Chapter 4
Sunday 12:15 A.M.
THE POLICE OFFICER will leave. My mother will shut the door and press her back against it to keep her from collapsing to the floor. She will be devastated—in the first moments of being ravaged by emotional turmoil. But of all the possible emotions, the one she will not feel is shock. At this point, there’s nothing left that can surprise her.
In the playhouse the air is musty and smells like dry wood. I can’t help thinking of the children who have played in here. Little girls serving pretend meals to dolls seated around the table. Boys kneeling at the windows, firing toy guns at imaginary attackers. But here in the dark now, there is nothing pretend or imaginary. It’s all horribly real.
My cell phone vibrates. With trembling fingers I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Mom.
“Are the police there?” I ask.
“They just left.” Her voice is high and anxious. “A murder? My God, Cal, what’s going on?”
My heart heaves and my eyes become watery. As frightened as I am, I feel even worse for her. After everything she’s been through. Sebastian and Dad. And now this? It’s as if her family is slowly being destroyed before her eyes.
Tears spill out and roll down my cheeks. “I didn’t do it,” I manage to croak. “I only found her after she’d been stabbed.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m …” I hesitate, knowing how she’ll react. “Hiding.”
“What? Why?” Predictably, her voice rises even higher. “Go to the police. Tell them you didn’t kill her.”
I can’t bring myself to explain about my picking up the knife and the photos they took. Or about the troubles between Katherine and me that I never told Mom about. “They won’t believe me.” I sniff miserably, feeling another wave of emotion rising inside me. “I can’t explain now. Just … check under the umbrella.”
“What?”
“You’ll figure it out. I have to go. Don’t call back.”
I snap the phone shut.
Almost instantly it rings again.
It’s my mother, of course.
But instead of answering, I burst into sobs.
My brother, Sebastian, is four years older than me. As far back as I can remember, Dad wanted him to be a professional athlete. While some sons obediently tried to live up to their fathers’ wishes, Sebastian stubbornly refused. It got so bad they even went to a psychologist, who said that the best thing Dad could do was back off and let Sebastian be.
But Dad could no more back off than Sebastian could be obedient. They were polar forces, feeding off each other’s determination. From the start there was violence. As Sebastian grew older, spankings by hand gave way to spankings by paddle, which gave way to slaps, punches, then all-out fistfights. Mom and I were stunned into silence by the poisonous brutality between them. People at school noticed Sebastian’s bruises. Social services got involved. A few times the police were called. Neighbors gossiped. Rumors spread. People around town began to avoid us. Mom sank inward and became depressed and withdrawn.
I ran.