screams.
They’d seen everything. They’d seen her husband kill a woman in cold blood.
Just to get away from his wife.
EPILOGUE
Laura
Six Months Later
She was hungry. So very hungry.
All the time. She made herself a plate of cheese and crackers and sat down on the couch in their apartment. Rosie’s cousins would be home soon. Rosie was working today, but they’d have dinner together later.
The baby was kicking like crazy now. The doctor said she could go into labor at any point. Rosie wouldn’t let her drive by herself anymore.
It was a girl. Laura was going to name her Clara, in honor of the woman who helped save her and the baby. The doctors at the hospital said the sedative Clara gave her helped calm her body down and stop the contractions brought on by the explosion.
Laura couldn’t remember much from the rest of that night when her trailer burned down. She only remembered waking up in the hospital bed, with wires and tubes coming out of her, and Rosie sitting by her bedside.
“You’re okay.” It was the first thing out of Laura’s mouth when she saw her friend. In her dreams after the fire, she’d imagined her friend screaming for help. Calling her name from a dark abyss.
“I’m fine.” Rosie smiled. “How are you?” She reached out and held Laura’s hand.
It was over the next few hours that Rosie explained what she’d learned. Simon had been arrested. He confessed to killing Dermot, Susan, and Clara. It was hard for the police not to believe him about the other two deaths when an officer saw him pull the trigger at Clara.
After some explaining by the survivors of the fire, the police accepted the knowledge that Susan killed Trina. Four murders solved was a hard triumph to resist.
Laura didn’t tell Rosie the truth about Dermot. She’d never tell her.
Laura rubbed her swollen, pregnant belly. She had another life to worry about. Who needed her.
A small part of her loved Simon for his sacrifice.
And in her darker days since everything that happened, a more than small part hated herself.
Addy had been in the hospital room next to Laura’s. The doctors sent her home only a few days later. Apparently, Simon had done a good job cleaning her up in the trailer with the sewing kit Laura gave him. Addy lived with her parents now. Laura messaged her a few times over Facebook. She said she was in therapy.
Laura wasn’t sure if Addy knew about Dermot and how he died. Addy may have been unconscious when they had that conversation in the trailer. She might not have been. Laura was only certain Addy was grateful Laura pulled her from the trailer when the fire started. Addy had messaged her every day to say thank you, until Laura explained it would be better if she stopped. It was upsetting to be reminded again and again of the fire, and everything that happened before and after. Addy should move on with her life, and Laura needed to. The baby would be here soon.
Laura came home from the hospital around the same time Addy did.
Well, not home. Her home was gone. She came to live with Rosie.
Laura finished her snack and stood up to put her dishes in the sink.
Simon was in the county jail still awaiting trial. Rosie said he’d refused having a lawyer and insisted on representing himself. He wouldn’t see Joyce and refused all her visits.
If there was one thing Laura had learned from all the death in her life, but especially in the last year, it was that love wasn’t simple. Especially when it was the killing kind.
There was a knock on the door. Laura assumed it was a package being delivered. She’d been ordering a few things to get ready for the baby.
Just simple things. Onesies and bottles and a stroller.
Laura opened the door.
Joyce stood in front of her. Laura hadn’t seen her since the night at the trailer. Joyce was discharged from the hospital well before Laura was ready, and they’d been called as separate witnesses on different days for the preliminary hearings for Simon’s trial.
Laura had hoped she’d never see Joyce again.
The two women stared at each other.
Joyce held a large basket wrapped in cellophane in her arms. She looked thin. Too thin. Ragged around her polished edges.
There was lipstick on her teeth.
“You look radiant,” Joyce announced, sauntering into the apartment. “I heard through the grapevine you were having a girl.”
Laura stared at her in disbelief.
“Close the door,” Joyce motioned to the apartment’s entrance. “We have a lot to talk about.”
Laura stared out into the hallway, but it was deserted.
She thought about what had been said in the trailer. What Joyce could tell the police if she wanted to. Laura remembered the feeling of Dermot’s shoulders as she pushed him onto the shards of the champagne bottle.
She closed the door and sat down next to Joyce.
The baby kicked inside, and Laura reflexively put her hand up to it.
“Oh, can I feel?” Joyce asked. “It’s amazing how having that huge empty house of mine has encouraged me to think more about family.”
“What?” Laura said. Joyce reached out and touched Laura’s stomach.
