Under Her Care(50)
Why would Genevieve want Annabelle dead?
There’s only one person who might be able to answer that question for us, and I know exactly where to find her. Nobody knows the insides of a woman like her daughter.
THEN
Shiny. Bright. Beautiful blade. Blonde beautiful babe.
Crisscross applesauce.
Maybe touch me. Don’t you dare.
Two times two and ten plus one.
Tap. Tap. Tap twice.
Sing.
Sing us a new song. She says. But what if you like that one better? The old one. That life.
I miss it. Here we go again.
Hold your breath.
Count to ten.
Tap. Tap. Tap twice.
No burn. Just slice.
Hold your breath.
Count to ten.
Tap. Tap. Tap twice.
TWENTY-TWO
GENEVIEVE HILL
“Hello?” His voice reaches out again after a few more beats pass and I still haven’t spoken.
I expected That Monster’s voice. Who is this?
Blood swirls in my ears. Panic hammers in my chest. I planned a thousand different things to say, but I can’t speak. What am I doing? What was I thinking? I’d recognize that voice anywhere.
This isn’t him.
I should hang up, but I can’t.
Who is this? Thoughts, not the words I want them to be. Fear stole my voice. Won’t give it back.
“All right, don’t talk, Mrs. Hill. You can keep quiet all you want, and I’ll do the talking. I don’t mind talking at all.” There’s no fear in his voice. Only confidence. Cold and calculated. “I’ve been talking to our friend Simon from Hurricane Creek, and it looks like things didn’t go so hot for y’all down there.” He laughs like there’s anything about this that’s funny. “I think we need to get a few things worked out between us.”
“Who are you?” I ask, finally finding my voice, except it doesn’t sound like mine. It’s my little-girl voice. The one I used to beg Daddy for ice cream and Barbies with.
“Now that would be too easy, wouldn’t it, sweets?” I want to tell him not to call me that, but you don’t tell criminals to shut up. “You’ve met Simon. Did you really think he was capable of something like that all by himself?”
But I hadn’t met Simon. Not until that day. That terrible day when nothing went as planned. We never should’ve left the house. When will I ever listen to my gut?
“Who are you?” I ask again. Too scared to ask what he wants. My voice isn’t any louder or more like mine the second time.
“Let’s just say that I’m the boss. People work for me.” He sounds like a boss. A mean one. How did I get into the middle of this? How many people are involved? “I’m sorry things went the way they did. That’s got to be real frustrating for you. I imagine you’ve got quite the situation on your hands now. Everyone thinking your son did this. His prints all over the rock. That’s a real tough spot to be in.”
My insides tremble. I grip the phone with one hand and peek through the blinds in the living room with the other to see if there’s any movement outside. What if he’s on my property again? The moon casts eerie shadows onto the empty lawn. Is he out there watching me while we talk? Shivers shoot down my spine.
“Please leave us alone. Please. We don’t want any trouble. Please.”
He laughs. “Oh, it’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?”
“Please.”
“Please what?” He mocks me with a seductive undertone.
“Stop. Just leave us alone. We don’t want any trouble.”
“I’ll be more than happy to leave you alone. Simon too. I can make sure of that because like I said, I’m the boss, and he listens to me. I’m just going to need one thing from you. That’s all. Then I’ll go on my merry way. We all can.”
I wait for him to go on, but he doesn’t. Silence stretches between us until it’s unbearable, and I blurt out the question he’s been dying for me to ask him: “What do you want?”
“What do you think I want, Mrs. Hill?” His voice a warning.
“If I knew what you wanted, don’t you think I would’ve given it to you a long time ago? Do you think we’d even be here? Just tell me what you’re doing. Tell me what you want so you can leave us alone. Please.” I quickly add as a desperate afterthought, “And don’t let Simon hurt us.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He ignores what I said about Simon and focuses on my question instead. “But since you did”—his tone shifts to brisk and businesslike as he rattles his conditions off like a list—“you give me three hundred thousand dollars, and I go away. I make sure Simon does too. We leave your family alone, and all go on with our lives pretending like this never happened.”
There it is. Everyone wants something, and it’s usually money, so I don’t know why I’m shocked at his request. “That’s crazy. I can’t give you three hundred thousand dollars. I don’t have that kind of money.”
Laughter explodes into the phone. “Oh, Genevieve, please. Darling, we both know you’re loaded. Don’t play me like that. I don’t like being played with. It makes me very angry. You want me to stay happy. Trust me.” His tone goes flat, cold.