The Amendment (Arrangement #2)

Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

AINSLEY

O ne problem at a time.

We could only solve one problem at a time.

Peter had taken Dylan to meet Julie, Riley was out for the day with a few of his friends, and Jennessa and her mother had come to pick up Maisy first thing that morning.

I tried not to take it personally that we’d only been home from our family bonding trip for twelve hours—most of those sleeping hours—when each of my children chose to bolt.

I needed to talk to Maisy further. I felt awful letting her leave, but in truth, I was grateful for the quiet to let myself process and decide how we were going to move forward.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I knew how we were going to proceed.

Peter and I were going to kill him.

Period.

The sooner he took his last breath, the better .

But would we make him confess first? Would we ask for the names of all of his victims? Would it be random? Would he know why he was going to die?

Most importantly, how were we going to do it without getting caught?

I was having flashbacks of the experience with Stefan—blood and evidence, panic and fear, cops and knocks on doors, long, sleepless nights…

I didn’t want to relive that, but this time would be different.

Then, I’d needed to keep Peter in the dark about why Stefan had to die. I needed him to see that we could rely on each other. I wanted him to finally come clean to me about everything—all his secrets—in order to save us.

When he hadn’t, I’d finally had to confront him.

This time, everything was on the table. I knew Peter could get rid of the body, just like he had before.

I knew he could clean it up.

I knew we had a place to hide it until that time.

What I didn’t know was how both of us would hide our disappearance for any stretch of time, all while constructing some sort of alibi in case the police came around.

I wondered about the first time Peter killed someone.

Had he had these same fears?

I wanted him to trust that I was on board completely. I wanted him to trust me. That meant hiding my fears, my questions, and trusting that he could lead us through it.

Just last night, he’d suggested that maybe I should let him handle everything.

That couldn’t happen .

I was too invested. I needed to watch him die. I needed to see his pain after what he’d done to Maisy and her friends.

I shuddered to think it could be so much worse.

No, I had to prove it to Peter—and to myself—that I could handle it. All of it. This felt like my initiation. If I could pass the test, he’d finally let me all the way in.

Luckily, I’d always been a fan of tests and challenges. I could do this.

A knock on the door drew me out of my thoughts, and I glanced at the clock. It was just after eleven.

Peter should’ve still been dropping Dylan off. I didn’t expect him to be back home for the next hour.

I drained the last of the tea from my mug and stood from the table, making my way into the living room. I moved the curtain aside, peeking out the glass, and staring at the familiar face.

“Hello?” I asked as I opened the door. The man Peter had been talking to in the driveway just a few nights earlier stood in front of me. He was tall and blond, with a charming smile despite a single, silver tooth, and piercing eyes that shot straight through you. He was more handsome than Peter in the traditional sense—though I’d never admit that to him—but something felt cool about this stranger. As if something was missing inside of him.

A corner of his mouth upturned, and I spotted the rest of his nearly perfect white teeth. He shoved a hand inside his pocket, looking past me and into the house. “You must be the missus.”

I gripped the door. “I’m…Ainsley. You’re Peter’s friend, aren’t you? From work? ”

“That’s me. Only, we go way back. I’m Jim.”

I held out a hand, ignoring the shiver of panic that shot through me. “Nice to meet you. Officially.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” He sandwiched my hand between both of his, his skin lingering on mine for too long. Something lit up in his eyes, and I pulled back with a wave of apprehension gnawing at my insides. I held on to the door tighter. “Well, Peter’s not home right now. He should be back soon.”

He chuckled, his eyes lifeless and cold. “It’ll be a while, I’d say. He’s on his way to my place. About an hour outta town.”

Was that true? Peter hadn’t mentioned going anywhere but to Julie’s house.

“Oh,” I squeaked out. “Well, I was right in the middle of something. Maybe you could come back when he’s home…” I started to shut the door, but he shoved his boot inside, stopping me abruptly.

“Actually, I’m here to see you. ”

“Me?” I rested a hand on my chest.

“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced behind him. “Mind if I come inside?”

My pulse quickened, beating erratically at the deep timbre of his voice. “Um…”

His boot was still forcing the door open with no sign of relenting. If I fought him, he’d force his way inside anyway. I stepped back, trying to appear gracious.

“Okay, sure. Excuse the mess. We’re just getting back from a trip.”

“Looks like you got a little bit of a tan,” he said, his eyes lingering on my shoulder, then trailing down the neckline of my tank top and over my legs.

I covered my shoulder instinctually, looking away as I moved to shut the door, turning my back to him. “Yeah, maybe.” I felt him step forward, so close to me I could feel his body heat.

I spun around, inching backward until I could move no farther. I felt like an ant he was waiting to squash. “S-so, what can I do for you?” I asked, sliding out from between him and the door, not daring to turn my back to him again.

“Well, I have a few ideas.”

Cold fear pounded in my ears.

“Peter really should be here any time…” I warned, praying it was true.

“We’ve got time.”

“Time for what?” I played innocent, continuing to make my way toward the kitchen.

“Peter and I have an agreement.”

“W-what kind of agreement?” My body trembled with fear, and I tried not to let him see it, crossing my arms to hide my fists.

“Come here and let me show you.” His eyes trailed down the length of my body again, more aggressively this time.

I took two more steps backward, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, I think maybe you have the wrong idea.”

His grin never wavered, though somehow it seemed as if his eyes darkened. “I don’t have the wrong idea at all, sweetheart. I’ve seen the way you look at me. ”

Near enough to the kitchen, I turned and bolted, running away from him with as much speed as I could muster. Seeing me run made it fun for him, I could hear that in the erratic, excited way he was breathing. He hurried after me, entering the kitchen just seconds after I had.

But it was seconds too late.

He stepped onto the plastic drop cloth I’d laid out, realizing what was happening just as he did so.

He glanced down at the crunch under his feet, then back up just as I pulled the knife from the pocket of my pants. I lunged forward, swinging it with a single, swift motion. It sliced his throat, blood spurting onto the drop cloth I’d carefully coated the room in, the pieces I’d taped to the cabinets and refrigerator.

His hand went to his neck, fingers suddenly stained crimson as he attempted to stanch the bleeding.

“You… bitch …” He sputtered, his voice garbled as he fell to the floor.

I stood over him, knife in hand and at the ready, but I knew I wouldn’t need to use it again. One slice, to the exact right spot, was all it took. I’d gotten lucky, but it had worked.

He was on the ground now, writhing in pain and fear. I relished the panic on his face, panic like I knew he’d enjoyed seeing on my own. Even if it was all an act.

“That’s right,” I whispered, lowering myself down closer to him. “This… bitch. ” Then, just for good measure, I lifted the knife one last time and plunged it into his neck, next to the already open wound .

I waited and I watched, remembering what Peter had said about killing people. Finally, I saw the appeal.

It was empowering.

Magical.

For once, I was the whole damn world.