Page 33 of With a Vengeance

Desperation has crept into Edith’s voice. With it is a tinge of fear that Anna wants to enjoy but can’t. She’s too busy thinking about all the times Edith had awakened her from childhood nightmares, kissing her forehead while whispering, “It’s just a bad dream, Schatzi. Nothing will hurt you while I’m here.”

“Let me do it,” Anna says, surprising everyone, including herself. Just like with Sal, she has no desire to engage with Edith on an individual level. But it’s clear Edith isn’t going to let Seamus pat her down without a fight. Anna’s willing to push her distaste aside and do it herself if it means speeding things up.

Standing before Edith, she says, “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Edith slowly rises to her feet. “Schatzi,” she says, not without warmth.

The word unlocks something in Anna. Not mere anger, although she’s plenty angry. It’s more complex than that. Annahatesthis woman. She hates who Edith is and what she’s done. Yet Anna also still loves her. At least the memory of loving her, which is made more complicated by knowing that she once thought Edith had loved her in return.

“Don’t call me that,” Anna says, her tone a warning.

She begins her search at Edith’s feet. That she wears sensible shoes doesn’t surprise Anna in the least. She’d always valued comfort over style, and these black flats, polished to a shine, are nodifferent. Anna moves her hands quickly up Edith’s sturdy legs, barely skimming the hose she wears like a second skin.

“You look well,” Edith says as Anna begins patting her thighs, her hips, her waist. “So grown-up now.”

Anna refuses to look at her. She focuses only on Edith’s dress. The drab shade of gray. The scruff of the wool beneath her palms. How, within seconds, those same palms will have to travel to more intimate places.

“Your mother and father would be proud of how beautiful you’ve turned out,” Edith says, perhaps to make what’s coming next less awkward. Anna doesn’t think so. There’s a sly edge to her voice that feels to her like Edith is needling.

“Don’t talk about my parents,” Anna snaps.

She’s at Edith’s bosom now, patting it down quickly, before moving on to her upper arms and shoulders.

Edith shakes her head. “They’d be proud, but they would also weep at the person you’ve become.”

Hearing that unleashes in Anna a rage so ferocious it literally blinds her. Stars dot her vision, blocking out Edith’s face. The anger is all-consuming, filling Anna’s ears with the sound of her pounding heart and making her hands go numb. For a moment, she sees nothing, hears nothing, feels nothing.

Sound is the first sense that returns, in the form of ragged, pained croaks that Anna can’t quite identify. Next comes sight, the stars fading just enough for Anna to see her hands wrapped around Edith’s throat. A second later, she feels the bunching of skin beneath her palms as she squeezes Edith’s neck.

Anna drops her hands, shocked. By now Seamus is upon her, dragging her away from Edith while hissing in her ear, “Get a goddamn hold of yourself.”

Seamus guides her to the nearest chair and Anna falls into it.Across the lounge, Edith also returns to her seat, taking in air with great, heaving gasps. With a trembling hand, she massages the spot on her neck where Anna’s own hands just were. Seeing the twin red marks she left behind makes Anna angry at Edith for egging her on but even more mad at herself for falling for it and entirely losing control.

“Pull yourself together,” Seamus tells her. “She’s not worth going to prison over. None of them are.”

“I’m s—”

Anna stops herself from saying the word.

Sorry.

Because she’s not. Of all the emotions colliding inside her, sorry definitely isn’t one of them.

“It won’t happen again,” she tells Seamus.

He nods. “Good. I’m assuming you didn’t find anything.”

“Nothing,” Anna says. “Just like the others.”

“Because none of us did it,” Sal says from the opposite end of the car, making Anna realize they’ve all been listening—and watching—this whole time.

Anna stands and smooths out her dress, trying to signal strength and composure. But it’s too late. They’ve all seen how easily she can snap. Forget her parents. It’s Aunt Retta who’d be disappointed. Her actions were a flinch writ large.

“One of you killed Judd Dodge. There’s no one else here who could have done it. And none of us are leaving this car until the killer confesses.”

No one does, which isn’t a surprise to Anna. She didn’t expect anyone to come forward—yet. Clinging to the hope that it’s only a matter of time before one of them cracks, she decides to wait them out.

Five minutes pass.

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