RILEY

Groans escape from Dez. They start deep in his throat but are stifled by the dishtowel stuffed in his mouth. His guttural pleas rise and fall. Everything inside me tightens.

It is the most frightening sound I’ve ever heard.

I stop moving, stop breathing. I can’t take anymore. I just want it all to end. Marcus stands in front of me now, holding a pair of old metal shears to my throat. And that’s when the flashbacks come.

A timeline begins to develop …

Last year, Marcus was always waiting in the wings any time I went to Ms. Dunn’s classroom to talk. I can still see the strange looks he’d give me when I left her room. Angry. Possessive. Unsettling.

And during her prayer service, he was totally on edge. He was a ticking time bomb, picking fights and talking shit. Just waiting for someone to do something to justify his wrath.

How did I not see it?

I remember the way he interrupted me when I was looking at the film footage from the day of her murder. And the way he touched her statues the day Homer brought them to me.

My reverie ends when I feel the blade of the scissors touch my skin. It’s cold and heavy. Marcus tests it, running the pointy tip down from the hollow under my ear, along my neck, to my shoulder.

Dez groans.

The blade takes little bites as Marcus varies the pressure in the movement. The open skin burns when the air hits it.

My eyes stay on Dez. I try to talk to him with my eyes. He continues to struggle, continues to fight. I try to tell him it’s okay. I’m glad Marcus moved to me first. I couldn’t stand to watch him hurt Dez, no matter what’s happened between us.

Marcus pulls the scissors away and, out of the corner of my eye, I can see him change his grip. I hold my breath and I get lost in Dez’s eyes again. This is it. My mind flashes to my parents. To Ms. Dunn. To …

A person springing forward in the darkness … someone who takes a glass vase and clubs Marcus in the head.

He drops to the floor—just a few measly feet in front of me.

My eyes adjust to the surroundings while my brain tries to make sense of it all. Soon I can make out our savior.

It’s Stella.

Then it all happens so fast, I can barely keep up. There are voices and movement all around me, but all I can think about is Marcus almost killing us. Just like he did to Ms. Dunn. Beautiful, amazing Ms. Dunn.

In my mind, I see him with the scissors. Stabbing her. Watching the life drain from her.

My breath hitches and the tears flow. He was here the whole time.

I feel like I’m sinking.

Until I focus on Stella.

She doesn’t let up. As Marcus lies on the floor, Stella smashes the vase on his head again—this time so hard that it shatters everywhere. Rivers of blood flow down his face, pooling on the floor. He lies still.

I smell the rusty stench of his blood and my head goes foggy. Then there’s a cold blade at my wrist as Stella uses the scissors to cut me free.

I rub my wrists, still paralyzed in my seat.

Stella moves to release Dez, and he’s at my side in an instant.

“We’ve got to get out of here, Riley.” He’s trying to yell, but he’s hoarse. He and Stella each take one of my arms and we all run out of the house.

Then Dez is gone.

Seconds later, he’s with Bernie, running across the lawn.

“Get the girls inside, Dez,” Bernie says, rushing into my house in full PD mode.

Trudy holds open the door and we run in.

“Holy fuck, Stella.” Dez is staring at her in awe. “You’re Orange, man. You’re better than Mr. Orange.”

Dez stumbles around; he must be in shock or something. Trudy helps him sit down. He puts his head between his legs, trying to get his bearings.

Stella raises her eyebrows. She’s just as messed up as me and Dez.

“Mr. Orange is the hero in Reservoir Dogs,” I tell her. “He saved the cop—at least for a while.” I’m rambling. “It’s the highest compliment Dez could ever give.”

Trudy moves to my side and settles me on the couch as well. She strokes my hair and holds me and Dez, rocking us like she did when we were little.

I let her.

As my head finally begins to clear, I have a terrible thought.

Emma.

What if he hurt her too?

Stella looks at me and I whisper, “Emma.”

“On it.” Stella gently touches my arm and steps away, quickly hitting the keys on her phone.

I sit there on Dez’s couch, rocking back and forth. Dez takes the blanket from the arm of the sofa and wraps me in it. He’s shaking. Trudy is now at the window, both guarding us from the danger and waiting for a sign from Bernie.

Stella gets off her phone, crouches down in front of me, and puts a hand to my cheek. “She’s okay, Riley. Emma is fine.” I drop my head to her shoulder and she holds me. “You’re okay, Rye. Everything is going to be okay now.”

We sit there in silence until the sirens ring out from every direction. A man’s voice barks orders outside, and men in uniform move across the Brandts’ yard. As I get up to get a better look, Trudy shoos me away.

“Don’t even think about it,” she says, pointing back to the couch. “Sit.”

We sit for what seems like hours until Trudy whispers, “Oh, thank God.”

And I know Bernie is safe.

This time, Dez and Stella join me as I move toward the window. There must be a dozen cops swarming around. They part down the middle as two men move a gurney out my front door.

It’s Marcus.

The EMTs push him into an ambulance and two police officers jump in the back to stand guard.

He’s caught. It’s finally over.

Maybe everything will be okay now.

I wish I could feel relief, but I don’t.

All I have left are questions.

I start peppering Stella with them. “How did you know? Why did you come?”

She looks at Dez and smiles. “Dez figured it out. He saw the same footprints in the parking lot today that were in Bernie’s crime photos. Since he knew you wouldn’t take his calls, he called me on the way to your house—and when I couldn’t get ahold of you, I had a bad feeling. I came as fast as I could.”

A feeling? A feeling saved us?

“I didn’t know who the killer was, at first,” Dez says. “I just knew he goes to our school. If I knew he’d come after you, Rye, I would’ve called Bernie right away.” Dez rests his head on his fist. “I’m so sorry.”

I never heard a word sound so heavy. I meet his eyes now because I know.

I know how sorry he is.