3: 3
3
I didn't ask Inkblot who she was.
I threw off the covers, pulled a coat over my shoulders, and went straight for the bedroom door.
I hit every light in the living room.
"Everybody out here." I stood at the top of the stairs, my voice cutting clean through the dark.
A minute later.
Genevieve came out of the first-floor guest room, a coat draped over her, her face like a storm.
Cara rubbed her eyes and poked her head out, all confusion.
Sarah came last, in a neat set of pajamas, her eyes sharp and wary.
All three of them stood in the living room.
"What kind of fit are you throwing in the middle of the night?" Genevieve said coldly.
"Inkblot just talked to me."
I sat down on the couch and pointed at the cat on the coffee table.
"It said that when Henry died, the killer was standing right outside the door."
Genevieve's gaze cut toward Cara like a blade.
Cara went pale and took a step back, but her eyes locked hard onto Sarah.
Only Sarah.
She didn't look at anyone.
She stared at Inkblot on the coffee table, and panic flickered deep in her eyes.
One second was all it took. I caught it.
"Which one of you was outside the door?" I asked softly.
"Char, you must have had a nightmare." Cara put on a pained, tender face. "How can you take a cat's words seriously?"
"That's right, you've been under too much strain." Sarah chimed in. "We were all home that night. Who would ever hurt Henry?"
I ignored them.
I turned and went into the kitchen and came back with three identical little porcelain bowls.
I set one down by each of their feet.
"Inkblot."
I tapped the coffee table.
"Go. Find the one."
The cat stood and stretched.
It hopped off the table and circled Genevieve's feet once.
Genevieve gave a cold snort and didn't move.
The cat went to Cara next.
Cara clutched the hem of her pajamas tight.
The cat paused.
Then, finally, it went toward Sarah.
Sarah's breath visibly stopped.
Just as it was about to reach her feet.
It froze.
Its whole body bristled, it let out a horrible shriek, spun around, and shot under the couch.
It refused to come out, no matter what.
Sarah suddenly burst into tears.
They came down in big, fat drops.
"Char, what are you trying to do?" She covered her face, her voice shaking.
"How have you turned so paranoid? Treating the people closest to you like killers, you're going to drive yourself insane!"
That line.
Word for word what she'd said in my last life, when she talked me into signing the papers.
"You're sick, Char." She came over and tried to pull me into her arms. "Aunt Sarah would never hurt you. Do you not even trust me now?"
I looked at that tear-streaked face.
I forced down the disgust in my chest and played the part of someone breaking down, someone finally convinced.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Sarah." I lowered my head and let a sob into my voice. "I'm just so scared. I don't know who to trust."
"Trust Aunt Sarah. Aunt Sarah will help you." She patted my back gently.
"Henry left something behind."
I lifted my head and looked at her.
"I don't dare keep it in my room. Will you hold on to it for me?"
Light flashed in Sarah's eyes.
"Of course. Leave it with me, don't worry."
I turned and went back to my room and brought out a metal box.
Inside were a few old watches, a few bank cards, and a keychain.
That keychain, Henry never let anyone touch it while he was alive.
I handed the box to Sarah.
She took it and her eyes swept fast over the contents.
When her gaze landed on that keychain.
Her finger stopped, just barely, at the little hole on the side of the plastic shell.
Then it closed again at once, and she smiled, all warmth.
"Get some sleep now. Aunt Sarah will keep watch for you."
I watched her walk back to her room and shut the door.
I turned and found Genevieve standing in the shadows, watching me.
She came over and dropped her voice.
"You gave her the keychain?"
"Mm."
Genevieve let out a cold laugh.
"You've got nerve."
She leaned close to my ear.
"The night Henry died, the power was out in the house."
"But I heard the doorbell ring. Three times."
I turned my head to look at her.
With the power out, the doorbell couldn't work.
Genevieve said nothing more and turned back to her room.
I walked over to the couch and crouched down.
"That night, who rang the doorbell?" I pressed.
The cat's voice came out trembling.
"Not a person."
I drew a deep breath.
I stood and went to the kitchen and got a sewing needle.
The keychain I'd just handed Sarah was a fake.
The real one had been in my pocket the whole time.
I took it out.
I lined the needle up with the little hole on the side and drove the tip in, hard.
A click.
The plastic shell split open.
There were no electronic parts inside.
Just a small chip of dried white wax.
And on the surface of that wax, clear as anything, was Henry's fingerprint.
I peeled back that layer of white wax, careful as I could, and inside was a memory card.
