Kevin O'Brien - One Last Scream

“Very good, baby.”

“What kind of job do you want me to pull here tomorrow? Can you at least give me a hint?”

“Not over the phone. But I’ve written it down for you somewhere.”

“You and your fucking games,” he muttered.

“You love it,” she whispered. “I’m at Karen’s house. Why don’t you come over?”

“Now?”

“Yeah. I’ll be watching for you. You said you’re in the car?”

“Uh-huh.” He put the keys in the ignition. “I’ll be right over.”

“First, reach under the driver’s seat.”

Blade bent forward and felt around until his fingers brushed against something.

“I left a note for you,” she said. “Take another long look at the house, then read my note. Okay? I’ll see you soon.”

She clicked off.

Grinning, Blade switched off his phone. He pulled an envelope from under the car seat. Following her advice, he took off his sunglasses and stared at the McMillan house for a few moments. Then he tore open the envelope and read her note:

“Tomorrow, after 4 P.M.: Kill everyone in the house, and take whatever you want.”

“Karen!” she screamed. “Karen, where are you?”

At her desk with a glass of chardonnay, Karen was studying notes from earlier sessions with Amelia. She sprang to her feet and hurried for the stairs. Rufus followed her.

She’d talked Amelia into taking three sleeping pills, just to ensure they did the trick. Amelia had gone to bed in the guest room about fifteen minutes ago. There hadn’t been a peep out of her, and now this screaming.

Karen raced up the second floor hallway and flung open the guest room door. Between the two quilt-covered twin beds, the table lamp was on. Trembling, Amelia sat up in the bed that was farther from the door, her hands covering her face.

“What is it? What’s going on?” Karen asked. Rufus followed her into the bedroom.

“I’m sorry,” Amelia cried, still covering her face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scream out like that. I feel like such a baby.” She lowered her hands, then slumped back against her pillow. “It’s just-I’m used to the dorm and all the noise. It’s so damn quiet here, I was going crazy. I started hearing things, and got scared.”

Karen sat on the other bed. “Why don’t you come downstairs and watch TV for a while?”

She shook her head. “No, I just want to sleep. More than anything, I wish I could have a couple of shots of Jack Daniel’s right now, just to relax.”

“Not after those sleeping pills,” Karen said. “You’ve been so good lately. I wouldn’t let you slide back now anyway. I can bring a radio in here. Or what about a sound machine? My sister gave one to my dad a few years ago. I think it has ocean waves or something.”

Amelia let out a weak laugh. “Sure, might be worth a shot. Anything but this awful silence. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”

Karen got up and started out of the room. “No sweat. I think it’s just down the hall in the closet. Be right back.”

She retrieved the sound machine from the closet’s bottom shelf. Karen prayed it would do the trick.

She returned to the bedroom with the sound machine, set it on the nightstand, and plugged it in. The sound came on: waves rolling onto the shore, and the occasional, distant cry of a seagull. “Tranquil enough for you?” Karen asked, with a tiny smile.

Amelia sighed. “As long as I don’t have to listen to the sounds inside my head. Do you know what I was hearing when I finally screamed for you?”

“What were you hearing?” Karen asked.

“It was that weird, frail warble Collin made after I hit him in the head with the plank.” Tears came to her eyes, and she covered her face again. “I kept hearing my brother dying….”

“You didn’t do it,” Karen whispered, stroking Amelia’s hair. “You’re not responsible for it, Amelia. Now, lie down and listen to the waves. Don’t think about anything else. Rufus and I can stick around until you fall asleep. Would that help?”

“Thanks, I’m sorry to be so-”

“Oh, hush, it’s no bother,” Karen said, tucking her in. Then she switched off the nightstand lamp, and made her way to the rocking chair by the window. She settled back in it, and Rufus curled up near her feet.

“You’re sweet, Karen,” Amelia murmured, over the sound of the fake distant waves. “I often wonder why you don’t have a boyfriend. Doesn’t make sense, you’re so nice, and pretty.” Karen heard her yawn. “I–I sometimes think about how lonely you must be.”

“Oh, I’m doing all right,” Karen answered almost automatically.

“Always helping people, taking care of people, and no one to take care of you, it’s not right. Karen, you…you deserve to be happy.”

Karen said nothing. She felt a horrible ache in the pit of her stomach, and tears welled up in her eyes. But she remained silent. She just kept rocking in the chair, and listened to Amelia surrender to sleep.

Amelia felt herself drifting off as she spoke to Karen. The sleeping pills must have worked after all. In the darkness, she could see Karen sitting over in the corner of the room, by the window. Amelia heard herself slurring her words, and Karen’s silhouette seemed to blur.

For a second, just as she started to fall asleep, Amelia no longer saw Karen Carlisle across the bedroom. Instead, she had a fleeting image of her father in that rocking chair, the moment before she shot him through the head.

Bellingham, Washington-six months before

A notice came up on the 36-inch flat-screen TV in the Faradays’ den: ALL MODELS ARE EIGHTEEN YEARS OR OVER.

Collin had been looking forward to this moment. His parents had left for Lake Wenatchee that Saturday morning. This was the 16-year-old’s first weekend home alone ever, and to get the debauchery rolling, he’d borrowed three DVDs from his friend, Matt Leonard, whose brother had smuggled them home from college: Whore of the Worlds, Booty Call 9-1-1, and Missionary Impossible .

He was having some of the guys over for poker tonight; at least, that was the plan, if one of them could get his hands on a case of beer and some cigars. Matt would be coming over in about two hours, which gave Collin plenty of time to watch one of the movies and whack off. He’d drawn all the shades and peeled down to his underpants. His hand was already inching past the elastic waistband of his briefs as he watched the opening photo credits for Whore of the Worlds. A pretty brunette with perky breasts was shown from the waist up, gyrating on something that seemed to have the kick of a mechanical bull. The credits ran: Amber Anniston as Tami Cruz. Next, a long-haired blonde with a huge rack stared seductively at the camera with her finger in her mouth: Sheridan Madrid as Sheri Savoy.

And then the front doorbell rang.

“Damn it!” Collin hissed, switching off the DVD player. Springing up from the sofa, he frantically dressed and hid the DVD covers behind a sofa pillow. The doorbell rang again and again. “Matt, if that’s you, I’m gonna kill you,” Collin muttered. He hurried to the front door, and checked the peephole. “What the hell?” he whispered. Then he unlocked the door and opened it. “Amelia, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, nice way to greet your sister,” she said with an abrupt laugh. She brushed past him and sauntered into the house. “Mom and Dad are in Lake Wenatchee, and little brother is home alone, which means I caught you in the middle of getting drunk or bopping the bologna. Which is it?”

Collin ignored the question. “Aren’t you supposed to be at some Booze Busters retreat in Port Townsend?”