Slaughter Daughter by Eve Langlais

22

I emergedfrom our morning hair-dyeing session with a head of vivid pink locks and a whole lot of anxiety. We’d yet to hear anything.

The afternoon dragged. Kalinda roped me into helping her shop for groceries and then conscripted me into prepping for dinner. I had no idea what she was making, but it involved me fetching her ingredients and peeling more potatoes than I appreciated.

For entertainment, Mary put the crime scene photos on a loop on her laptop. Lucky me. I got to see it from every angle, including the body.

For a bully, Erik didn’t look so tough in death. He didn’t look scared, either. They’d found his head after the fact lying in a field. He didn’t die with a smile on his face, but he didn’t bear a screaming rictus either. He’d bled to death. The report had listed several wounds on his body but not a single ligature mark to show that he’d been bound. The logical assumption was that he’d been drugged, but police were awaiting a toxicology report to confirm, which would likely take a few days.

I studied those pictures of dead Erik more than I should have. Wondered if the MO was the same as the supposed pentagram murders attributed to my parents. While I’d long proclaimed my parents’ innocence, I did have questions about the case—even as my curiosity felt disloyal. How could I even think of blaming my parents? But then again, how could I remain willingly blind to the truth? I hadn’t needed that mockumentary to point out the many coincidences.

If my parents hadn’t committed any crimes, then they could surely have provided alibis for some of the murders. I could have vouched for them…only I would have been asleep when most of the incidents happened. People could sneak in and out with ease, as I well knew, which was why Joseph’s insistence on shielding me was surprising.

How could he be so sure I’d not killed Erik? What about the new pentagram and its body? I’d supposedly been abed when the security guard had stumbled upon it. The cops had taken Joseph’s word that his security system provided an alibi, yet knowing Mary, how easy would it be to change the logs? Which led to me wondering if the professor might have an ulterior motive for providing me with a cover.

Could he be the killer? If yes, then why divert attention from me? It made even less sense to send Jag to check out the body. He wasn’t a forensic specialist.

Unless…

What if his sole purpose in seeing the body had to do with ridding it of evidence? Of all the possibilities, that fit the best. But it was just a theory. Could even be my paranoia talking. Why would people who’d gone out of their way to help me betray me?

With that kind of turmoil inside my mind, I’d passed the stir-crazy point by late afternoon. Supper and dessert were in the oven. I’d helped with clean-up, and I had nothing left to do. Idle hands led to itchy feet.

“Want to go for a ride and grab some of our stuff?” Kalinda asked. “I need clothes and toiletries if I’m going to stay overnight.”

“You’re staying?” It should have occurred to me, given how completely she’d taken over the kitchen.

“Yes. I’ve already spoken to the professor about it. Even though you’re posing as his niece, for propriety’s sake, it would be best if another woman or two were around.” She winked.

“Okay.” It made sense. If someone hinted at impropriety, he could be ruined. “Anyone else staying?”

“Expect to see all of us coming and going.”

“Won’t that be weird, you guys all hanging at his place?”

“We’ll handle it.” A breezy reply as she swept out the door and dragged me in her wake.

Her driving involved a few life-threatening moments—not just for us but also for pedestrians—some musical yelling, and her beating her fastest time by a minute.

As we neared the place I’d recently called home, I noticed people on the sidewalk, pointing at the words spray painted across the red brick façade. Large, dripping white block letters: Killer.

One guess as to who they meant.

This wouldn’t end well.

I hunched down in the seat. “We should turn around and go back to the professor’s house.”

Kalinda kept going. “We need our things. What’s the worst they can do? They’re not about to assault two women in broad daylight.”

I pursed my lips. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

She glanced at me. “You might have a point. It doesn’t take much to set off a mob. We’ll drive straight into the garage and enter the house via the kitchen.”

“What if they block the driveway?” The pessimist in me saw how this could go wrong.

“Then I’ll run them over.”

“Kalinda!”

“Just kidding,” she sang. But I wasn’t entirely sure of that.

She kept her pace steady, and no one paid her any mind.

“I am going on the record as saying this is a bad idea.” I sank as far down in my seat as I could.

Kalinda, being a little nuts, hit the gas then slammed the brakes, spun the damned SUV on a dime, and turned into the driveway. Fearing for my life, I had to sit up and grab the oh-fucking-shit bar. She’d done a dangerous and yet skillfully sweet maneuver, acting so fast that only now did the people on the sidewalk start pointing and shifting. Before they could reach us, the car was in the garage, and the door—not ever fully open to start with—began to close.

“Ta-da!” she exclaimed. “Safe and sound.”

“Except for the fact that I need to change my underwear,” I grumbled as I got out of the car.

Too soon, as it turned out. I caught someone peering under the door, yelling, “She’s here! Slaughter Daughter is inside.”

Well, shit. That wasn’t good. I hugged myself. Leaving the professor’s house seemed dumb now. I’d been safe there. Why had I let Kalinda talk me into coming? She didn’t need me. Without me, she would have brazenly walked in the front door and demolished anyone who tried to block her path.

I wanted to be like her when I grew up. I chewed my lip and wished I’d stuck to those lessons on self-defense.

“Ignore them.” Kalinda tugged me by the arm as she swept around the car, heading for the door inside. “You’ve done nothing. They’re just trolls. Let’s get our things.” She moved with confidence into the house, but my steps were slower. I already had the things I needed most on me or at the professor’s place.

Rather than grab the rest, I found myself gravitating to the living room, keeping out of sight of the windows. The crowd on the sidewalk grew and now included a few faces I recognized, like that girl from Professor Santino’s social media class. So much for not perpetuating gossip. Maybe I’d report her to the professor and have her kicked out. Petty, but then again, so was her joining the mob to harass me. Their voices rose in a wordless clamor. The agitation humming through them penetrated the safety of the house, and I shivered.

Instinct told me to flee. And quickly.

“I think we should hurry,” I yelled up the stairs.

“Almost done. Don’t worry about the people outside. The doors are locked. We’re fine.”

As if to mock her words, a window broke, the shards hitting the floor in a noisy tinkle. I backed away as the culprit, a rock from the edge of the garden, rolled across the floor.

It took only one person to start violence.

Kalinda came flying out of her room and down the stairs, livid. “Those miscreants! How dare they?” She marched to the front door and flung it open to yell at the crowd. “Whoever broke the window, expect a visit from the cops and a bill to replace it.”

“We don’t want a killer in our neighborhood!” was the bellowed reply.

“Abby isn’t a killer, you Neanderthal.” Kalinda’s retort didn’t help the situation.

A different person hollered, “Did you help her kill that kid?”

First off, Erik wasn’t exactly a kid. Second, I knew she’d get caught up in my situation. “Close the door.”

When someone yelled a rude slur, Kalinda finally slammed the door and locked it. She turned a worried look my way. “They’re quite unreasonable.”

“I know.” Left unsaid? Welcome to my life.

“I have enough things for now.” She hefted a bag. “We should leave before they multiply.”

With one window broken, it was only a matter of time before they swarmed the house.

“Not going to hear me argue.”

We piled back into the Jeep, and she started it. She put her hand on the button to open the door, only to pause as we heard the thumping of fists hitting it. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the metal denting in multiple spots.

“I don’t think you should open it.”

“They wouldn’t dare harm us.” She didn’t sound as sure as before.

“I think they will dare,” I remarked. “This is my fault.” I slid out of the vehicle, but before I could close the door, Kalinda leaned over.

“Where are you going?”

“They want me, not you. Maybe if I slip out the back, they’ll let you go.” Said even as I didn’t believe it. As I’d feared, I’d dragged her into my mess and now didn’t know how to get us out.

“What if they catch you!?” she hotly exclaimed.

“Better me than you.” I offered a lopsided smile and closed the passenger-side door. I ignored the fists pummeling the metal shield that would soon buckle if they didn’t stop. I headed for the house. Already in the kitchen, the back door was only a few paces away in the laundry-slash-mud room. I’d taken two steps when I froze at a sound from the hall.

Someone was inside.

Should I wait to see if they were friendly?

Like hell.

I headed for the laundry room and the door leading into the cemented-over rear yard. The fence around it stood about six feet. Climbing it would allow me to get to the other side of the block.

What I didn’t count on was the fact that climbing meant yanking my body up and over. It took some huffing and heaving before I had one leg hiked over, holding on for dear life, just as a voice said, “What the fuck are you doing now?”