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Chapter Three
V
I opened the door to the small, single story house, moving slowly and quietly, as though I were a teenager sneaking home past her curfew.
I never knew what her mood would be—she was either sullen and ignoring me, or else furious and hating me with every inch of her body. Not that I blamed her. I felt the same way about myself.
The first two weeks of our relocation into the Witness Protection Program had been the worst. The U.S. Marshals had driven us to the clearinghouse in a van with blacked out windows, while we huddled down, on opposites sides of the vehicle, staying away from each other, or at least, her staying away from me. We had two weeks of orientation where we were locked in a room, kept away from any other families who might also be staying at the house, so we didn’t run the risk of bumping into each other and exposing the other people at a later date. We were offered psychological counseling, not just because of what we’d been through, but also because of the trauma of upending our lives. We had to practice writing our new names, though they were kept as close to our original names as possible.
My sister, Nicole, was now legally known as Nicolette, but it meant I still got to call her Nickie.
She didn’t call me anything at all, if she could help it.
I entered the house hoping to go straight to my room. I knew Nickie didn’t want to see me, but I didn’t want to see her, either. Every time I looked at her, I could see the blood splatters across one side of her face, how she’d turned, wide-eyed with horror, as our mother had slowly toppled to the ground.
She’d run to Mom and sobbed over her body with great, keening wails. Then she’d jumped to her feet and rushed at me, screaming.
I hadn’t done anything to try to protect myself. I’d just crumpled to my knees and sat on my heels, staring at the body of the woman who’d been my mother, while my sister beat me over my head with her fists.
The bourbon had left my throat dry, so instead of heading straight to bed, I went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. While I was there, I figured I might as well chase it with another shot of something. The alcohol helped me to sleep, and if I was lucky, it kept the dreams away as well.
I turned on the faucet and, foregoing the glass, stuck my mouth beneath the flow of water instead, gulping it down. Then I found the bottle I stashed beneath the sink and unscrewed the top. I placed the rim to my lips and took a couple of long, deep swallows before pulling it away and screwing the cap back on. I hid it back beneath the sink, behind the bottles of bleach and floor cleaner, which I knew Nickie would never use in a million years.
As I turned, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye.
Reacting rather than thinking, I yanked the knife back out from the sheath between my breasts and brandished it.
My sister stepped into view, her arms folded across her chest, her dark eyes—eyes so like my own—alighting on the knife with a cool gaze.
“Are you going to kill me, too?” she snapped, her head tilted slightly to one side, her nostrils flared in anger.
I breathed out, slowly, and placed the knife back in the sheath. “Don’t be ridiculous, Nickie. You scared the shit out of me. I was bound to react, you know, considering.”
“Considering you’re a murderous bitch, you mean.”
“Nickie …” I warned.
“What? Seriously. What are you going to do about me calling you a bitch? Nothing, that’s what.”
“I’d never hurt you.”
“Why? Because we’ve got the U.S. Marshals breathing down our necks, and you know that’ll get you sent straight to jail, where you’ll be found and killed yourself.”
“No, I wouldn’t hurt you because I love you.”
She pursed her lips. “Didn’t stop you before.”
I stared down at the floor, willing the boiling anger inside me to reduce to a simmer. I knew she was pushing me on purpose, but I couldn’t rise to it. We needed each other, even if she did hate me. I couldn’t leave her in this whole new world by herself. She was only seventeen. But I also couldn’t allow her to go back to our old lives. Doing so, I was sure, would mean her death. Even if it didn’t happen immediately, someone would catch up to her and they’d find a reason to kill her.
“I’m tired,” I said eventually. “I’m going to bed, and I suggest you do the same. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
She shrugged. “Big deal. If our cover gets blown, we’ll only end up in another town with new identifications again. I’ll get them to change my grades then.”
I bit the inside of my lip to stop myself from replying.
Something caused my attention to be drawn to the kitchen window. Only darkness lay beyond, but I narrowed my eyes and stepped closer. Maybe it was just Nickie talking about our cover being blown, but I was filled with the sudden certainty that someone had been watching us through the window. A shiver shuddered down my spine, and I quickly went to the window and pulled the blinds shut, blocking off the outside world from view. It wasn’t like me to get spooked, even after everything I’d been through.
Nickie was watching me. “What’s wrong?”
