CHAPTER ELEVEN

Cookies Are Delicious

 

Rhema ran back into her house, up the stairs, and jumped into the shower, cleaning every inch of her body. She doused herself in peroxide first, then lathered up with her best soap. When she got out, she draped herself in a bathrobe and went to check on Elsea. She stepped into the room and found Elsea hunched over on the floor in the corner, crying. She was clean, her hair dry, and her face freshly made up, and the welt from Hannah smacking her was gone.

“Get up!” Rhema said.

She walked over to Elsea and grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over to the bed.

“Call the police,” Elsea pleaded. “I don’t think that I can live with myself.”

Rhema grabbed her by the jaw. “Look at me. I know that you feel terrible right now, but I just risked my neck to save yours. She beat you. She took everything away from you. Your confidence, your happiness. Fuck her. She is exactly where she should be.” Rhema grabbed Elsea’s hand and opened it. She poured out two Xanax pills and handed her the bottle of vodka. “Take these.”

Elsea hesitated, but Rhema’s stare put the fear of death in her, so she did what she was told, and fast. Rhema left the room and went to finish cleaning up after herself. When she came back ten minutes later, Elsea was out cold.

Perfect, she thought.

Rhema left the room and went downstairs to the kitchen. The only thing she could do now was wait. It was only a matter of time before the Kellys came home and found the girl. Rhema sat at the kitchen table and rewarded herself, eating the cookies she had made. A smile stretched across her face as she chewed. They tasted pretty damn good, and she was slightly disappointed that there wasn’t going to be a party.

 

***

Rhema heard the Kellys’ cries, and ten minutes after that, the sound of sirens made their way down the street. She knew that there would be no peace for a while. A young, beautiful suburban girl who had just been murdered in her own home was going to make national news, especially in Carmel. She pulled back the curtains and took a peek at the spectacle outside. The street was being blocked off with crime scene tape.

Then she saw David and Julian trying to get past the blockade, but an officer pointed them in the opposite direction. She let the curtains fall back in place and walked out of the front door and down the driveway toward the mailbox. The rest of the neighbors started to congregate on their lawns. It was almost six o’clock, so it was dark, and the red and blue lights coming from the emergency vehicles were blinding.

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to go back inside your home,” a young officer said, pointing her in the direction of her house.

Rhema was distracted by how handsome he was, but she had a role to play. She brushed her hair away from her face before she spoke. “Excuse me? What is going on here?” Rhema demanded.

“I need you to go back inside your home, ma’am. An officer will be over to speak with you shortly,” he said, towering above Rhema.

“Wait, that’s my husband and son,” Rhema said, pointing down the street.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but they are going to have to wait there until we are done. This street has been closed. This is a crime scene.”

“The whole freaking street?” Rhema asked.

But he ignored her and walked away.

Rhema flipped him off when his back was turned, then walked back into the house and called David. After she told him that she was fine, she went upstairs to check on Elsea, and as she hoped, she was still knocked out cold.

Rhema sat at the window for what seemed like hours, watching the officers go in and out, carrying clipboards and all other kinds of stuff. She was growing impatient, so she stepped outside again to see if David was still parked down the street. As she walked down her driveway toward the sidewalk, an officer started walking toward her. With him was a woman in some dress slacks, a white button-up, and a wool leather coat. That was the detective, and she was ready for her. It wasn’t her first encounter with one, and at the rate she was going, it probably wouldn’t be her last.

“Hello, ma’am,” the detective said, reaching out a hand to shake hers. “I’m Detective Merch.”

“Hi—”

“How well do you know the family next door?”

“I mean, pretty well. I was just at their daughter’s graduation party the other night. Is everything all right?” Rhema asked. “Has there been a robbery? I know this time of year—”

“No, ma’am, there’s been a murder.” She looked down at her notes and back up at Rhema.

Rhema pressed her hands against her face in dramatic fashion. “What! Oh my God! Who? Their daughter is asleep in my guest room right now. I was trying to tell one of the officers, but he kept brushing me off.”

“Asleep? Have you not tried to wake her?”

“Oh my God, my son! Do you know who did it? Are they still out there?”

“Ma’am, did you—”

“Yes, I tried to wake her,” Rhema said, frustrated, “but she had been drinking and took some Xanax I gave her, so she’s out cold. Who was it?”

“Why did you give her that? You know it’s illegal—”

“Oh my God, who was it? Could you please tell me?” Rhema pleaded.

“A young female—”

“Hannah?” Rhema shrieked. Despair was the goal. Rhema knew that her face needed to register despair but not too much.

The intensity in the detective’s face diminished a bit, but it was obvious that the job was wearing on her. It wouldn’t be much longer before she was sitting behind a desk full-time.

“Ma’am, why did you—”

“Why do we do anything? I was trying to help her. The girl has been through a lot these past couple of days. She had to cancel her wedding because she found out her fiancé was cheating on her, and now this? This is going to send her straight over the edge.”

“You need to wake her. We need to speak with her,” Merch said.

“Yes, come inside.”

Rhema led them upstairs to the guest bedroom, and there Elsea lay, looking like Sleeping Beauty. Merch attempted to wake her, but it was no use.

She turned to look at the other officer. “Get an EMT in here. Get her sober and alert. I want to speak with her as soon as she comes to.” She turned back to Rhema. “How long has she been here?”

“Four, five hours or so, maybe six,” Rhema said. “She came over here after she got tired of listening to Hannah and her boyfriend argue.” Rhema covered her mouth in shock. “Oh my God, that’s right. They were arguing. I heard them early this afternoon, going back and forth. I think someone was cheating on the other.”

“When did you hear that?” the detective asked.

“Around noonish, I think. Can I please see my husband and son? They are stuck down the street. Can they please come home? It’s Christmas Eve.”

“They can come home when we’re finished. Not sure when that will be.” Detective Merch looked back down at her notes, and Rhema’s face of despair turned into a scowl, but as soon as she lifted her head, the despair returned.

Rhema followed behind the EMTs as they escorted Elsea out of the house, still high from her drug and liquor-fueled haze.

Detective Merch walked in front of Rhema but spoke to her as she walked. “Have you seen the boyfriend?”

When she stepped back outside into the cold night, she saw them wheeling the body out. The sobs from Mr. and Mrs. Kelly could be heard throughout the entire street. News crews were everywhere, and when she looked across the lawn, there was Cheating Kyle yapping away to Channel 6 News. She’d have to wait and tune in to see what he had to say later.

When the street had cleared of the coroner’s van and most of the police vehicles, David and Julian were finally allowed to come home. She thought about Elsea and wondered how they were questioning her. Were they even able to question her? She smiled at the thought. There was nothing to worry about. She’d trained Elsea well in those two short hours.

Rhema loved this game, and she knew that victory would be hers.