2 Sisters Detective Agency(26)

“I want this,” she said. She glanced back. Ashton’s silhouette nodded in the light from the porch window. The four of them slipped quietly into Newcombe’s bedroom and stood around the bed where two sleeping men lay, one of them snoring raggedly. Vera inhaled. She smelled skin lotion and used sheets, air freshener from the adjoining bathroom. Intimate smells. She had invaded Newcombe’s most private space and stood now relishing what was about to happen as something instinctual roused the teacher from his sleep and his figure twisted in the sheets.

“Wha—what?”

The crew pounced on the men in the bed.





Chapter 31



In Vera’s experience, most people didn’t try to flee or fight when presented with a situation as sudden and terrifying as a home invasion.

They froze.

Mr. Newcombe and his boyfriend did just that. Vera ripped the sheet from the bed, exposing their naked bodies, and after some initial surprised yelping and scrambling, the men went stiff and silent as Penny, Sean, and Ashton dragged them out of the room and down the stairs. They hardly resisted being cable-tied to the heavy dining room table. When the men were secured, Penny and Sean dashed away to indulge their violent fantasies—Penny grabbing objects off the shelves and smashing them on the tiles, pulling down curtains in the living room, while Sean crudely scrawled “FAGGOTS” on the wall with black spray paint. Sean probably thought he was being clever, seeing as he was gay himself, throwing the authorities off the trail by making it look like this was a hate crime. Vera decided any opportunity Sean got in his life to feel clever was a rare occurrence, so she let it go. Ashton smashed open the frame on the wall in the stairwell and ripped the picture out, stuffed it into his backpack.

The men were splayed across the tabletop, one at each end, their wrists bound to the upper joints of the table legs. Vera watched Mr. Newcombe struggle for a while. His body was smooth and hard, surprisingly beautiful, something that had always been a mystery to her in the classroom, underneath his boring plaid shirts and Walmart trousers.

“Darrel Newcombe,” Vera said, leaning on the table. The two men looked at her, wide-eyed, and she smiled beneath the mask. “Yeah, this is about you, asshole. This is about you believing you’re better than the people who have to obey you. We’re here to teach you that you’re a lowly little worm. At any minute one of us could decide to squash you.”

Sean and Penny raced up the stairs, laughing. Vera heard the floorboards creak above her as they jumped from one piece of furniture to another like little children, springing onto the bed, playing games.

“See,” Vera said, drawing a small silver revolver from the back pocket of her jeans, “there are people who have power, Darrel. And there are people who think they have power.”

“Whoa,” Ashton said. He was frozen midstride in the kitchen, the broom he had been using to knock items from shelves gripped in his hand like a club. “What the hell is that?”

Vera released and pushed open the revolver’s cylinder. She drew a small handful of bullets from her front pocket, showed Mr. Newcombe the objects in her hand. She loaded one, two, three bullets into the six slots in the weapon and spun the barrel.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Ashton rushed toward her. “Where did you get that?”

Vera held the gun to Darrel Newcombe’s temple. Ashton stopped. The teacher was sweating and whimpering. Across the table, his boyfriend had burst into sobs behind his tape gag.

“We’re not doing this.” Ashton’s robotic voice was deep and hard. “We never—”

Vera pulled the trigger.





Chapter 32



The gun clicked.

“Oh, my God!” Ashton dropped the broom.

Vera laughed. Her voice came out through the modifier in a terrifying cackle. “Ah, God! Did you feel that?”

Ashton watched in horror as Vera spun the chamber of the gun and snapped it shut again, held it to her own temple.

“We have the power, you understand?” she asked Mr. Newcombe. “We were born with it. It’s real. You want to see it again? Watch this.”

She pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. Her whole body twitched with excitement, terror, a relief that was almost sexual.

She spun the barrel again.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” Ashton grabbed for the weapon as she put it back against the teacher’s head. He managed to knock it away as she pulled the trigger, and a bullet smashed into a cabinet by the stairs. Ashton let Vera’s arm go, and she pointed the gun at him, his black mask identical to the cardboard targets she was so used to obliterating at the firing range.

The room was swirling, dancing in her vision. It was joy. Pure joy, the unpredictability of it all, the clash of possibilities. Live. Die. Kill. Spare. Destroy. Consume. Burn. The wheel was going round and round. What would happen next? She was shivering with excitement, just trying to account for all the possibilities. This was what Vera had come here for. The punishment and the possibilities. The game of chance and will.

“What the hell is going on?” Penny asked from the stairs. She and her brother had barreled down at the sound of the shot.

Vera lowered the gun. A decision made. A path chosen. She was ready for her next ride.

“Let’s go.” She swung an arm and they followed, as she knew they would.