Guilty

Chapter 26

Before.

DARIUS BLECKER DESERVES TO DIE.

And that's all you need to kill somebody else--a few minutes of blur.

Violet's Ford was parked in my driveway as I swung an old backpack over my shoulder that contained only three things: a change of clothes, my phone set on airplane mode and Darius' stolen gun.

The house was asleep aside from Tyler's low, smooth Beatles playlist droned the upstairs of the house. The sun's yellow fire was low in the sky outside my bedroom window. It was around this time that our parents would be stuck in traffic out of Baltimore. Samara was to be buried around sunset. I pushed forward and jogged downstairs, scurrying out the front door.

Through her windshield I could see the shadow of Violet chewing gum with one arm draped lazily over the steering wheel. Since yesterday she'd worn a black blouse that flowed relaxed over her elbows, similar to mine so that we looked like we belonged in a funeral. When her eyes met mine from inside her car, she laid on her horn.

"What are you doing?" I fumed, opening the passenger side door, the gun wriggling with the movements of my backpack. "People talk in this neighborhood, you know." The steady bass of country music radio flowed through my ears when I climbed into the seat next to her.

She chuckled. "So what? Honking horns suggests murder in this town?" She winked and reached over me, pulling my door shut. "Buckle up, sweetie."

Rolling down my street, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, six sets of six.

"Can I ask you a question?" I set my backpack at my feet carefully while she nodded, feeling the weight of the gun clunk in contact with the ground and cringing. "Is six your lucky number or something?" I shuddered, eyeing the road past the fading sunlight as we cruised down Route 47, nearing the church where the funeral will start in about a half hour. I imagined Darius prying through Samara's open casket to find the flash drive and save himself.

He was never going to touch her again.

"He killed little Dana and paid for it with trial for a year that ended in his false innocence. Is that the going rate for a thirteen-year-old girl's life? And what about Samara? Is she free to murder?"

I compressed my lips and twirl my hair as we braked at a red light.

Is Tyler's life worth the same as Darius Blecker's?

"Um, yeah. You're right. But you didn't answer the question. Did you know you count to six as often as you do?"

Violet's eyes glowed against the red light like an untamed snake. "Yes, you can say I'm aware."

On the tip of my toe, the barrel of the gun teased me from inside my backpack. I waited as we sped back up, the wind whistling loudly through the windows. The sky lightened from a red fire to pink.

HE DESERVES IT.

"I know you and all my friends think I'm crazy now. I'm tired of hiding, pretending I don't know pain, ignoring the fact that my sister ever existed. Samara's death made me realize that. When I received the news that my sister had died I was doing my homework, using the clock to practice for some presentation I was going to be doing at school the next day. The presentation had to be within five to seven minutes, and I was timing myself for a perfect six. My grandmother came downstairs from her bedroom and told me we had to talk. I didn't think she needed anything serious, kept refusing to listen because I was determined to get my timing right for this presentation. Kept counting minutes by six, ignoring her.