head again. She was crying. Even in the rain, Lydia could see the tears streaming down her face.
“I was never going to leave you.” Paul was crying, too. “I love you. I promise, Claire. I love you with my dying breath.”
Claire finally looked down at her husband. Her mouth opened, but only to take in air. Her eyes tracked back and forth like she couldn’t quite understand what was in front of her.
Was she seeing the old Paul in this moment, the insecure grad student who so desperately wanted her to love him? Or was she seeing the man who had filmed those movies? The man who for twenty-four years had kept the dark secret that had haunted her family?
Paul reached up to Claire. “Please. I’m dying. Just give me this. Please.”
She shook her head, but Lydia could tell her resolve was breaking.
So could Paul. He said, “Please.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Claire knelt down beside him. She let the gun fall to the grass. She placed her hand over his. She was helping him staunch the wound, helping him stay alive.
Paul coughed. Blood spit between his lips. He tightened his grip on his wounded neck. “I love you. No matter what, always know that I love you.”
Claire held back a sob. She stroked his cheek. She brushed the hair out of his eyes. She gave him a sad smile and said, “You stupid asshole. I know you put Julia in the well.”
Lydia would have missed Paul’s shocked looked if she hadn’t been watching his face. He quickly rearranged his expression into one of open delight. “My God, you were always so clever.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” Claire was still leaning over him. Lydia thought she was going to kiss him, but instead, Claire peeled his hand away from his wounded neck. Paul struggled to resist, to stop the flow of blood, but Claire held tight to his hand. She pushed him onto his back. His strength was gone. He couldn’t stop the blood. He couldn’t stop Claire. She straddled his waist. She pinned down both of his wrists. She kept looking him in the eye, drinking in every change that crossed his face—the disbelief, the fear, the desperation. His heart was frantically pounding. Every beat sent out a fresh spray of arterial blood. Claire did not look away when his mouth gaped open, or when rain thumped the back of his throat. She held his gaze as the spray from his neck turned into a steady flow. As his hands unclenched. As his muscles relaxed. As his body slackened. Even when the only indication that Paul was still alive was the heavy wheeze of his breaths and the pink bubbles between his lips, Claire did not look away.
“I see you,” she told him. “I see exactly who you are.”
Lydia was dumbstruck. She couldn’t believe what was happening right in front of her. What she had allowed her sister to do. They couldn’t come back from this. There was no way Claire would ever come back from this.
“Come on.” Claire was talking to Lydia. She stood up. She wiped her bloody hands on her pants like she’d just come in from the garden.
Lydia still couldn’t move. She looked at Paul. The bubbles had stopped. She could see the flames from the house reflecting in the glassy black of his irises.
A drop of rain hit his eyeball. He didn’t blink.
“Liddie.”
Lydia turned away. Claire was in the back yard. The rain was really coming down now. Claire didn’t seem to notice. She was kicking at the grass, pushing her way through the overgrowth.
“Come on,” Claire called. “Help me.”
Somehow, Lydia managed to leverage herself up. She was still in shock. That was the only reason the pain didn’t stop her. She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. She made herself ask Claire, “What are you doing?”
“There’s a well!” Claire had to raise her voice to be heard over the rain. She was kicking at the weeds with her bare feet, making wide circles on the ground. “The property taxes said the house was on city water.” Her excitement was barely contained. She had the same breathlessness as when she used to tell Lydia a story about the mean girls at school. “I did a painting for Paul. Years ago. It was from a photograph of the back yard. He showed it to me when we were first dating and he said he loved the view because it reminded him of home, and