Page 83 of The Only One Left

“What about her?” I sit up straighter, genuinely curious about what people in town think about Mary’s death. So far, the only outside opinion I’ve been privy to is Detective Vick’s. “What are they saying?”

“That Lenora Hope killed her.”

Of course they do. I should have known not to put any stock in what my fellow townies are saying. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“There’s a reason Lenora hasn’t been seen in decades.” I stand and brush the skirt of my uniform, now wet from the grass. I then reach down and help Kenny to his feet. “She can’t walk. Or talk. Or even move anything but her left hand. She’s harmless.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m her caregiver,” I say. “I’ve spent more time with her than you.”

“I know you think I’m stupid.” Kenny says it without a hint of anger. Instead, there’s a gentle resignation in his voice that makes me reconsider our relationship, such as it was. I honestly didn’t think he cared what I thought. Now I’m not so sure.

“I don’t,” I say.

He gives me a sad smile. “It’s okay. I am stupid. About a lot of things. But I think that sometimes helps me see things that smarter people like you overthink.”

“Likeme?” I say, both flattered he considers me smart and insulted that he believes I overthink things.

“What I mean is that sometimes facts just get in the way. Sure, you’re Lenora Hope’s caregiver and you think she can’t hurt anyone.”

“Because she can’t.”

“You’re still overthinking,” Kenny says. “There’s more to everyone than meets the eye. You, me, even Lenora Hope. Look at us. Back when we first decided to...”

“Fuck,” I say, because that’s all it was.

“Right. Back then, I knew what happened to your mom and what everyone was saying about you. But I didn’t spend any time thinking about it. I just knew in my gut that you were a good person.”

A lump forms in my throat. No one has said that about me for a very long time. That it comes from Kenny, of all people, makes me understand just how much my father’s silence has hurt me. He’s the one who should be telling me this. Not the guy I started sleeping with just because I was starved for human contact.

“Thank you,” I say.

“No problem,” Kenny replies with a shrug. “But on the flip side, sometimes your gut tells you something else. So while Lenora looks like she can’t do much, maybe, like you, there’s more than meets the eye.”

There’s certainly more to Kenny than I expected. Back when we were having no-strings afternoon sex, I had no idea there was this kind of wisdom inside him. But before I can give him too much credit, he grabs my waist, pulls me close, and sloppily kisses me.

I push him away, worried that Mrs. Baker is still watching from the front door.

“It’s not going to happen, Kenny.”

“Thought I’d give it a shot,” he says, flashing that horny grin I’ve seen dozens of times since May. “I should go anyway. Take care of yourself, Kit. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Kenny gives me a playful wink before sprinting to the wall at the end of the lawn and scaling it with zero effort. Then, with a corny salute, he turns and hops off the wall, vanishing from view.

Turning around, I take in the entirety of Hope’s End. From thevantage point of the lawn, it looks enormous, forbidding. It’s easy to forget that when you’re on the inside, navigating its bloodstained stairs and tilted halls. Lenora’s the same way. I remember the fear I felt when stepping into her room for the first time. Her reputation preceded her. Now that I’ve gotten to know her, that reputation has, if not faded, at least been made more benign by familiarity.

Not anymore, thanks to Kenny.

Now my gut tells me I was wrong about initially thinking there are only four people at Hope’s End who could have shoved Mary off the terrace. There’s someone else.

A fifth, highly unlikely suspect.

But now a suspect all the same.

Lenora.

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