Chapter 55
Cora’s eyelids felt heavy, and her head and shoulders ached. Was she dreaming? She lifted her eyelids with a struggle and looked straight into Jo’s cold eyes.
“Jo? Wha—” Cora started to say before Jo clamped her hand across Cora’s mouth.
“Be quiet,” Jo said. Her voice was the same soft voice but now edged in menace, unfeeling, cold. Cora nodded, as her heart quickened. Racing.
When Jo pulled her hand away, Cora sucked in air, closed her eyes, and concentrated on a breathing exercise. In, one, two, three, out, one, two, three. She tried to tamp down the panic she felt creeping into her. She swallowed hard. No panic attacks. Remain as calm as possible. Your nervous breakdown can happen afterward. Now she willed herself to calm.
She opened her eyes, and since Jo had moved away from her view, she could now see that Zee was sitting on the couch next to Lulu—both of them had their arms and feet tied and tape across their mouths. Both of them were slumped over in odd positions, not conscious.
Cora batted her eyes into seeing clearly. Were they dead? She sucked in air.
Jo paced around the room, the front room, so beautifully appointed. She placed her hands on the baby grand piano, running them along its smooth edges, then commenced pacing.
The room was stale, and Cora caught whiffs of a foul stench.
She struggled to put some thoughts together. Evidently, Lulu and Zee had been in this room all night. So maybe they had been here since yesterday. What was Jo hoping to accomplish? If she had meant to kill them, then they were certainly already dead. So, why was Jo still here?
She must want something. But what?
She’d killed Stan, evidently, and now was holding the sisters hostage, along with her. What did she want?
Cora tried to remember her classes on what to do if someone took you as hostage. Was it to not talk? Or to keep them talking? If only she could remember.
Jo stopped at the piano again and sat on the bench. Her fingers plucked out a song, tentatively. Then more forcefully, a haunting, lovely melody Cora couldn’t place. She shivered.
Zee’s body shifted as if she were waking up. Well, at least that signaled that Zee was still alive. Lulu remained still.
Breathe in, one, two, three, breathe out, one, two, three.
Breathe in, one, two, three, breathe out, one, two, three.
Cora’s heart beat slowed.
She remembered then the best thing to do when taken hostage was to keep calm, keep them calm, and try to engage them in conversation, something that allowed them to express themselves, feel like they were heard.
As Jo finished the tune, Cora cleared her throat.
“So lovely,” she said.
She smiled a half smile as she looked up at Cora. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
“I just came to give Zee back her handbag,” Cora said, nodding to the door, where she assumed the bag still hung on the knob.
“Ah, I see,” Jo said. Her voice was still kind and calm. As Cora knew she had killed Stan and held Zee and Lulu hostage, the soft, serene measure of Jo’s voice frightened her.
“What is going on here?” Cora said. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s my beef with those two, do you mean?”
Cora nodded. Jo walked toward her. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” she said. “You messed everything up. You and your helpful ways. Showing up.”
“What are you trying to do?” Cora said, her voice trembling a bit.
“At first, I just wanted to scare them,” she said. “But then, then, I saw how easy it was, you see. Now I can do anything I’d like to them. After all these years.”
Cora’s shoulders ached from the clumsy way Jo had tied her arms behind her back when she had passed out, making it difficult to suck in all the air she needed.
“How long have you known them?”
“We grew up together,” she said. “I’ve known them my whole life, ya see.”
“What . . .”
“You ask a lot of questions,” Jo said. “You’re not in any position.”
“Sorry,” Cora said. “I’m just trying to understand.”
Jo turned away, and the room’s silence pressed on Cora. What did Stan and Zee and Lulu have in common? It had to have something to do with the theater. Or music?
Sorting through things people said over the past few days about him, she had to wonder ... were Jo and Stan an item? Dare she ask? She thought the better of it. Jo must not comprehend Cora’s awareness of her killing Stan. She’d play stupid. Pretend this was all about Zee and Lulu.
But then her body began to take over. It was the most frightening thing about panic attacks, the way the body knew, the way the body responded and took over. Her breathing exercises were no longer doing her any good. She gasped, choking on air as her chest squeezed.
“Cora?” Jo turned to her.
Her eyes widened in shock, as Cora struggled for air.
She grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her. “What’s wrong?”
Cora was beyond speaking. Her chest burned and her body gave in. Jo sobbed. Cora tried to lift her head and breathe, but her eyes blurred, she didn’t feel as if she was getting any oxygen. If only she could get enough air to speak, maybe she could talk with Jo. Calm her. How could she help Jo when she struggled so hard herself? Finally, she gave in and let go, her head falling forward.