Page 48 of Treasured By Them
A click that sounds suspiciously like a gun echoes in the silence.
“Don’t move a fucking muscle,” Zora says. “I asked, did you kill her?”
Malcolm coughs, struggling to stand up. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t. Move.” She steps out of the shadows. Twilight glints against the barrel of a gun.
I remain where I am, crouched against the log and shivering. The wood is slimy against my hands, arms, and legs, but I’m afraid to let go. I don’t want a single ripple or splash to give me away.
“Zora.” Malcolm remains on his knees, but he raises his arms in supplication.
A loud bang resounds, followed by Malcolm yelping in fright.
“You could’ve fucking shot me, Zora.” Malcolm doesn’t move, but I can tell he wants to. “What is going on?”
“Did. You. Kill. Danica?”
“No, of course not, what a ridiculous thing to say. We tried to take out the boat, but it capsized. I’m trying to find her?—”
“Bullshit.”
He coughs again, a pitiful sound. I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, or if he really did inhale that much water. “Why are you doing this, Zora? Put the gun away and we can talk.”
“Like you talked to Britney?”
A long pause. I replay the words in my head. Like you talked to Britney? Like you talked to Britney? How does Zora know? She wasn’t there that night—I’ve never seen her before in my life.
Unless she was there, and it’s just another thing I forgot.
My stupid brain. I don’t know what’s real or not anymore. But the way I forgot makes sense. I was trying to protect myself—Malcolm would’ve killed me, I have no doubt. Maybe not that night. But at any hint of my memory coming back, he would’ve arranged for an accident, just like tonight.
I thought he didn’t plan this, but now a part of me wonders if he didn’t have a million plans, for a million different scenarios. He must have been living in fear the past fifteen years, wondering when or how the memories could be triggered.
I wouldn’t doubt that he’s the one who ripped away the cover photo on my scrapbook. He was likely in the photo and he didn’t want to remind me that he was at camp.
Malcolm hasn’t moved. In a soft, even tone, he says, “What are you talking about? Britney who?”
“Stop playing dumb, Malcolm.” Zora laughs bitterly. “Britney was my cousin. The sweetest girl. And you killed her.”
“What? No, no way. That didn’t happen.”
“She told me she would meet you that night. She wanted to break up, and as her older cousin, I told her it was the right call. You were too old for her. And you were acting strange, possessive.”
“I was never with Britney—this doesn’t make sense.”
“I swear to god I’ll shoot you if you lie to me one more time.” She hisses out the words, her anger hot like steam.
“Look.” He remains kneeling in the mud. “I was gone that night. The police asked me about Britney. They checked my alibi?—”
“You mean your friend on the police force? The one who didn’t think you’d do such a thing, and lied about checking your alibi so your teaching program wouldn’t kick you out?”
I shiver. The lake is so freaking cold, but there’s no way I’m getting out. Not until I lay eyes on Edmund and Troy. I know they’re on their way. They have to be.
“I didn’t want it to be you, Malcolm.” Zora angrily wipes tears from her face with her free hand, keeping the gun trained on Malcolm with her other. “I didn’t want it to be you, but I knew it had to be. It wasn’t Brendan. He loved her, but not like they were saying.”
Those rumors…I remember how disgusting they were.
She goes on, “Brendan kept in touch with me, even after he left the country. I was the only family member who remained in contact with him. After a while, we talked about that night, and about your relationship with Britney. We figured out, the two of us, that you did something to her—we just didn’t know what.”
