It’s Tiffany. I knew it would be, but I still hoped. I hoped with all my heart that I was wrong.
“Why?” I say.
She snorts a laugh, and rage fills me. I remember how horrible I felt about her being kidnapped. I remember sitting at her side in the hospital, consumed by guilt, tripping over myself to apologize, while she was so understanding.
I think of the nurse, telling me that Tiffany has such a good heart, and of myself thinking, Yes, yes, she does. So good. So brave. So strong.
Such a liar. A hateful, twisted liar.
I grip the knife and —
She raises her hand and points a gun at me.
“You should see your face, Skye,” she says. “You’re like a little kid asking why somebody was mean to you. A little girl asking why her big brother wanted to shoot up his school.”
“Luka didn’t want to shoot anyone.”
“You just keep telling yourself that, little girl.”
“Luka hid the gun in the bathroom. That’s why he went in there.”
“Exactly. To get the gun and shoot —”
“And shoot who? The school was on lockdown. Luka was the one who put the school on lockdown. He’s the one who called the police. Isaac gave Luka a gun, and he put it in the bathroom.”
“Why would he —?”
“Because he’s Luka.” My eyes start to tear up, but I blink it back fast. “He hated guns. Wouldn’t even go target shooting with our dad. Isaac told him the plan and gave him a gun, and he couldn’t bring himself to carry it around. So he hid it in the bathroom, stole a girl’s cell phone and called the police.”
“Nice story, but —”
“You’re the one who told the police Luka was in class when the lockdown was called. You lied, and then you gave yourself away.”
“Gave myself away?”
“The performance art at the school, the show you put on for me. You’re in the images in the English class. You were in Luka’s class. You, not Harley. You’re the one who gave that statement to the police, saying Luka snuck out after the lockdown was called. Instead, he was in the bathroom waiting to hand over the gun. Which was a really dumb, clumsy mistake. But that’s all Luka did wrong. He made a mistake.”
“Your darling brother planned —”
“No, he didn’t. You did. You and Isaac. I don’t know how much Luka knew. But he never agreed to that shooting.”
“And the part about me being involved? When there’s no proof that I had anything to do with it?”
“But there is. Whoever gave that report to the police knew the basics of the plan, but no details. That’s why we presumed it was Harley. You told the police that you only knew Isaac was up to something with Luka and Harley. You said that Luka definitely knew what was happening. In other words, you lied.”
“I remember how much you liked to tell stories, Skye. This isn’t one of your best.”
“It’s all theory, of course. The details, that is. The heart of it, though – that you were part of the plan – is proven fact.”
“Proven how?”
“By the fact that you’re standing here, holding a gun on me. You’d gotten away with it. You successfully set yourself up as yet another victim: the poor girl whose boyfriend turned out to be a psychopathic school shooter. Then I showed up. The one person who had a reason to dig deeper. Especially if I started hanging around with Chris and Jesse. You knew Chris had doubts, didn’t you?”
“Chris Landry is a —”
“I’m sure you figured out he questioned the official story. He wasn’t digging, though. But if I came back? That might change his mind. So you counseled me to stay away from him. Stay away from Jesse, too. Bad, bad boys. Dangerous boys.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, but you tried to drive me there, and when that failed, well, making me look crazy should do the job just as well. Between you, Owen and Vicki, you covered all the bases.”
“Owen? Owen kidnapped me —”
“The fried chicken says otherwise.”
Her face screws up. “What?”
“You said Owen came home in a panic. And then he made fried chicken?”
“I had to eat.”
“Nice that he cooked for you. I saw the plates in the sink. Two full settings. Lunch dishes, too, which is odd, since he’d have been at school.”
“He came home.”
“And he let you eat off the china? All you had to do was break a plate and attack him. But there was broken glass, wasn’t there? In the living room. Glass with blood spray on the wall. According to you, he threw that tumbler in a rage. And then picked up a few pieces, cut himself, and then stormed out? Weird.”
“I don’t know what you’re implying —”
“I’m guessing it was a fight. A falling-out between partners in crime. Were you just partners in crime? You said he had a crush on you.”
“It doesn’t matter —”
“So you guys were a couple. Okay. He came home for dinner and said he wanted to quit your crazy plan. You fought, and he ran.”
“You found me tied up —”
“Partially tied up. Not that well, either. I bet it’s really hard to bind your own hands behind your back. Luckily, I was too freaked out about Jesse’s fall to notice. You were staging your escape, and then we showed up. Do you know what’s the worst of it, Tiffany? If you hadn’t launched your campaign to drive me off, I’d never have investigated the shooting.”
“That’s bullshit. You can’t leave well enough alone. Just like your brother. Always have to be the hero. Always have to do the right thing.”
“Which Luka did, when he tried to foil your plan.”
“He didn’t even know what the plan was, the idiot. I told Isaac to keep Luka out of it, but he gave him a gun. Gave it to him and didn’t tell him why – just ‘Hey, here’s a gun’ – in case he decided to join the shooting on his own. And what does Luka do? Calls the police to turn over the weapon. If Luka had any balls, he’d have refused to take the weapon. But no…”
That rage sparks again. I listen to her mocking my brother, and I realize – really understand – that she was behind it all. That she is the reason my brother is dead, and it takes everything I have to swallow my fury and give a measured response. I must stay calm. I must survive this so I can tell the truth. So I can clear my brother’s name.
So I say, “Luka took the gun because he knew it was safer in his hands. And he probably suspected something else was going on. That’s why he called the police. So what was the plan? You shoot up the school and go down in a blaze of glory?”
Her lip curls. “I wasn’t going down. Ever. We were going to be legends. Kill as many kids as we could, and then run to Mexico.”
“What movie did you swipe that plot from?”
“I got Isaac out of the school. Did you know that? I rescued him. And then what does he do? Panics. Loses his nerve and loses his mind. Starts saying that the only real way out is to kill ourselves. Kill myself? I hadn’t done anything. I was not putting a gun to my head.”
“But you agreed to, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. He would have turned on me the first chance he got. I just let him go first. The moron.”
“Then, after he was dead, you went back to the school, where you hid and faked hurting your ankle. They found you in the final sweep and took you to the hospital. What did you say to Harley while you were ‘sitting’ with him? No, you didn’t say anything, did you? You wanted to see if he’d say anything to you. If he knew you’d been behind it all. He didn’t, so —”
“Enough. You’ve done a very good job of stalling, Skye, but it’s time to kill your aunt.”
“Wh-what?”
She laughs. “Did you think this was a nice girl-to-girl chat? Air our differences and go our separate ways, having come to a better understanding of each other?”
“I can’t prove anything. No one has believed me so far. Just go. Run, like you planned to before.”
“I’m no longer the dumb fifteen-year-old who thought life on the run with her boyfriend would be so romantic. Why do you think I didn’t take off with Owen? I’m not running; I’m fixing this.”
“How is this fixing it?”
“Because once you kill your aunt, you’re free to tell the cops any story you want. They won’t believe you. You’ll be the bad seed who snapped. Murdered your aunt. Started ranting that the girl who befriended you – who got kidnapped because she tried to help you – is actually the mastermind behind the North Hampton shooting.”
“They’ll investigate —”
“Based on what? The smell of fried chicken? There’s no sign I was ever here. The security system wasn’t tampered with. The locks weren’t picked.”
“Your stepmom has the keys and the code from when she cleaned the condo for my aunt. And you came along to help.”
The look on Tiffany’s face tells me I’ve guessed right.
I lift my phone. “Mae and I were talking about you by text, and she mentioned you used to clean with your stepmom.” I hit buttons on the phone. “Here, let me show you.”
“That doesn’t prove —”
“No, but your confession does.”
“Confession?”
I waggle the phone. “The audio file I just emailed to Jesse.”
She snorts a laugh. “Nice try. Check that phone again. The Wi-Fi is off and the cell signal is blocked.”
“You mean our Wi-Fi. You disconnected the router. Which didn’t stop me from connecting to our neighbor’s unsecured one.”
I look at my phone. “Yep, the file has been sent. Jesse will – No, strike that. Jesse just got it. He must not be able to sleep. In pain from that fall, I bet. Well, he has the audio, so forget about getting away with it.”
“You lying bitch.”
“Don’t believe me?” I hold out the phone. “He’s downloading the audio now. See?”
“Give me that.”
“Hell, no. I’m not handing you my phone. You can see it from there. Just look. Downloaded thirty percent. Forty —”
She lunges for the phone. I throw it at her. Throw it in her face and slash my knife down on the hand holding the gun, but she dodges.
I don’t expect that. I slash again, but it’s wide, panicked. I kick, too. My foot makes contact. The gun rises, and I grab for her wrist. I drop my knife to grab her. She doesn’t expect that. The gun falls as she wrenches back. I kick the gun aside and dive at her.
She scoops up the knife and strikes. It catches me in the sleeve, but only snags, and I punch, my fist slamming into her side.
She hits the wall with a thud and the knife falls. She lunges for it. I stomp on her hand, and she lets out a screech of rage and pain. I grab her by the wrist. She yanks back before I get a grip. Then she’s gone, out the bedroom door, racing down the hall.
I’m about to go after her. Then I remember the gun and make a split-second decision to let Tiffany have a head start. There’s something I need to do first.
When I catch up, she’s at the front door, fumbling with the dead bolt.
A knock sounds at the door. She freezes.
“Skye?” Jesse calls. He knocks again. “Ms. Benassi? I’m sorry for coming by, but I thought of something I need to tell Skye, and she isn’t answering her phone, and I got worried.”
Tiffany turns to me. Slowly turns.
“That recording never went through,” she says.
“Not the first time – I wanted you to come closer. But once you ran, I connected and sent it. It’s in his inbox. He’ll get it eventually. So step away from the door —”
She charges. I slash the knife. It slices into her. Blood sprays. But she doesn’t care – is beyond caring. She shoves me as hard as she can and runs back toward the bedroom. Back to Mae.
“Jesse!” I shout. “Call the police!”
“Open the door!” he shouts.
“I can’t.” I’m racing after Tiffany. “Please. Get the police!”
Tiffany slides into Mae’s room and slams the door behind her. I grab the handle, but there’s blood on my hands, and I can’t turn the knob. I grasp it with my shirt and twist and throw it open —
Tiffany is standing beside the bed, and she’s retrieved the gun. The barrel points at Mae’s head.
“Hand me your phone,” she says.
When I hesitate, she waggles the gun. I retrieve my phone from the floor, pass it to her. She looks at the screen and snorts.
“No Wi-Fi,” she says. “You’re such a liar.” She shoves my phone into her back pocket. “If it’s any consolation, you should be glad you couldn’t send that recording. Otherwise, I’d have had to make you kill Jesse, too. Now I just need to hide until the cops break down the door and find you beside your aunt’s dead body. Bring that knife here. You have work to do, Skye.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.” She turns the gun on me. “Step over here —”
“No.”
“I don’t know what new trick you think you have up your sleeve, Skye. Or are you just stalling until Jesse gets help? I’m not going to give you that much time. You have thirty seconds —”
“Shoot me.”
“If you’re calling my bluff, that’s a very stupid move.”
“Is it?” I step toward her. “There’s no one here to pull that trigger for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You. The great Oz. The mastermind behind the screen. That’s what you think you are. Do you know what you really are?” Another step. “A coward.”
“Are you actually insulting me when I have a gun in my hand?”
“You don’t pull triggers, Tiffany. You make other people do it. You have no idea what it’s like to kill someone. You sneer at Isaac for shooting himself. You sneer at Owen for running away. Yes, they broke… because you broke them. You made them do what you couldn’t do yourself, and then you sneered when they couldn’t hack it. That is the worst kind of coward.”
“Do you really think this is a good idea, Skye? Goading me —”
“Fire the gun.”
“You have ten seconds —”
“Stop talking. Pull the trigger.”
Her finger twitches.
She glares at me. “Five —”
“Pull it, you psychotic bitch.”
Her finger twitches. But that’s all it does. It twitches, and her jaw sets, as if she’s struggling to pull that trigger.
“Oh, come on,” I say. “It’s not that hard. Isaac did it. Over and over he did it. For you.”
She grits her teeth, and she closes her eyes, and then she pulls the trigger.
The gun clicks. She pulls it again, but I’m already leaping at her. I drive the knife into her, just enough to make her drop the weapon and try to grab me, but I have her by the wrist, and I’m wrenching her around, and two seconds later, I have her on her knees, arm pinned behind her head.
“You emptied the gun,” she manages to snarl through clenched teeth.
“Duh. You knew I didn’t stay behind to send that recording. What did you think I was actually doing? I guess I’ll have to actually thank my dad for teaching me to how to load them. Now get on your stomach and put your hands behind your back.”