“I’m fine.” How does she feel?
She feels free.
She feels alive.
She feels safe, at last.
Her heart pounds but it’s a fierce, triumphant drumbeat.
The feeling doesn’t last, though. The implication of what she’s done crashes over her head like a tidal wave. “Oh my God. We need to call 911.”
Elijah puts his hand over her sticky one. “No one has to know,” he says, quietly.
Because she trusts him, she swallows and nods. “Yes. No one has to know.”
And then they hear the rumble of Caleb’s truck outside.
Sarah and Elijah stare at each other. There’s no way they can hide Ben’s body and clean up the parlor in time.
The front door opens. “Hey Elijah, whose car is?—”
Time stops. Every heartbeat is a thunderclap, each breath an explosion. Sarah feels every splash of blood sliding down her hair, soaking into her clothes, congealing on her skin. Elijah’s breath shudders, wet and labored.
“Elijah,” Caleb says, slowly. “Elijah, what did you do?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Sarah, are you all right?” Caleb asks.
“It’s not her blood,” Elijah says. He steps to the side, revealing their uninvited guest. Ben stares up at the stag’s head, his mouth gaping as if he’s about to comment on it. There’s blood everywhere. Pooled on the sofa and the floor, splattered across the walls and tables. Sarah smells it cooking on the radiator. There’s even a little splash on the stag’s mouth, making it look feral.
Only dead things in this room, Sarah thinks, a tremor starting to ripple in her gut.
“Who’s that?” Caleb demands.
“It’s Ben,” Sarah says.
“Who the fuck is Ben?”
“My ex.”
“Elijah,” Caleb says.
“He didn’t do it!” she says. “It was me. He was beating up Elijah. I couldn’t let him—” Her shoulders shake. The relief of Ben being dead ebbs away, and she realizes it’s not relief, only adrenaline, and she vomits over the scatter of broken pottery and dried grass.
“I’m sorry,” she says, wiping her mouth and realizing too late she’s only smearing blood across her face. She’s sorry Caleb has seen her like this.
“Wait here,” Caleb says.
Where does he think she’s going to go? He turns on his heel and returns outside. Probably to call his uncle. She hugs herself, the stench of iron and bile and coffee searing her nostrils. She’d throw up from the smell if not for her now-empty stomach. Does Caleb believe it was self-defense? He must knowshecouldn’t have given Elijah a black eye.
Elijah reaches out and rests a hand on her shoulder. The weight keeps her from shattering again.
The front door opens. The chill from outside licks at Sarah’s damp, clammy skin. Caleb enters the foyer and drops a roll of plastic sheeting and a bucket on the floor. He shucks off his jacket, slings it on the staircase railing, and rolls up his sleeves like he’s done this a million times before.
“Is anyone going to miss this asshole?” Caleb gestures toward Ben.
Sarah shakes her head numbly. “He doesn’t start a new job for a couple of weeks.”
