AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Junior was sadwhen he was released back into the wilds of society a couple of months later,apparently cured of his pyromania, but she never forgot what she’d learned fromhim. And when she went to college, she was still interested enough in thescience behind the concept to make biochemistry her major.
Eventually, herfury over what was done to her in school faded and she decided move on,focusing her energy on educating kids who deserved better than she got. Andthat was great for a while. Her enthusiasm for becoming a teacher was a salveagainst the nightmares that invaded her sleep. Her excitement at helping anentire generation of kids meet their untapped potential temporarily muted theechoes of voices in her head, the ones telling her that she wasn’t good enough,pretty enough, smart enough—that her family would be happier if she was dead.
That was why shetook the job as a tutor for these wealthy families—because the money wouldexpedite her ability to get credentialed, pursue her master’s degree, and helpkids in need. But she hadn’t been prepared for what she faced.
These weren’t justkids who needed help with subtraction or understanding prepositions. They werethe scions of uber-rich, super-accomplished parents who expected theirchildren— some barely in kindergarten—to attend Ivy League schools or theequivalent. They pushed these kids, demanding that Junior drill themceaselessly, forcing them to give up playdates and sleepovers and any free timeat all in order to maximize their potential for an impressive future.
Junior had beenstruggling with her role in this process for a while now. The guilt wasexacerbated when she accepted payment to tutor some of these kids during whatshould have been their holiday breaks. But what finally made her crack was whenseven-year-old Lansing Langley had joked that a kid in his class was such a“retard” that he’d be lucky to get into a trade school. A seven-year-old boysaid that! Worse, Clarissa Langley had laughed at the comment, before realizingher error and correcting him.
“Don’t use thatword,” she scolded. “If a teacher hears it, you could get suspended. Thenyou’ll be the retard in trade school.”
Junior rememberedthinking that the woman must be making some kind of sick joke. But she’d meantit. Later that same night, Junior had gone to the home of Shane Willoughby totutor her eight-year-old son, Braden. While they worked on his multiplication tables,she could hear Shane and a friend talking in the other room over wine. Thefriend, who she later learned was named Avery Sinclair, was talking about agirl in her son’s class, and how the girl forgot her line in the winter play.
“If I was thatgirl,” she said acidly, “I would have gone home and slit my wrists that verynight. Frankly, if I thought I could get away with it, I would have whisperedthat very advice to her after the show. I mean, why draw out the suffering thatshe’s in for later in life, right? Just end it and save her parents the nextten years of public mortification.”
Something insideJunior shifted that night. She realized that helping these kids wasn’t enough.She could never teach them to change when their mothers were there, constantlypushing back, seeding them with evil intent. For it to be a fair fight, for thesekids to have any kind of chance at a future, the offending element had to beremoved. Once she came to that realization, everything else fell into place.
It was quitesimple after that. She went home that evening and dived in, doing all kinds ofresearch on how to most effectively concentrate gaseous botulinum toxin formaximum, rapid impact. It was amazing what one could do with a sciencebackground and access to the dark web. She studied how to use a timer-based,motion-activated canister to safely contain and then release the gas. Then shetested it.
Amazingly, withher background and a willingness to forego sleep, she had a working prototypein just weeks. When Lansing Langley mentioned at his tutoring session last weekthat he and his dad would be going to a Clippers game on Wednesday, Junior knewit was time. Clarissa would be home alone all afternoon and evening.
So at Lansing’sfinal tutoring session of the year on Monday, Junior had brought the canister.It hadn’t been hard to slip away and place it in Clarissa’s bedroom. Then, atthe appropriate time, she had activated it. The experiment was a smashingsuccess, at least according to the news. It worked again with Tabitha Reynolds.And then with Naomi Hackett.
Naomi had been amasterstroke, as well as the reason that Junior knew she wouldn’t be caught.Until late last week, she’d never even been to Naomi’s Playa Vista apartment.But she had a key, given to her by Naomi on the off chance that Olivia everspent the night there and needed a tutoring session. It had never happenedbecause Naomi would never deign to see her child during the week, much lessbring her to her private getaway.
So Junior had goneto Playa Vista on a Saturday, when the community hosted a farmers’ market,which Naomi had told her she frequented religiously. Junior left her phone inher car so that it wouldn’t show her exact location. Then she’d waited out ofsight, near Naomi’s apartment, until she left for the market. The rest wassimple. Junior unlocked the front door, planted the canister, and left theapartment in less than thirty seconds.
Avery Sinclair hadbeen harder. Junior didn’t yet have access to her home. But because the woman’swords about that poor girl who’d forgotten her line in the play resonated sodeeply in her memory, she decided that she couldn’t wait.
That was why shehad showed up at Sinclair’s house today, even though the woman hadn’t formallyagreed to hire her as a tutor. And that was why she had made the recklessdecision to sneak upstairs and hide the canister on Sinclair’s bookshelf.
Of course, thatplan had turned to crap. But not without a stunning silver lining. When Juniorhad been forced to use that trophy to protect herself from Sinclair’saggressive advance, she made an unexpected discovery.
While the poisongas canisters may have delivered poetic retribution, a sharp chunk of marbleoffered more immediate, visceral satisfaction. Until this afternoon, she hadnever gotten to personally see the impact of her efforts. She had to imaginethem and check news reports for verification that they’d worked.
But watching AverySinclair’s head cave in under the weight of her multiple blows left no doubt.And perhaps more importantly, it felt amazing. The sight of that vile bitch’sblood pouring out of her skull gave her a thrill she’d never experienced beforein her life. The feeling of being up close and personal as someone else’s lifejust...ended—of being the reason for it—was a rush she hadn’t known waspossible. And she wanted it again.
That was why, eventhough she’d taken a cab here, she snuck into the Ford house through thebackyard doggy door (the family dog had died six months ago, but the doorhadn't gone anywhere) and set up the canister on the counter in Sienna Ford’sbathroom, she felt like something was missing. And it was why, when she sawPaul Ford’s golf club in the corner of his closet, she knew that when it camedown to it, she’d be using that as her weapon of choice.
She snapped out ofher vengeful trance when Sienna returned to the bathroom. The tub was full, andthe song had changed. “The Sweetest Taboo” was now playing. Junior smiled toherself. She suspected that her interpretation of what taboo was sweetest mightdiffer from Sade’s.
Now all she had todo was decide: did she want to kill Sienna now, as she prepared to get into thetub, mistakenly thinking that she was about to have a relaxing afternoon? Orshould she wait until Sienna was getting out, wet and vulnerable.
Either way, thewoman would pay. And Junior would save another child’s future.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
“We’re a minuteout,” Ryan said.
“This has got tobe the one,” Jessie told him. “You know that, right?”
She realized thatshe was telling a seasoned detective something that was obvious to him, but heranxiety was getting the better of her.
“I know,” he saidas he yanked the steering wheel hard right, turning onto Sienna Ford’s street.He turned off the siren so as not to announce their impending arrival.
Of course, he knewthey were at the right place, just as she did. It hadn’t taken long for them todetermine that Ford had to be the next intended victim. While Jessie wasrepeatedly calling Danielle Robertson’s cell phone and getting no reply andRyan was informing Captain Parker that Chief Decker should definitely postponehis news conference, Jamil and Beth had called the three women that they allthought were the most likely next victims.
Jamil had reachedGrace Barber, who lived in Venice. She was home with her family, which includedher husband and two children. Even though it seemed unlikely that Daniellewould release the poisoned canister if the kids were at home, Jamil told Gracethe basic situation and instructed her to immediately take the whole familyinto their backyard, outside the confines of an enclosed room, and wait thereuntil a squad car arrived.
