Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
EIGHT YEARS AGO
O live’s entire world went still until all she could hear was the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears.
Cautiously, she pushed open the door to her parents’ bedroom.
Her breath caught.
Her dad lay on the carpeted floor directly in front of her, one arm outstretched as if his last movement had been to reach for help. Blood stained his back and hands.
Olive fell onto her knees beside him. “Dad!”
Her finger went to his neck. Wasn’t that what people did? Touch someone’s neck to see if they were still alive?
But what was she feeling for? A pulse, she remembered.
Where exactly would it be? Because she didn’t feel anything. Was she feeling in the wrong place?
That had to be it. She wasn’t touching the right spot.
But where was the right spot?
What if he was still alive and Olive could help him? What if she was wasting time right now?
Tears pressed her eyes.
But she knew the truth, even though she tried to deny it.
Based on the amount of blood around him, her dad was dead. That was why Olive couldn’t find his pulse.
Another thought hit her, and she stiffened. “Mom . . .”
She reached for the light switch and flipped it.
Nothing happened.
She remembered those trashcans that had been moved. The electrical panel was near them, wasn’t it? Had someone moved the trashcans in order to cut the power to their house?
Olive rushed to the bed.
Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness just enough that she could see her mom. She wasn’t moving.
Maybe she was just sleeping hard. Olive knew the excuse was flimsy, but she needed to believe it.
She fumbled with her phone, nearly dropping it. She caught it and shone the flashlight on her mom’s face.
She gasped when she saw her mother’s lifeless eyes staring at her. When she saw the blooms of blood on the bed sheets.
Tears began to pour down Olive’s cheeks.
Her parents had been shot. They were dead.
Dead.
A sob escaped before she could stop it.
Another thought hit her with the force of a swinging baseball bat.
Her sisters. Where were they? Were they okay?
Olive scrambled to her feet and rushed up the stairs.
With every step, she prayed furiously. Jessie and Jules had to be okay.
Maybe the killer had used a silencer on his gun.
Her sisters probably hadn’t heard a thing and had slept through it.
After all, why would anyone want to hurt those sweet little girls? The twins were only eleven, a strange mix of little girl and soon-to-be teenager. Jessie and Jules were all pink nail polish, Sour Patch Kids, and cheesy tween movies.
As Olive reached the top step, she froze.
Thoughts hit her like bullets.
What if the killer was still inside the house? What if he was waiting for Olive to return so he could finish her off also?
And why hadn’t she thought about that earlier?
Panic raced through her.
She pulled herself together. It didn’t matter. Even if she was in danger, she had to check on her sisters. They might need her!
She forced her feet to move, and she darted to her sisters’ room.
She prayed she’d see them sleeping soundly in their twin beds.
Even if her mom and dad were dead, Olive could take care of the girls. She wouldn’t let them go into foster care. She’d do whatever it took to keep them all together.
But as soon as she opened the door and a sickly but familiar odor hit her, she knew the truth.
It was the same scent she’d smelled in her parents’ room.
Blood.
“No . . . !” The word escaped as a cry.
Olive sank to her knees as sobs wracked her body.
How would she ever go on without her family?
She couldn’t.
Then she sucked in a breath and froze.
She couldn’t cry like this. Not now.
Instead, something inside her shifted. Something she couldn’t explain.
A calm certainty washed over her.
No longer did she fear a killer being in the house.
Now she hoped he was still here. Hoped he would show his face.
Because she would find the person who did this to her family, even if it was the last thing she ever did. And she would make sure this killer paid.