“I don’t know what to do. She needs a doctor.” I feel dizzy looking at the bloodied towels piled up in the bathroom. I put Lady Macbeth to shame scouring my hands clean of Mom’s blood before starting in on the sweater. When my intense scrubbing threatens to add my own blood into the mix, I release the hem of my sweater and force my hands apart to brace on the sides of the sink. Lifting my eyes, I find Malcolm staring at me in the mirror.
“You gonna tell me what she said?”
“She didn’t say anything.” I squeeze the porcelain. “I’m the one who talked. I told her all the lies I’d unraveled, and she didn’t deny any of them or offer excuses, but when I asked her point-blank if she killed Derek, she”—my voice goes tight—“she basically asked me how I could believe her if she told me she was innocent.”
Malcolm is leaning against the wall behind me, his hands shoved into his pockets.
“I just don’t know anymore. I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to know,” I whisper. Not because Mom might hear me, but because I’m afraid to hear myself. It’s my confession, the one that’s been steadily gaining ground on me for longer than I’ll admit. I focus on the reflection of Malcolm’s honey-brown eyes locked on mine. “And I know that’s not what I promisedyou.”
“No,” he says just as softly before pulling his mouth to the side in half a sneer. “You know it’s not like that anymore.”
“That’s not fair,” I tell him. “You’re here because of me, hurt because—”
He pushes off from the wall and tugs at a loop of my jeans to turn me around so we’re face to face. His hand stays warm and solid on my hip. “What’d you say to me that first night when you kept that window edge tight in your hand whenever I so much as breathed at you wrong?”
He’s so close that I have to lift my head to meet his gaze. “I said a lot of things I wish I hadn’t.”
His lips curl up slightly. “I’m not talking about all the threats. You told me that ignorance isn’t the same as innocence. I got caught in this because of me, I got hurt because of some sadistic bastard with steel-toed boots, but I did decide to stay because of you.” He lifts his hand, and his thumb lightly brushes the cut under my bangs, leaving a trail of warmth behind. “Because the only one who’s truly been innocent in all of this is you.”
Had I really ever been afraid of him? That emotion feels a million miles away from the one tingling through my skin and radiating through my chest. It’s almost enough to block out the chill stealing through the cracks around the window and the shadows creeping in under the door from the dark room outside.
Almost.
I curl my fingers around his wrist and lower his hand from my face. “If I’m innocent, why do I feel so guilty?”
“So we’re asking church questions now.” Then he steps away, giving me as much room as the bathroom will allow. It’s not much, but it’s worlds easier to breathe in here than in the room with my mom. “It was the same with my dad. He made all these promises to me and Gran after he got out of prison the first time. Said he was going to be there for me, show me how to be a man, that kind of stuff. Sang on Sundays louder than anybody. And afterward, when those same patterns started coming back, it was like as long as I never looked, never asked, he didn’t have to be a liar.” His hands return to his pockets. “But when they came for him again, when it all came out, I was the one left feeling like a criminal.”
The cold sink behind me is jarring after Malcolm’s touch.
“I’m not saying that’s you or it’s the same. I’m saying I understand not wanting to know. I still wish I didn’t.”
“But isn’t that worse? Was it any better when you found out?”
His eyes go soft, so soft. “I don’t know. I didn’t get to choose with my dad. And,” he says, “he wasn’t like your mom. He stole for himself, for the thrill.”
“But that’s what I don’t know. Tiffany Jablonski and Melissa Reed. All this time, has she been running from something or for something?”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “From the second I met you, you never doubted her love. Maybe she ran at first from her mistakes, but you’re the reason she kept running.”
Something bright fills my chest at that. Not just from his smile, which is sunshine after the rain, but from the truth I recognize in his words. My mom’s always done whatever it took to keep me safe. I learned that from her. Even now, she—
Malcolm’s smile vanishes as I push past him and yank the door open.
The bed is empty. Mom’s gone.
“She conned me,” I say, my voice softened by disbelief. Not about being hurt, but about how weak she was. She didn’t need to lie down; she needed to make me think she was giving in, so that she could take off.
Malcolm hurries past me to look outside, but I don’t join him. I know she’s already gone. I check for the keys to Laura’s car and find them still safely tucked in my back pocket. That only means we’re not stuck here. Mom will get herself a car if she hasn’t already.
Malcolm is slow in returning. “I didn’t see her.”
“How many vehicles were in the parking lot?”
He has to duck back out to count before telling me, “Eleven.”
“There were twelve when we got here.” I also knew that there were exactly sixteen rooms, and nine of those had Do Not Disturb signs hanging from their doors.
“So she took one?”
