Page 90 of Survive the Night

“The irony is that as soon as I found some sense of purpose again, I got a call from the doctor telling me about the cancer,” Marge says. “My daughter’s in denial. She keeps saying a miracle can happen. But that’s bullshit. There’s no miracle coming my way. My time’s almost up. Which is why you’re here.”

She lowers the knife and picks up the pliers, letting Charlie know exactly what this is about.

Revenge.

The same kind she had fantasized about getting during those sleepless nights when both anger and those little orange pills kept her awake. It never occurred to Charlie that someone else who had known and loved Maddy would have that same thirst for revenge.

And that she’d be on the receiving end of it.

Yet Charlie also understands. Since she blamed herself for what happened to Maddy, it’s natural for Marge to do the same. And since Charlie, at the lowest point of her guilt and grief, had tried to end it all, it makes twisted sense that Marge would want to end her as well.

“You’ve brought me here to kill me, haven’t you?”

Charlie’s amazed at how calm she sounds, considering all the fear churning inside her. It’s how she felt as Josh drove them away from the diner. A combination of terror and inevitability.

Acceptance.

That’s what Charlie thinks has come over her. A grim understanding that this is the way things are going to end.

“No, sweetie,” Marge says. “I’m here for information.”

Her answer doesn’t make Charlie feel any better. Nor does the way Marge flexes the pliers in front of her, opening and closing them like a hungry bird’s beak.

“I don’t know anything,” Charlie says.

“Yes, you do,” Marge says. “You were there. You saw the man who killed my granddaughter. Now you’re going to tell me who he is.”

“I don’tknow.”

“You know something. Yousawsomething. Even if you don’t think you did. Maddy told me all about that, you know. Your delusions. How you sometimes see things that aren’t there. But the man who killed Maddy, he was there. He wasreal. And your eyes saw him, even if your brain saw something else.” Marge taps Charlie’s forehead. “That information’s in there somewhere. You’re going to give it to me. Even if I have to pry it out myself.”

“Maddy wouldn’t want you to do this.”

Marge flashes her another dark look. “Maybe not. But she’s no longer with us, thanks to you. Now, I’m going to ask you a few questions about what you saw that night. And if there’s something you don’t think you remember, well, I’ll make you remember.”

Charlie stares at the pliers, still opening and closing. They make a little clicking sound each time they connect.

Click.

Pause.

Click.

“We’ll start with an easy one,” Marge says. “Just to get thatmemory going. Were you with my granddaughter the night she was killed?”

“Yes,” Charlie says. “I was.”

“Where?”

“A bar. I didn’t want to go, but Maddy insisted.”

“Why did she insist?” Marge says. “I know there’s a reason.”

“Because she didn’t like to walk alone.”

“Yet that’s what she ended up doing, isn’t it?” Marge says with a curious head tilt, as if she doesn’t already have the answer.

“She did,” Charlie says, knowing not to lie. If anything’s going to get her out of this, it’ll be the truth.

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