One of them shouted.
Police sirens screamed beyond the woods.
Margaret looked at me.
“Through the kitchen!”
We ran.
Flames crawled across the ceiling.
A beam crashed behind us.
Russell stumbled.
“Leave me.”
“No.”
“Emily—”
“I buried you once. I’m not doing it again.”
He looked at me.
Despite the smoke, despite the blood, he smiled.
“That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Keep moving.”
We reached the kitchen.
The back door opened.
Rebecca stood there.
Alone.
Gun raised.
Everyone froze.
She looked at Russell.
“You ruined my mother’s life.”
Russell said quietly, “I did.”
No excuses.
No denial.
Rebecca’s hand trembled.
“You knew she had a daughter.”
“Not until tonight.”
“Convenient.”
“I deserve your hatred.”
She laughed through tears.
