he snarled and popped Shana in the nose. Her head snapped back. I heard a crunching sound, most likely her nose exploding. But she recovered quickly, going for his throat, her fingers squeezed together to form a human blade.
Up, up. Come on, Adeline, time to stand up.
Shana hit him. Three, four times. Her speed seemed to be returning, her system clearing. But she remained a bantamweight, a thin, wiry female taking on a larger, stronger male.
Charlie nailed her hard. Jab, jab, uppercut. She stumbled back; then he slugged her again in the eye, hard, fierce shots. A man who’d clearly spent some time in a boxing ring. A man who relished pain.
Scalpel. In the duffel bag. On my feet now. I found it. Hair strands fell to the floor. Smooth silver handle took their place.
One step forward, then another, the blade held tightly at my side.
Shana trapped in a corner, Charlie pounding on her mercilessly. She didn’t appear desperate, however. In the spare moments when I could see her face, I saw nothing but pure determination. She’d come to kill this man. And apparently, she wasn’t stopping till she died trying.
Charlie didn’t notice me. Locked on my sister, grunting with the force behind each explosive blow, he existed in his own world. One where he was finally strong enough, smart enough, tough enough, to take down the legendary Shana Day.
Another step, then I stood directly behind him. Scalpel raised. One last breath:
I am my father. I am my mother.
I am the family conscience.
I drove the scalpel down between his shoulders, severing muscles, nerves, tendons. Calling upon four years of medical school to pick my mark with expert care, so that the blade slipped deep between the vertebrae, where I then twisted it for maximum damage.
Charlie’s body sagged. His head turned slightly, and I could see his stunned expression. He opened his mouth as if to howl.
But no sound ever came out. Shana wrenched the scalpel from his back and, in one smooth move, sliced it across his exposed throat.
Charlie Sgarzi fell forward. My sister stepped out of the way.
Just as knocking came on the front door.
• • •
“POLICE!” PHIL CRIED OUT. “Dr. Glen, this is Detective Phil. Can you hear me?”
Shana and I looked at each other. Neither of us said a word.
“Adeline.” A different voice. D. D. Warren’s. “Are you okay? Your neighbors have reported sounds of a disturbance. Adeline, open the door if you can. We need to confirm you’re all right.”
My sister and I still looking at each other.
A fresh sound. Louder. Most likely Detective Phil, testing his shoulder against the door.
“They’ll get the building manager,” I informed Shana quietly. “He’ll let them in.”
“How long?”
“Five, ten minutes.”
“Long enough,” she said, and I knew what she meant. I had made a promise to her this morning in the prison interview room. Now it was time for me to deliver.
We didn’t talk. We walked to the bathroom together, Shana already shedding clothes as she went. The aspirin was still out, part of the medical kit sitting on the counter. I handed her four tablets. She swallowed them as a single fistful.
Then her fingers, running so lovingly around the tub. As I turned on the first faucet, then the second.
She didn’t wait for the water to achieve perfect temperature. Naked, her body a mess of long, roping scars and short, crisscrossed marks, she climbed in.
“I can’t go back,” she said.
I nodded. Because I’d known; I’d always known. What was the one thing my sister craved most after all these years? Freedom. Complete and total freedom. The kind that came only with death.
“You didn’t kill Donnie,” I told her, because I didn’t know if she even knew.
She shrugged, leaning her head back against the smooth white porcelain. “Hardly seems to matter.”
I could hear banging again. Phil trying to break down the door, no doubt while D.D. went in search of the building manager. I walked to the bathroom door. Shut it, locked it. Not the sturdiest door in the world, but at this stage, it was simply a matter of buying time.
“Were you in love with Charlie?” I asked my sister curiously. “Is that why you gave him some things from Dad? The items I guess he gave to Samuel Hayes.”
“Didn’t give him anything from Dad. But we talked about . . . from time to time. I knew he was different. He could fool others. But never me. A beast always recognizes another beast.” She sighed heavily. “I had a