Kevin O'Brien - One Last Scream

She grinned at him, and then her gaze shifted to Stephanie. “Hey, sweetheart, could you help me fix dinner?”

Warily staring back at her, Stephanie shifted in his lap.

“Oh, c’mon, what do you say? Help me out. Stir the sauce for me, okay?”

“’Kay,” Stephanie murmured, scooting off her father’s lap.

Jessie pulled out one of the chairs from the breakfast table and put a bowl full of the sauce mixture on it. She gave Stephanie a plastic spoon. George watched his daughter, with a determined look on her face, stirring the concoction.

He felt a tightness in his throat. George told himself he wasn’t going to break down in front of her, not when she’d just stopped crying herself.

He thought about the police, now on their way. They’d have all sorts of questions about the Faradays’ personal problems, their deep, dirty secrets. They’d want to know what had driven Mark Faraday to snap and do such violent, horrific things.

George would have to tell them how Mark and Jenna’s marriage had suffered in the wake of Collin’s death. Still, he’d never imagined his brother-in-law as the type of man who could harm anyone intentionally. Then again, not too long ago, he’d never imagined Mark as the type of man who would sleep with his wife’s sister, either.

Should he admit that to the police? God, he didn’t want to go into that with them. Still, he wondered if Ina and Mark’s indiscretion had anything to do with what had happened last night. George couldn’t begin to guess what had been going through Mark’s head when he’d picked up that gun and started shooting.

The three of them were dead. Couldn’t people just leave them alone?

No. The media coverage would be crazy. What a scoop: the love triangle behind the bloody murders. The scandal might blow over by the time Stephanie was old enough to understand what people were gossiping about. But poor Jody-all his friends would know his mother had screwed his uncle just two months before the guy shot her, his wife, and then himself.

Part of him was so mad at Ina right now for doing this to her family and herself. The irony was she’d always been so concerned with keeping up appearances and impressing people. How would Ina have felt if she knew her sad little affair would become public knowledge?

Maybe he could strike a deal with the police to leave the more delicate matters out of the newspapers. It was worth a try. He really didn’t have much of a choice.

He thought about Amelia, napping downstairs. Telling the police about Ina and Mark meant telling Amelia, too. And God only knew how that already fragile girl would take it.

“Am I doing good, Daddy?” Stephanie asked, looking up from her work.

“Oh, you’re doing great, sweetie,” he said.

She went back to stirring the cream of chicken soup and sour cream concoction. With tears in his eyes, George leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

“Amelia, are you awake?” Karen whispered. Opening the door, she peeked into the dimly lit guest room.

Amelia was lying on one of the twin beds. The pale-green paisley quilts matched the material for the drapes, which were closed. The place looked like something out of a Pottery Barn catalogue. The decor-with all the carefully chosen accents-had that pleasant, slightly generic ambiance. There were two framed Robert Capra posters on the walls-black-and-white Paris scenes.

Stirring, Amelia sat up and squinted at Karen. “Oh, hi.”

“Were you on your cell just now?” she asked. “I heard you whispering to someone.”

“I-um, must have been talking in my sleep,” she said, shrugging.

Karen closed the door behind her, then sat down on the bed across from Amelia. She reached for the lamp on the nightstand between them.

“No, don’t, please,” Amelia said.

So they sat in the darkness for a few moments. Karen heard muffled sobbing, and looked up toward a vent in the ceiling.

“That’s coming from Jody’s room,” Amelia explained.

Karen listened for another moment, and then sighed. “You’re not feeling in any way responsible for what happened at the cabin last night, are you?”

She quickly shook her head. “God, no.”

“Honey, it’ll help you to talk about it.”

Amelia glanced up toward the vent. Jody’s muted sobbing seemed to devastate her. She wiped a tear from her cheek.

“You’re not responsible for that,” Karen whispered.

“Yes, I am,” she murmured. Grabbing her pillow, she reclined on the bed and curled up on her side. “It’s just how it happened when Collin was killed. All day yesterday, I had these awful feelings that Mom, Dad, and Aunt Ina deserved to die.”

“Why did you feel that way?”

“I don’t know. It was something evil inside me. I thought about going to the Lake Wenatchee house and shooting them all. It’s horrid, I know. It doesn’t make any sense. I was so confused. I tried calling you, but you weren’t home. I couldn’t talk about it with Shane. We went to a party last night, and I just wanted to get drunk. I only had a couple of beers. But it was enough to make me a little crazy. I stole a half-full bottle of tequila, borrowed Shane’s car, and just started driving. That’s all I remember. I blacked out.”

“Oh, Lord,” Karen whispered, shaking her head.

“Next thing I knew, I woke up this morning in this empty parking lot in Easton. Do you know where Easton is?” Amelia sat up and stared at her. “It’s off I-90, halfway between here and Wenatchee. I must have stopped there to rest on my way back. At first I thought I’d had a nightmare. I kept praying it wasn’t real. But I knew it was. I didn’t need you to tell me they were dead. I knew how it happened, too, because I’m the one who killed them.”

“But you said you had a blackout,” Karen argued. “You can’t know for sure-”

“It wasn’t a dream, Karen. I remember my dad in the rocking chair by the fireplace.” Amelia started weeping inconsolably. “I–I shot him in the head. My mom, she must have woken up. God, I can still see her running out of their bedroom. I shot her too-I shot her in the face….” She curled up again, and sobbed into the pillow. “Aunt Ina…with her it seemed like later, but I’m not sure. I just remember her standing there in the living room, staring at my dad, and then at me. She said, ‘My God, honey, what have you done?’ And I didn’t say anything. I just shot her in the chest….”

Horrified, Karen gaped at her. “Amelia, you couldn’t have. You’re just not capable of that kind of coldhearted-”

“Then how come I know what happened?” she cut her off. “Nobody in this house knows yet except me. I must have been there, don’t you see? I’m the one who killed them all.”

“It’s not true, Amelia,” she said, rubbing her shoulder. “It didn’t happen like that. Listen to me. Are you listening? If you really did this, what kind of gun did you use?”

Amelia shrugged. “I’m not sure. My dad’s hunting rifle, I think. I remember it felt like someone hitting me in the shoulder with a baseball bat every time I fired it.”

“Was that the first time you’ve ever used it-last night?”

“I guess so.”

“And you knew how to operate it right away? You knew how to load it and work the safety?” Karen didn’t wait for Amelia to answer. She switched on the nightstand lamp. “Are those the same clothes you had on last night? To hear you tell it, you shot them all at close range. Where’s the blood on your clothes, Amelia?”

“I must have washed it off,” she muttered, glancing down at herself.

“Where? When? During your blackout? Blood doesn’t wash off that easily.”

Amelia just shrugged and shook her head.