The Black Coats(52)

They moved down the hallway, shutting the door halfway behind them. Thea looked around the room. It was basic: a bed, a dresser, and not much more. There was a framed picture on the wall of a misty forest scene, and a Dallas Cowboys hat hung on the bedpost. Thea, however, became fixated on another item: a well-loved stuffed unicorn with tattered wings was propped up against a pillow.

“Stay here!” she ordered, and darted out of the bedroom, making her way down the short hallway. She threw open a door—a bathroom. The next door was a closet. Finally, she flung open the last door, hoping to find storage or perhaps a rack of dead bodies, anything other than what she was seeing. There was a bunk bed in the kids’ room. The decor indicated that a boy and a girl shared the room; a Frozen comforter was crumpled on the floor alongside a heap of giant Transformer action figures. Kids’ drawings covered a small table where untouched goldfish crackers sat in a bowl. No, no, no . . . This was wrong; it was all wrong. Thea rushed back up the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind her. Team Banner looked at her with alarm. “We have to leave. He has children! We can’t be here!”

Mirabelle suddenly pushed Thea up against the wall, her arm pressed against her neck. God, she was strong. “He killed my parents!” she hissed at Thea.

“Mirabelle.” Casey was looking over at the dresser, where, in a framed picture, two kids leaned against their dad. They had fishing poles in their hands and toothless grins on their faces. “We can’t. What if the kids are with him?”

“They won’t be! The luminaries would never have given us his address if that was the case.” Louise looked around the room. “He’s divorced. Nobody else’s clothes are in the closet.”

The garage door began closing. Thea made the call. “We need more time to figure this out. We can’t do this inheritance right now.”

“I’m not leaving!” Mirabelle shoved Thea sideways as she shot toward the door, but Louise blocked her with an outstretched arm and spun her around so that she was caught in a headlock.

“Mirabelle. Take just a minute! Calm down!” whispered Louise. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Let me go, you don’t know! You don’t know how it feels.”

Thea bent over to look in Mirabelle’s eyes. “I do know. We all know. Mirabelle, it seems like maybe he has his life together! What else could we ask for?”

“Justice?” whimpered Mirabelle, losing her composure. “For my parents.”

Casey’s voice rose from the corner of the room. “He’s a dad.”

“So was Raphael Amadoor.” Mirabelle hiccupped, and Louise loosened her grip.

“That was different,” Thea hissed.

“Is that up to you to make that call?” Mirabelle snapped. “Is it you who gets to decide?”

This was getting murkier by the second.

“No. Yes. I don’t know exactly, but what I do know is that we can’t do this right now,” Thea said, taking Mirabelle’s shaking hands into her own. “We have to leave. Let’s take some time and decide together what to do about this.”

Mirabelle nodded. “Fine.” She took a breath. “I’m okay.”

Thea made her way over to the window. “Good. I think we can just leap out of here, really quick. Mirabelle, go first.”

But Mirabelle was spinning now, her fist landing squarely across Louise’s jaw, her strong body pushing past Casey, who went flying into the closet. Bea leaped for her, but it was too late.

“Mirabelle, stop!” Thea yelled, but by the time the words escaped her mouth, Mirabelle was out the door and down the hallway. Thea flew after her, skidding into the hall and running to the back door. She turned into the kitchen. Oh God.

Marc Mitzi was standing at the kitchen counter. The bag of groceries he had been carrying had been dropped at his feet, and peaches rolled to a stop on the tile. Both of his hands were out in front of him and his voice was shaking. “Calm down. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

Mirabelle loomed in front of him, her impassioned figure trembling. She was bigger than he was, and she was pointing a large kitchen knife in his direction. Thea slowly walked into the kitchen behind Mirabelle. Marc’s lip quivered when he saw her. “Please don’t hurt me. I have two children.”

“That’s rich!” sputtered Mirabelle, waving the knife as she spoke. “Are you worried about them being orphans?”

Marc stepped backward as Mirabelle took a step toward him. “Yes.”

Mirabelle’s eyes widened and pure fury crossed her face. “Well, you made an orphan of me!” she screamed, flinging herself at Marc with the knife outstretched. Thea lunged forward and caught Mirabelle around the waist, flinging her against the table. Together they bounced hard off the back of a chair and spun to the floor. The knife skittered across the tile. Marc picked it up and stepped toward them.

Thea held out her hand in surrender. “She’s okay. Mirabelle, you’re okay.”

Mirabelle was sobbing now on the floor, her anger dissolving into desperation as she deflated in Thea’s arms.

“You killed my parents. You took them from me,” she wailed.

Marc’s expression changed from fear to shock as he looked down at her with disbelief. “Mirabelle . . . Watts?”