“Harry yelled my name as he caught her limp body collapsing to the ground. When he looked up at me, all I could see was murder in his eyes. The gun fell from my numb hands. I didn’t move when he dove for it. Then I realized what he was doing, and I took a step backwards and then another. When he lifted the gun like an extension of his arm, I turned and dove toward the door. The pop of the gun sent a chill up my spine at the same time my shoulder connected with something—someone—as I tried to escape.”
“Nolan,” I whisper.
Nellie nods.
“I-I t-told him to w-wait in the c-car.” She sobs.
The two people who were meant to die that day, lived. I grab a tissue from her bedside table and hand it to her.
“And Bell?”
She shakes her head.
Nellie is responsible for someone dying. I hate that I know how that feels, but I do.
My name is Scarlet Stone, and I can’t remember ever feeling a connection to normal, well-adjusted people. My reflection has always been in the many faces of dysfunctional souls.
“Why does Nolan think you shot him?”
“Because that’s what Harry told him. Since Nolan didn’t remember much at all, it was easy to tell him what Harry told the police.”
“But you told Nolan it was a burglary at home. This didn’t happen at home.”
Nellie blots her eyes. “Money can buy just about anything. It bought…” She sniffles.
“The police.”
She nods.
“Clean up.”
She nods.
I feel nauseous.
“Whatever story you want?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “I killed the woman he loved, so he made me take the blame for Nolan, justice in a twisted tale.
“But you were declared insane.”
She shrugs, taking in a shaky breath. “I’ve seen a psychiatrist for years. Truthfully, Ididfeel like I was having a mental breakdown after they told us Nolan’s heart stopped beating on the operating table.ThatNellie… her heart stopped too. They brought Nolan back.Ididn’t want to come back. I was on suicide watch for weeks. Harry wanted me to be evaluated to determine if I was of sound mind.” Her eyes hold firm to mine, silently pleading for me to understand. “It was an out. A way to live without accountability.”
“How did you get your psychiatrist to declare you—” I know the answer before I ever finish the question. “Money,” I whisper. “All these years…”
“Crazy was just easier. And I had the lead in all the school plays. I can play any part.”
I shake my head. “The secondhand shopping… the coupons…”
“Harry didn’t grow up with money. Everything he owned was secondhand. Nothing was purchased without a coupon. He swore he’d never go back to that life. I wanted to prove him wrong.”
“It was an illusion.”
She laughs. “I know. I know about the women. I know he’s one man with me and another man the second he walks out of here. I know no one else sees the clothes I buy for him. I know he’s only here because of the money—my money. I also know that Nolan’s fear of me remembering something that he himself can’t remember is what has kept him from kicking his father’s philandering arse to the curb.”
I’m speechless.
“I’m observant. People talk over crazy people. They think I can’t hear them one room away.”
