You've Been Warned, Again by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2017-10-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

MARTHA’S EYES SWELL. She gags and grunts and coughs saliva, but her neck is broken. She can’t speak. She can’t sit up or do anything but desperately grab.

Stella throws herself against Carter. She muffles her horrified wailing against the collar of his flannel shirt.

But Carter can’t look away. He watches Martha with fascinated disgust. She’s reaching for him. Even from five feet away she’s grasping in vain. Her eyes accuse, and he is guilty. He feels her suffering like it’s his own.

He draws his hand along the back of Stella’s skull, petting her hair. He shushes her gently, and her tense body begins to ease. Years ago, he had a black Labrador. It was just like this, waiting for the injection to take effect.

He slips his thumbs along Stella’s jawline. He brings them together just under her chin. A miniature steeple.

He knows he is her father. He believes it in his heart. Thirty years ago he fired a shotgun into a lawyer’s face, and that face ceased to exist. All its filthy claims were revoked. But that man was just a sperm donor. Just Martha’s indiscretion.

Stella doesn’t fight against his tightening grip. His palms press into the flesh of her throat. It’s almost as if she understands why this must happen, why this was always meant to happen.

Even Martha calms. She watches with a quiet reverence.

Stella’s face swells red and her eyes swim in their sockets. She’s struggling, finally, tearing her fingernails into his wrists, grunting.

If he were a stranger, maybe she’d gouge out his eyes, kick him in the crotch. But it’s like she doesn’t want to hurt him. It’s like she believes she doesn’t have to because he’ll relent. He’ll say he was only testing her trust in him.

Her thorax crunches under his thumbs. The sensation makes him queasy, and he wants so badly to stop. This is so much worse than Martha. There is nothing more intimate than killing this way.

Stella’s body slumps into a heap on the floor. His hands ache. His body shudders so intensely, he fears he’s having a seizure. Lightheaded, he braces himself on the footboard of the bed. But soon the clouds part again.

“Did you really expect it to end any different?” he asks Martha. Her eyes keep darting. They see him, they don’t see him. The human part of her mind may not even be alive anymore.

He opens the nightstand drawer. The only contents are a handful of dried rose petals left behind by the ones who died in this house, and a letter opener.

He takes the letter opener by the hilt. The metal is cold like it’s been kept in the freezer. The blade is sharp. Etched on the hilt is the Fálcon Hotel logo, the only souvenir he’s kept from that godforsaken place.

Martha finds her last ounce of strength. She grunts in some kind of frenzied code. Her fingers touch his shirtsleeve, but she’s too weak now to grab hold of him.

It’s a miracle she survived her fall. She’s come around, praise God, and she deserves this moment of cosmic justice, another chance.

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