39. Thatcher
39
THATCHER
S agan returns with Trevor in the back of the Bright Starr van three and half hours later.
I stand outside the open stall of the garage in the back of the funeral home, waiting for him impatiently as he backs in. Overhead, the clouds have gathered and a cold breeze has picked up. I need to check the weather, snow could be coming our way soon. Given that it's the first week of March now, I'm not surprised we might get a last minute snowfall, but are we prepared? Is there salt for the parking lot? Shovels? It's something I'll have to look into. While Beatrix ran this place all by herself and did an excellent job of keeping this place afloat, things slipped through the cracks. Supplies for the business were low, most of the tools in the decrepit shed either didn't work or were too dull or rusty to be of any help, and the maintenance had gone to shit. I get it, money is clearly tight. She literally did her best to keep Bright Starr from going into the red each month. Unfortunately, that didn't leave enough money to hire another hand to help her do some of the extra work around here.
She has us now though, and we'll make sure everything is taken care of.
As Sagan climbs out of the driver's seat, I push the gurney over and open the back of the vehicle.
“About damn time. What took you so long?” I demand.
“I had to deal with the police on the scene who were upset it wasn't Beatrix there to pick up the body. It ended up being a fucking clusterfuck.” Sagan grimaces. He sighs as he runs his fingers through his dark bangs. The motion shoves them out of his face only for them to fall right back a second later. “There were so many fucking questions, and they wanted to tell me their life stories. It was torture.”
My annoyance seeps away as I realize what Sagan must have gone through. In its place, amusement trickles in. Trying to hide my smile, I reach in, and together we pull the body bag out and place it on the rolling table.
“This is small-town life, Sagan, and you're new to them. I bet everything you told them has spread like wildfire to the rest of the people of Chasm.” I choke down my grin as Sagan shoots me a dark glare.
“They just wouldn't shut the fuck up .”
My laughter earns me an even darker glare. If there's anyone who hates small talk and nosy people, it's Sagan. I'm sure it was like a personal hell trying to get through the interactions while remaining pleasant.
“We'll have to actually make a public appearance downtown eventually. People will gawk, gossip will fly, and then something new will grab the attention of the people of Chasm and we'll be old news,” I assure him.
“Maybe this fake suicide will keep them off us for a little longer,” he grumbles.
“Did I tell you that his father is the pastor of the church here. He was very distraught that his son would take his life in this manner. Apparently, it's a grave sin to commit suicide.”
Sagan looks over at me and we exchange a smile.
“What a shame he went out that way,” my brother sneers.
I nod in agreement. “A shame, indeed.”
As Sagan pushes the body toward the interior door of the funeral home, I walk over to pull the metal chord that will close the garage door shut. Just as I reach for it, movement just beyond Bright Starr catches my eye. My hand pauses mid-air as I watch Knox rushing out from the rundown shed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him move so fast. It’s like he’s on fire or something. Knox crests over the hill, away from the funeral home and just out of sight.
“What's Knox doing with a shovel? And why is he running?” I ask curiously.
The sound of the gunnery rolling over the cement floor comes to an abrupt halt. I look over my shoulder at my brother who turns to look back at me. Something sharp then both hot and cold shoots through our connection. It's there and gone before I know exactly what my brother is feeling.
“Have you checked on Beatrix recently?” he asks, his voice unnaturally terse.
I eye his expression warily, unsure of the sudden stillness I’m feeling from him. With a slow shake of my head I answer, “The pastor wanted to speak with her, but I couldn't find her, and then I got busy?—”
Before I can finish my sentence, Sagan pushes the table away from him and runs toward me.
“Sagan, what?—“
He doesn’t stop when he reaches me. Instead, my brother bolts outside and sprints away—up the hill in the direction that Knox had taken. Unease causes my chest to constrict. I almost take off after him, but I can't leave our newest guest out like this. I glare at the black body bag that hides the decomposing remnants of Beatrix's tormentor. With a huff, I hurry over to the table and push him into Bright Starr and to the preparation room.
An empty preparation room. I frown. This is usually where Beatrix is during the day, but she hasn’t been in here for hours.
“Beatrix?” I call out as I step out into the hallway.
There’s no response.
My unease shifts to outright concern. On light feet, I head to the office. When I poke my head in, I find it empty. Quickly, I close the door and make my way to the service room. If Beatrix isn’t in the preparation room and she wasn’t in the back or in the office, she must be here… right?
I stop within the threshold of the room where funeral services are held. It’s utterly silent. Silent… and empty. I don’t bother calling out for Beatrix. It’s clear she’s not here. My heart skips a beat. Without wasting any more time, I hurry to the front of the business, lock up, and take off in the direction Sagan and Knox had disappeared in. As I get to the top of the hill, I see the two of them. Both are in the middle of the old, overgrown cemetery. Knox is shoveling frantically while Sagan is on his knees using his hands to move dirt from a gravesite.
That can’t be good. Just seeing Knox doing any sort of manual labor would be alarming in and of itself. But to see him doing it with such panic in his movements only makes it more so. I take off, sprinting toward the two of them, an unusual urgency urging me on. What does this have to do with Beatrix?
“What the hell is going on?” I demand breathlessly as I approach.
“Shut up and dig!” Sagan snaps.
“What are we looking?—”
“I buried Starr Girl!” Knox cries out without looking up at me. “And then I kind of forgot about her while I re-cleaned the inside of the people cooking room.”
My heart skips a beat. Before it has time to reset, I'm on my hands and knee beside Sagan, shoving my hand into the dirt.
“What the fuck where you thinking, Knox?” I snarl.
“It was her punishment!”
Fury battles the panic constricting my chest. “How long has she been down here?”
“Ah, four, maybe four and a half hours?” Knox stammers as he shovels. “I didn’t account for the time it would take to bury her and fill in all the dirt.”
Fear claws up my throat. How long can someone survive being buried? Could she have suffocated already? No, I refuse to believe that. Beatrix Starr is not fucking dead. I just sunk my claws into her. I'm not through basking in her reverence or ready to lose such a lovely little treat. Rage erupts, and for a second, I want to throttle Knox.
“Goddamn it, Knox!” I shout, unable to help the well of fury bubbling up.
Knox groans before he huffs out, “I didn't intend to forget about her. I got distracted and?—”
His shovel hits something. The thud causes us all to pause for half a second. When we launch into action once more, doubling our efforts. It takes another few minutes for the entire coffin to come into view, but when it does, I'm not relieved. For one thing, the coffin looks ancient. It looks nothing like the modern ones inside the funeral home. The wooden shell is moldy, rotten through in some places, and maggots wiggle through the creases. But if the appearance and stench radiating from the box is bad, the silence that greets us is even worse.
A strange ringing starts in my ears, making my brain itch and eyesight blurry. My heart is acting strange. Is this what panic feels like? I don’t think I've actually experienced it before myself, but I’m starting to think the rioting inside of me might be the start of it.
Knox crouches down and yanks the lid off the top. On the other side of it are claw marks, bloody and deep. A fingernail is lodged in the wood. My stomach clenches tight as my gaze jumps from it to the woman inside. There, laying utterly still inside the coffin, is my stepsister. She’s naked, covered in sweat, and has blood smeared all over her hands, torso, and face.
“Beatrix!” I call out as all three of us descend upon her at once.
I shove Knox away as he reaches down for her, only for Sagan to do the same to me. I tumble to the side as Sagan scoops her up and pulls her out of the coffin. I scramble to my feet with a snarl.
“Is she alive?!” Knox cries out. “Shit, shit, shit!”
Sagan lowers her into the cold grass, and as I kneel down beside her, he checks her pulse along her neck.
“There's a heartbeat,” he announces grimly. “It’s faint but there.”
Knox looks between us. “Do either of you know CPR?”
Sagan is already at it, pushing down on her chest for several beats before pressing his mouth against hers to inflate her lungs. I hold my breath and watch. Killing is one thing. Killing is easy, but saving someone? I know nothing about that. Nothing about life-saving procedures or the right type of care. I didn't even know Sagan knew CPR. Maybe he's making it up? Could he be doing it wrong? Anxiously, I wait for something to happen. For anything to happen. Time ticks by. The longer Sagan works, the more I’m sure she's not going to make it. My chest constricts painfully, and for a second, I find myself struggling to breathe.
I may be a killer, but I have rules and boundaries. Promises and decisions are not made lightly, due in part to the fact that there is no breaking them without severe consequences. Our lives, and freedom, depend upon being able to trust one another, to stick to plans, to the rules set in place. We took a vote, and it was decided Beatrix Starr would be one of us if she asked us for help. And when she did finally reach out, she instantly became part of the family. Knox lost that vote, but he had to abide by the decision. He promised to behave.
But I should've seen this coming. Knox is more spontaneous than either Sagan or me. He doesn't always think his actions through. It’s his youth. While he just hit twenty-five, my brother and I are closing in on forty. We've done the spontaneous lifestyle and became less so as we got better at what we did. Knox didn’t have to learn to think things through, he’s had us to guide him. Look what this has led to. If we haven’t killed our stepsister, we certainly broke whatever trust we’ve gained with her. My hands curl slowly into tight fists as denial and anger war with one another.
Knox steps up, as if to take over for Sagan, but one look from me and he freezes.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he says quickly.
The rage that boils the blood in my veins makes it hard to think. A heavy tremor rushes through me as I glare at him.
“Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Knox?” I hiss. “You’ve been dragging your feet from the start. You never wanted her around! This was your way of removing her from the equation, wasn’t it?”
Knox shakes his head frantically, causing his blond waves to swing with him.
“No! Thatcher, you have to believe me,” he whines, his face scrunching up in despair. “I know the rules. I promised I’d be good and?—”
“And yet here we fucking are! Waiting to see if she’ll live!” I roar.
Knox’s bright blue eyes widen as his face pales. “Thatcher, I want her to live too. I was wrong to?—”
Beatrix gasps, regaining consciousness abruptly. Relief floods me, and for a second, the world spins a little too swiftly. I must’ve barely been breathing, even while I wrung Knox out. As Sagan sits up, Beatrix jerks upright. Her eyes are wild and unseeing. Her arms shoot out as if to grab for something, and then she lets out an ear-splitting scream. The three of us flinch in surprise as the sound shoots off in every direction.
I compose myself faster than the others.
“Beatrix! Beatrix !” I shove Sagan out of the way and take his place beside her. I grab her shoulders and shake her gently. “You're ok! We got you.”
Rather than listen to me, Beatrix screams again. The sound echoes around us, bouncing off the woods and chasing across the hill. Fat, watery tears spill down her cheeks as her cry trails off and she sucks in a renewed breath to do it again.
“We need to get her inside,” Sagan states, getting to his feet.
I nod in agreement. This is going to draw too much attention. How would we possibly explain this to anyone if they pulled up right now? Determined to make this right, I allow my hands to slide down in order to pick her up. Immediately, Beatrix starts to fight me. Her hands come up and her fingers curve as she claws at my face as another screech of fear and rage slips past her pretty lips. I ignore her attack, jerking my head just out of reach as I scoop her up and get to my feet.
“Beatrix, it's ok now, you're out of there,” I murmur, lowering my voice as I attempt to get her to focus on me and my words rather than the fear that consumed her.
It doesn't work. Beatrix fights me, using her bloody hands to rake across my face, and she thrashes around madly. Her eyes, still unfocused, dart around as if to look for an escape as her body flails around in my grip.
“Here.” Knox pulls off his shirt and tries to cover her with it. The crop top hardly covers her chest, let alone the rest of her. I glare at him. “What? That's all I got. I left my jacket inside.”
Rather than acknowledge him, I turn and take off up the hill toward the house.
Over my shoulder, I call out, “Sagan?—”
“Already on it.” He rushes ahead of me, throwing open the front door and disappearing inside.
When I make it through the threshold, I can hear the water running through the pipes. The thundering of my footsteps up the stairs is echoed by Knox as he follows close behind.
“Starr Girl, I’m sorry! Calm down and I’ll explain!” he calls as she continues to struggle in my arms and scream like a banshee. “Jesus Christ, just chill out! It’s not that serious. Everything is ok. If you would just listen to?—”’
Knox’s words are cut off as he runs into my back after I come to an abrupt halt just outside Beatrix’s room.
“Shit, sorry, Thatch.”
“Get back down to Bright Starr, Knox,” I order through clenched teeth. “Someone needs to man the front in case anyone calls or walks in. If they do, just take their number, and I’ll deal with it when I get back down there. We'll talk later.”
Rather than wait for a reply, I move into her room and slam the door shut behind me using my foot—not bothering to acknowledge Knox's crestfallen expression. Sagan steps out of the bathroom. He looks down at our sister who continues to scream and flail about.
“I'll get the first aid kid,” he offers through clenched teeth.
I stare him incredulously. “Do you even know where one is?”
“I do!” Knox calls from the other side of the door.
Sagan and I exchange looks as Beatrix unexpectedly goes limp in my arms. I glance down to find her staring up at her bedroom ceiling, her eyes slightly glazed over and unseeing.
“Beatrix?” I call to her gently.
Her eyes slide to my face but don’t linger there as they move past me to look at something behind me. Or nothing. I’m not sure how much shock she’s in.
“I’ll go fetch it,” Sagan assures me before he leaves us be.
“Beatrix,” I try again.
Nothing. There’s no flicker of recognition behind those eyes. There’s not a flinch or a sigh, not a grimace or anything. Even her tears have stopped. If it wasn’t for the rise and fall of her chest and the frantic, furious pounding of her heart, it would be like she died. The thought is unnerving. Dread is a boulder falling from some unnamed height and crashing to the bottom of my gut, leaving me breathless and shaken.
My stepsister has gone through so much. Pain and fear, constant staples in her life, are all she’s ever really known. She should be used to it. To this. But maybe experience doesn’t equal strength when it comes to things like this. Maybe it just leads people up a mountain, toward a point where, if they tip over, they just… break. Shattering from the inside out, no longer able to take everything that life throws at them.
Is that Beatrix? Have we pushed her too far this time? Did we break her beyond repair?
I shake my stepsister in my arms, just a bit, searching for something of her. Proof that she’s not completely lost to us.
“Beatrix?” I call out softly. “Beatrix, can you hear me?”
An eerie silence is the only response.