Sixteen Andrea Donnelly
Sixteen
Andrea Donnelly
I step up to the window and watch as the older detective walks toward his SUV, where the other one, the woman, waits.
My heart is thundering. I don’t know why I didn’t see this coming, but somehow I didn’t.
From the second I saw the news that the bastard was officially missing, I should have realized this would happen.
Of course the investigation would include all the victims. Each one would be questioned, maybe even considered a suspect.
The remembered sound of shattering glass has me squeezing my eyes shut. I was so certain no one saw me that morning. It was very early. The neighborhood was dead silent. And still, except for my movements.
I wore all black, even a ski mask, and of course gloves. The baseball bat I used did the trick quickly and fairly easily. Slicing the tires was a little harder than I expected. But I managed.
Then I saw him. My heart almost stopped. Does the same thing now. I force myself to breathe. He stood in the doorway that I hadn’t even heard open. He watched me. Just stood there watching me. He couldn’t possibly know who I was, and yet somehow I felt utterly naked in front of him.
I felt as if I were that little girl again and he could see all of me.
I wanted to kill him right then, right there.
But I had to be smart . . . for my kids.
So I finished what I had come to do. My part.
No matter what happens, I will never regret what I did. I would do it again in a heartbeat.