Hannah
Time seemed to slow and Hannah focused on her breathing.
The room expanded, and everyone collected in the darkened room seemed like players on a stage. She felt above and removed, shock and disbelief pulling the moment long, making it strange. Stranger than it already was.
Trina and Josh stood at the door; the tall woman was holding a gun. Joshua looked frightened and unsure, shifting from foot to foot, eyes darting back and forth between Trina and Cricket.
Bruce had placed his body between Hannah, Cricket, and the intruders. Outside the storm raged, lightning casting the wet world in a white glow every few minutes, thunder answering.
Hannah clutched the knife.
Mako knelt on the floor, a motionless Liza in his arms.
Liza—was she dying before their eyes? All that blood, was it too late? She’d slowed the bleeding, and Liza’s pulse was stronger. But maybe they wouldn’t be able to save her.
Hannah felt her heart in her chest, her throat had turned to sandpaper with fear.
One question only in her mind now: How are we going to get out of here and back to our daughter?
She thought of her little baby peacefully sleeping. Please, she prayed. Please, God.
Hannah felt her mind clear, her focus turn to a laser. She had always been good at that, boiling the moment down to its essence. What needed to be done.
This woman.
She wanted something.
What was it? Probably money and that was easy enough. But no, she could see the anger on the other woman’s face, her hatred. She knew the look—a woman who had been wronged and was out of choices on how to get even. All women knew that look—when you’d been hurt, dismissed, had something taken from you, but were powerless to bring any justice. Stronger forces knocked you over, made you feel small and helpless. In that space, maybe you did a wrong thing to make yourself feel stronger. That was it, right? Mako had harassed her, or worse. When she complained, he fired her. Hannah could fix this.
“Trina,” she said, keeping her voice level and soft. “Why are you here? What did my brother do to you?”
Because that’s what it was, right? Another one of Mickey’s messes. Had he wronged her? Raped her? Hurt her?
“You were supposed to tie them up,” Trina said, obviously talking to Joshua but looking at Hannah. The other woman’s eyes were dark and cool. They were Mickey’s eyes.
In fact, how had she not noticed it before—all the times she’d seen the other woman at Red World, company picnics, parties.
Trina looked a lot like Mickey. And so did Josh. The cylinders locked into place.
That was it.
“Brother,” she said. Trina looked at her and smiled.
That was why she thought she knew Josh when they first met, because he looked so much like her own brother. Some kind of cognitive dissonance had kept her from making the connections.
Then something truly ugly started to dawn. The Origins test. Holy fuck.
Were they all related? Joshua, Trina, Mako? She grappled with the moment. But she couldn’t make sense of it.
“I’m sorry,” said Joshua from behind Trina.
He looked miserable, was staring at Cricket with the energy of a beaten dog.
Hannah identified him as a weak link; maybe he’d side with them if things got ugly. Uglier.
Hannah lifted her palms and used her reasonable voice—the one she used when her mother was upset, when Cricket was having a meltdown, even with Mako when he was worked up about something.
“Look, Trina, whatever Mako did to you, we can deal with it, okay,” said Hannah. “But Liza? She’s hurt. And whatever this is she isn’t part of it. So let us get her some help. Please.”
“She’s part of it, of course she is. Another weak, enabling woman. And, she was carrying his child, another bad seed.”
Hannah shook her head, trying to grasp her meaning. “I don’t understand. You wanted to hurt an unborn baby.”
Trina looked suddenly sad. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. But we’re apples—fallen from the same poisonous tree. I’m actually trying to help. To clean up this mess.”
A single tear trailed down the other woman’s face.
“Okay,” Hannah said. “Then let me help you, Trina. Let me help you find a way out of this.”
“It wasn’t my baby,” said Mako, still weeping. “Or maybe it wasn’t.”
“What do you mean?” asked Hannah.
“Liza had an affair—which she ended. She didn’t think I knew. But I did. I just couldn’t lose her. She’s the only good thing in my life.”
Hannah didn’t have words, felt like the ground was shifting beneath her feet. They were all so flawed, weren’t they? So many layers and mistakes, bad judgments, failures.
Trina stared at Mako, her face twisted in anger and disgust. “You’re pathetic,” she said.
But Mako didn’t seem to hear. He just looked back to Liza, put a tender hand to her face.
“Tie them up,” Trina said, glancing back quickly to Joshua but keeping the gun pointed at Hannah, Cricket, and Bruce who all stood frozen in place.
Hannah searched for the flash of humanity she’d seen but Trina’s face was made from marble. Cold and still, unmoved. She didn’t care, Hannah realized, about any of them, about anything except whatever agenda she might be running. “Do it now.”
Josh shifted, still with his eyes on Cricket. “I left the bag back at the house.”
“Men. They are fucking useless,” Trina hissed. “Take the zip ties in my pocket.”
Of course she had zip ties in her pocket.
Josh moved slowly, reluctantly, toward her pocket when Bruce took a big step forward. Hannah gripped his arm and Trina raised the gun, backing up into Josh.
“Just don’t, Bruce,” she said, sounding tired. “You’re not part of this. I know you’ve worked to do the right thing here.”
Bruce looked back at Hannah. What did that mean?
“And I don’t want to kill you but I will. I promise you.” Hannah didn’t doubt her. There was something unhinged beneath the cool exterior, something broken.
“Not part of what?” Hannah ventured.
But Trina didn’t even seem to register her, as if Hannah didn’t exist.
Joshua did as he was told, removing a long plastic bag from Trina’s pocket.
Hannah calculated—distance, strength. That gun. How good was Trina’s aim? How fast could she fire it?
Cricket wept quietly beside her.
Trina pointed the gun at Bruce again. “You help him get Cricket and Hannah secure. Keep them out of the way and you all walk out of here. Okay, Bruce? You’re the straight arrow here, right? The good guy.”
Hannah still had a grip on her husband’s arm. She couldn’t see his face but she could imagine his expression—cool, almost blank, reading the situation, calculating, just like Hannah. Did he believe Trina? That if he tied them up, she’d let them all go?
Hannah did not.
This woman was going to kill them all, wasn’t she?
She made the decision right there. This wasn’t going to end without a fight. She heard Cricket weeping behind her, holding tight to her arm.
Time seemed to slow and stretch, outside the storm tossing the trees and wind moaning through the cabin.
Joshua moved toward them with the zip ties, his passage halting. His eyes hadn’t left Cricket, who sobbed now, “Joshua, please don’t do this. Whatever she has on you, whatever the reason you’re with her, we’ll get through it. I’ll help you. We’ll find a way. Please.”
Joshua seemed to hesitate, looked at Trina.
“Joshua, do you want to go to jail?” Trina asked. “Because if we don’t finish this and get out of here, that’s where you’re going. Do you think this little tramp will wait for you?”
Josh seemed to find some inner resolve and moved toward them.
“Sorry,” said Bruce, his voice dark, squaring his shoulders. He cleared his throat and Hannah heard his voice shake. “This is—not going to happen.”
“Just tell us why you’re here, Trina, what you want,” said Hannah, this time louder.
Hannah heard Libby’s teenage voice, sobbing. He raped me.
“Put the knife down,” said Trina. “Kick it over here.”
Everyone was frozen, the rain pounding on the roof, the windows.
“Do it!” Trina shrieked. “Or I’m going to kill your fucking husband, and your stupid friend, and your raping, embezzling, money-laundering brother.”
Hannah looked at her brother, all the rumors about him and Red World.
“None of that is true,” said Mako, looking at Hannah. But she saw that look, the same look he gave her the night she caught him with Libby. It wasn’t guilt or shame. It was self-knowledge.
“And that’s not even all of it,” said Trina.
What else? Hannah wondered. What else was he capable of?
“You know, Hannah. Look at you. You know what he is.”
She and the other woman locked eyes. In that moment, there was a whole universe of understanding—about Mako, about men, about the world.
“Don’t you ever get tired of cleaning up after him?”
Trina kept the gun trained on Hannah. And Hannah could see Trina, too—how far gone she was, what she would be willing to do.
Hannah dropped the knife and kicked it toward Trina. It spun over the wood floor, blade glinting. Hannah felt that tension, the one she used to feel on the diving block, before the whistle blew and her body would fly through the air, slice into the water, and she would start to swim with all her strength. She edged forward, knowing that Bruce could feel her. She gave his hand a hard squeeze and he pressed back. They were a team; they both understood what had to happen next. They had to fight. For Gigi.
Josh moved forward and Bruce lifted a hand. His voice sounded like a growl when he spoke. “Stay away from us.”
The lightning flashed, and Hannah saw the great jagged streak of electricity through the window. When the giant crack of thunder sounded, shuddering the whole cabin, Hannah flew, rushing Trina, crashing her body into the other woman.
It didn’t matter who Trina was, or what she wanted, just that Hannah and Bruce got home to Gigi.
As Hannah made hard contact, bone on bone, flesh on flesh, the gun fired—her ears ringing, filling her senses with the smell of cordite. Hannah heard the gun clatter to the floor as they both hit the ground hard. Hannah landed on top of the taller woman, her weight pushing all the air from Trina in a great rush.
Then it was mayhem, with Bruce rushing Joshua as Hannah thought he would, and Cricket screaming. Mako was bent over Liza, holding her and looking on like he was helpless, eyes glassy.
“Mako,” she yelled. “Do something!”
But he didn’t seem to hear her.
The knife. The gun. Where were they?
Hannah could see them both—just out of reach in opposite directions.
The other woman struggled, and Hannah punched her hard in the face. The pain radiated up her arm, skin on her knuckles splitting, burning. She hit the other woman again. Then, Hannah, still on top of Trina, pinning the other woman with her weight, reached over her for the gun.
Just as she almost got it, the other woman grabbed for her, and then Trina was on top, pinning Hannah to the ground, the gun skittering away from Hannah’s grasp. Hannah writhed free to scramble for the knife, with Trina right on top of her, a hard knee in her back.
“Just stop,” Trina said through gritted teeth. “Let me end him.”
Hannah watched Bruce land a solid punch to Joshua’s jaw, just as Trina grabbed Hannah’s hair to keep her from getting closer to the knife.
“Cricket,” Hannah screamed, as Trina brought another painful knee into her ribs. “Get the gun.”
Bruce and Joshua were on the ground now, rolling and punching. Hannah felt herself losing strength. She reached, stretched painfully, for the gleaming knife.
Just one more inch.
Trina was on top of her again, grabbing at her arm.
Hannah felt herself weaken, air being pushed from her lungs. She realized then that she was bleeding, blood gushing from her arm. The pulse of adrenaline kept the pain at bay.
But the room was starting to fade.
No, she thought. Gigi.
Another lightning flash.
Another deafening crack of thunder.
Then two shots rang out. And the world seemed to come to a stuttering stop.