Protecting What's Mine(117)

“What have you done?” she gasped, pulling the sheet over her face as smoke stung her throat and lungs.

The figure stepped across the threshold, an arm extended toward Mack.

A gun pointed at her heart.

Sunshine snarled, and the hand that held the gun wavered toward the dog.

“No!” Mack said, yanking Sunshine back. The figure closed the door, grinning maniacally.

“Guess who finally wins, Kenzie?”

“Jesus. What have you done, Wendy?”

Wendy stood between Mack and the door, the stairs, the way out.

“You took everything from me. You couldn’t stand to see me happy. Now, it’s my turn to take from you.”

Logically, Mack knew there was no reason to argue with unhinged. There would be no making her sister see the reality. But in the moment, with adrenaline pumping through her system, with the need to live to see Thanksgiving morning when the people she loved most would gather, she was fearless.

“I did everything I could to save him, Wendy. Everything. He was already gone before he got to the hospital.”

“You killed him,” she shrieked.

“I swear I didn’t, Wendy. I tried so hard to save him. I tried to save him for you.” Keep her talking. Keep her engaged until either the authorities arrived or the smoke got too thick to see. She’d get Sunshine out on the roof, and they’d escape. Somehow.

“You don’t get to have what you took from me.”

“I didn’t take anything from you!”

“You killed him. You did it just to hurt me. And now I’m going to watch you burn, and I’m going to kill your firefighter when he comes through that door to save you!”

“Where did you start the fire, Wendy?” Mack demanded, slipping off the bed and hoping to God the call had connected. Hoped that someone in dispatch could hear what was happening. In case she didn’t make it. She wanted them to know the truth.

Wendy giggled. “The garage. I figured it would give us time to talk, give your man time to get here before you both die.”

“I love Linc,” Mack said. Not for Wendy’s benefit, but for him. If she didn’t make it, there would be a record of her saying it. “Put the gun down, Wendy. You don’t really want to shoot first responders. You just want to hurt me.” She took a step toward her sister.

“Stay where you are!” The gun was pointed at her again. “Don’t make me shoot you before the smoke gets you. Your boyfriend will find you,” she said, gleeful now. “He’ll find your body and know he couldn’t save you.”

“You’re really going to kill us both?”

“I’ll watch you burn,” she said, her smile a terrifying machination. She laughed.

Sunshine whimpered.

It was getting hotter and darker in the room. The layer of smoke on the ceiling was thickening.

Her phone screen glowed dimly, half under the pillow.

Please be listening.

It was eerily quiet except for the pops and bangs from the fire as it consumed the cottage beneath them.

Wendy coughed into her arm, the gun pointing at the floor for just a second.

“I didn’t kill Powell,” Mack said.

“Yes. You did. He was yelling. That night in the car. I couldn’t see. It was dark, foggy. Powell was singing or maybe yelling,” she murmured, coughing again.

If Mack could get to her and disarm her, there was a chance she and Sunshine could make it out.

Sunshine wiggled closer to the edge of the bed. The roof was steep, but maybe they could get down the stairs or out the window, onto the roof.

God. Once again, Wendy had her trapped in a second-floor bedroom. But Mack wasn’t six years old anymore. And she had a hell of a lot to live for.

It was so damn hot. And Linc did this for a living, walking into the flames. Linc. The smoke was so thick now. Someone would notice the flames. Someone would call. Someone would come.

Sweat ran freely down Mack’s back. Her hair hung limply in her face.

“Powell overdosed. He had too much heroin in his system,” Mack said.

“I had the methadone. We did it for fun. But I didn’t see the barrier.” Wendy sighed dreamily, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “But I saw his head hit the dashboard.”

Mack pulled Sunshine off the bed, pushed her to the floor out of the smoke. “Stay, girl.”

Understanding hit her. Sick recognition.

“You were driving that night. It wasn’t Powell. It was you.”

Her sister had killed Powell. Her sister and his bad decisions.

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Wendy shot back up off the mattress. Her hand trembled as she pulled the hammer back on the revolver.

It was so dark in the room. Like the smoke was extinguishing everything.

“You know it wasn’t my fault. You blame yourself. But it’s easier to blame me.”

There were sirens, Mack thought. She hoped it wasn’t a delusion, a hallucination.

They were getting louder and louder now. It wasn’t her imagination.

Help. Linc.

She needed to get out. Needed to get Sunshine out. They had a future. The three of them. There were kisses to be kissed. Vows to be made. Babies to have.

And she was going to fight for him, for their future.

She launched herself at her sister.