Then it hits me. The alarm system at Mom’s house.
“Mom’s security panel,” I whisper. “If I can get to it, I can set it off. It’ll alert the police.”
I think…
For once this week, keeping the door unlocked may actually help me.
“Then we’re all going,” Amelia says, already shifting Madison to her other arm.
“No.” My voice is firm enough to make them both freeze. “You need to stay here. Stay with her.”
“I’m not letting you go off alone. Not if he’s on his feet,” Amelia shoots back.
“You have to,” I hiss, lowering my voice, scanning the trees behind us. “Look at her. She can’t run. If something happens on the way, if he’s out here and catches us—” I stop. “You need to get her to safety. Her family is waiting for her. She deserves to make it to them.”
She’s crying, shaking her head violently.
“Let me dosomethingfor once,” I demand. “You’ve always taken care of everything. You’ve always been the bigger, smarter, more responsible one. But this is my battle. Parker wants me.” I peer around into the blackness again, running out of time. “I’m going. I’ll set off the alarm, and I’ll berightback.”
Amelia grabs my arm. “I love you,” she says, the words strangled. “Be careful.”
“Love you.” I give them a final, hard look. “Nowhide.”
The storm ingests me as I cut across the slick street toward Mom’s house, terrified Parker is hiding somewhere. I don’t know if he’s still in his house, if he’s out here, if he’s even still alive.
I tell myself he’s down, that he won’t be able to follow me after what Meredith did. But as I push through the rain, sprinting up the hill, everything in my body warns me that he’s coming.
48
PARKER
Parker tugs the scissors out of his mother’s neck with a wet, fibrous sound. He lifts them again, ready to plunge them back in, when he notices her eyes have gone vacant. He tests it, shoving her body onto the floor. She’s limp, nonreactive.
He stares for a beat, breathing hard, chest hitching from nausea, saliva stringing from his mouth as another wave of sick passes him. He retches, convulsing, but nothing comes out.
Looking down at her body, he privately mourns her—his mother, his ally. Or so he thought. Rage tops all emotion when he thinks of Imogen. His perfect, patient Imogen. She had been warming up to him, finally seeing him for what he was meant to be. They’d been on the precipice of something sacred. But his mother ripped it apart.
He can’t let her get away again. He needs to find her, bring her back here. To him.
Then he’ll find Madison and Amelia, ensuring they don’t live to see tomorrow.
If they escape, Parker would rot in a cell, misunderstood and alone, his soul gnawed bare until his heart gave out decades later than he wished. No one would understand that everything he’s done… was love. Pure, real love.
Still gagging, Parker staggers down the hallway, his shoes slick with blood and soup and bile. He pries open the fruit cellar door, hoping to catch Imogen before she finds them. But the cellar is empty.
“Fuck!” he screams, voice bouncing off the walls. The echo makes him feel small, and he hates it. He doubles over, spewing a thin rope of blood onto the tile.
Stumbling upstairs, into the garage, he finds Amelia’s car, where his mother moved it. The sight steadies him. The girls must be on foot. He opens the car door, grabs her phone, and smashes it into the cement floor, black glass shattering beneath his shoe.
When Parker trips into the night air, he pauses, scanning his surroundings, listening for cries, watching for movement.
The Bly house. That’s where they must be. It’s the only place that makes sense. And the only place he can safely check.
Stealthily, he limps up the Bly driveway, each step hurting more than the last as his vision doubles. Halfway up the incline, he sees a quick flash in the doorway.
Imogen’s blond hair swoops inside, closing the door behind her.
A slow smile unfurls across Parker’s face.
