Allison peered over the steering wheel, searching the mailboxes and down the driveways as she drove past.
She was probably making the biggest mistake of her life, but she had to know why.
She’d seen the driver of the car that struck her, but she hadn’t told the police or Jim when she’d woken up in the hospital. At least she’d left detailed voicemails for the detective and Jim when she checked herself out of the hospital and taken a car service home to get her own car. Jim had finally left to go home to shower and change after she convinced him she was fine. He hadn’t left her bedside in two days.
There, that was the house. She recognized it. She’d been here a few times with her parents for parties.
Allison glanced at her phone on the passenger seat. She’d turned it off after leaving the voicemails so no one would distract her from her goal or sway her to change her mind.
No, she had to do this.
Allison climbed out of the car and shut the door. The contemporary house loomed over the landscape. The manicured yard and house all looked the same.
She started up the paver walkway and rang the bell like she was on a social call instead of confronting the person responsible for trying to kill her at least once—probably multiple times.
The door opened to reveal the bell-shaped blonde hairdo she’d worn since Allison was a child. Ms. Thompson would reprimand her anytime she got too close to the breakables, as she had called them. She’d always been standoffish, but Allison had never suspected she was a murderer behind her polished facade.
“You should know the police are on their way, but I wanted to see your face for myself and hear your reason why.”
Her bosom heaved as her black gaze darted behind Allison.
She tried to slam the door in her face, but Allison slapped her hand on the door and placed her foot in the way. Pain shot up her already injured arm and leg.
The woman turned and ran into the house.
Allison stepped in and left the door open, hoping the police were close but not too close. She wanted answers first.
The suspicions churning in her mind were growing blacker by the minute. The rage grew too, so much her body shook.
Ms. Thompson reappeared with a gun in her hands pointed at Allison. “You’re a stupid fool to come here alone.”
Allison paused with her hand against the gray wall. She sucked in a breath. Was this how her life would end?
She dropped her hand and raised her chin. “Maybe, but you won’t get away with it. I was telling the truth about the police. I told them everything. I wanted to see your face when you confessed.”
Allison stared at the woman her parents had let into their home on so many occasions. The woman they had trusted. Was her husband involved?
The threats didn’t start until she talked to Dr. Thompson about the fire. Was he the man who bought the candles? Was his wife the anonymous caller to the police, which led to Allison’s arrest? She was the one who had tried to run her over with her car.
“Where’s your husband?”
Ms. Thompson blinked and waved the gun. “At work, of course. You think he’ll save you? Albert’s a blind old fool. He believes anything I tell him. I’ll tell him you went crazy, and I had to defend myself.”
“So he hasn’t been helping you this entire time? He doesn’t know you tried to kill me with your car? Or burn me alive in my house?” Allison stared hard at the woman’s expression, ignoring the gun pointed at her entirely. “Send me threatening packages and phone calls? Kill my parents?”
“You should have died that night too!”
Allison lunged at her, grabbing the gun and wrenching it towards her.
The murdering psychopath shrieked at her and pulled the trigger. The shot whizzed by and hit the wall somewhere behind her.
Pain lashed at her back and arm while they wrestled over the gun. Her recent injuries weakened her, but anger coursed through her veins. This woman had killed her parents!
Allison kicked at her knee, and Ms. Thompson dropped to the floor, dragging Allison with her.
The gun went off again.
Blood bloomed on the woman’s shoulder over her heart.
Horror etched her face.
Allison scrambled to a stand with the gun clutched in her clammy hands. She pointed it at Ms. Thompson, bleeding on the floor. Sweat soaked her skin, making her grasp slick. She tightened her hold and widened her stance. Her chest heaved with panicked breaths.
“Help me!” The murderer clamped her hands over her wound and sobbed.
“Tell me why!”
She shook her head as her gaze darted around the room. Gasps and sobs mixed as tears tracked rivers through her makeup. She stared at Allison with a trembling chin.
“Your father found out I was stealing. Forging prescriptions and embezzling funds from the practice. He was going to tell Albert and turn me in! I didn’t mean to kill him! I panicked and grabbed a bookend from the shelf and hit him on the back of his head when he turned to pick up the phone. He slumped forward and hit his head on the edge of the desk. I checked his pulse, but he was dead. What was I to do? I couldn’t be arrested for murder!”
“So instead of being arrested for one murder, you went for three and burned the house down?”
“I couldn’t go to prison! I saw the candle, so I lit it and set the curtains on fire.” She raised a hand towards her. “Please call an ambulance!”
Allison stood with her finger on the trigger. It would be so easy to pull it. No one would question her.
Blood drenched the woman’s white blouse. She would probably bleed out if Allison didn’t call nine-one-one.
She could watch the life fade from her eyes, knowing that her parents’ murderer was dead.
“Who was the man who bought the candles?” Did she have an accomplice? Was she lying to protect Dr. Thompson?
Ms. Thompson whimpered. “I don’t know. Just a beggar on the street. I paid him a hundred dollars to go in the store and have them sent to you.”
“How did you know about my husband?”
She sneered. “You act all innocent, but you’re guilty too.” Her face turned white, and she closed her eyes and moaned. “I bought a listening device online and sat in the bathroom next door during your appointment. I heard every word. It would have been the answer to everything. You wouldn’t be digging into the past if you were in prison. But, of course, you slipped out of that too.” Ms. Thompson coughed and sobbed into the carpet.
Blood stained the beige carpet.
Allison pulled her phone from her back pocket where she had stuffed it while getting out of the car. She glanced at it. It was still recording.
She’d planned to have evidence of her attacker’s guilt for the police.
Now she supposed her own guilt was being recorded. The guilt of wanting the woman who ruined her life dead.
Allison stopped the recording. She could delete it. No one would know.
Instead, she dialed nine-one-one and reported the shooting.
She grabbed a blanket from the sofa and tossed it to her. “Hold it over the wound.”
Ms. Thompson sobbed and begged for her life.
Allison raised her chin and dropped the gun to her side. She walked over and placed it on a table next to the sofa.
She was done living with guilt.