Concealed

  “Marcy?”

  “N-No, I’m Amanda. And my daughter’s name is Jenny.” The woman’s eyes fixated on the blood and the dog. “I-I did that, didn’t I?” Sydney nodded, afraid to move much or say anything out loud, unsure how the woman before her would respond. The woman, Amanda, looked at the gun in her hand and flung it onto the kitchen counter like it was radioactive. “Why won’t he just stop hurting people?” she mumbled to herself.

  At least for the moment, Sydney felt safer.

  “What’s the date?” Amanda asked, her hand fluttering to her throat as if she had forgotten how to speak.

  “It’s the fifth. November fifth.”

  “Four weeks,” she gasped, tears welling up and spilling from her eyes, “I was gone four weeks this time.” Her forehead wrinkled as she looked at Sydney. “You.” She stumbled forward again, unable to operate her own body. “You’re the one who has her.”

  “I didn’t take her, Marcy begged me…” Amanda raised a hand, halting Sydney mid-sentence.

  “I don’t know how long I have left. Do you have a picture of her?”

  Sydney frantically patted her pockets hoping she could stay on Amanda’s good side long enough to escape. “My phone. It’s back in my car but Agnes might have a picture somewhere.” Carefully Sydney reached for one of the drawers hoping to find a picture, or get closer to the gun. At this point she didn’t care, she just wanted to find her daughter and get the hell out of there.

  The first drawer she opened had dishtowels in it, no hidden gun or false bottom, much to Sydney’s dismay. Amanda stood between her and both the gun and the kitchen door, so running was out of the question. Charles could come back at any minute and she needed to think fast and keep Amanda as calm as she could. Hopefully she could use Amanda’s guilt against her. She inched her way toward the drawer that she knew held the silverware.

  Amanda moaned and stumbled, clutching her head as she slid to the ground at Sydney’s feet. Just like she had all those years ago. A shiver slid down Sydney’s spine at the memory, and she jumped away from the woman like she had done back then, reliving the terror.

  Leaning back against the cabinets, Amanda offered Sydney a teary smile. “What does she look like? Describe my baby girl to me. Let me see her in my mind, just one more time.” The sorrow and desperation in her voice were heart wrenching. Sydney looked away and saw the gun on the counter a few feet past Amanda. If she took advantage of Amanda’s sadness, it was her chance to escape. She slowly moved closer, offering tiny details about Faith with each step.

  “She has gorgeous brown curls. The color of your hair, actually. It’s past her shoulders and a real bear to comb in the morning.” She was about four feet away from the gun that was teetering on the edge of the kitchen sink like a beacon. “Her eyes are big and round, the color of sapphires, a very deep shade of blue, and she has the sweetest dimple on her left cheek.”

  The deranged woman grabbed her hand, pulling her to the ground beside her, putting Sydney further from the gun she so desperately wanted in her hand. She didn’t appear to want to hurt Sydney like she had before. Now she was clinging to Sydney for dear life, her hands trembling uncontrollably. “Is she happy?”

  As she sat on the floor, the scene surrounding her was surreal. The woman beside her was back from the dead. All around them the floor was crimson from Diablo’s blood. And Sydney’s. Bloody footprints tracked over the floor in a macabre trail. She winced as her fingers brushed against her injured side. Sydney’s blood loss was starting to affect her more, her vision coming and going if she moved too fast. Instead of shoving Amanda out of the way and running for the door, she looked at the broken woman before her and did the unthinkable. She answered the question because it took more energy to avoid it. In a twisted way, she felt she owed Amanda that much for all the joy Faith had brought to her life.

  “She’s very happy. Ronald never touched her, he never hurt her. You saw to that, Amanda. You protected her.” She tried to smile encouragingly but when Amanda tipped her head back and started mumbling to herself she knew another personality was about to emerge and depending on who it was, her time was limited. “Let me go and I can continue to make her happy. I promise that I’ll spend the rest of my life putting a smile on her beautiful face.”

  “That’s very sweet of you, dear,” she said in a motherly tone. “I knew you’d be good for the little one the night I gave her to you.”

  “Marcy?” Hope spiked through Sydney with this personality’s return. “You’re back.” She was at least reasonable and knew Sydney didn’t steal Faith, so maybe she was her best chance of getting out of here before someone else was hurt. Unfortunately for Sydney, Marcy didn’t release the death grip on her wrist or let her go.

  “I wish the others would have agreed with me. We could have spared ourselves so much trouble these last few years. Charles is terribly bloodthirsty, I’m afraid.” She shook her head, reflecting on whatever horrors the personalities living within Amanda Washington had committed. “I tried to keep him from finding you, but eventually, it was going to happen. I’m glad the girl has you. Amanda never could have cared for her, and Ronald would have done terrible things.” Marcy shuddered and bile rose up the back of Sydney’s throat at the mere thought of Ronald being anywhere near Faith.

  “I never meant to keep her from you, but I truly believed you died that night,” Sydney said, inching her body down the base cabinets and toward the sink. When the room started to spin, Sydney closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  It was time to make her escape. She was running out of time. The police hadn’t shown up with guns drawn, and there was no sign of Wade which was terrifying her. What if he had approached Marcy, not knowing who she was and Charles came out and attacked him? Wade would have been caught off guard and wouldn’t have stood much of a chance. He could be alone and hurt somewhere, or worse. The shaking started again as the fear consumed her.

  Where are you, Wade? She screamed in her head and her heart, on the verge of a panic attack.

  There still hadn’t been any sign of Agnes or Faith. On one hand, it was a relief to know that they were either far away or hidden so well that Sydney was confident Marcy would never be able to find them. Unless she burned the house to the ground. Sydney pushed that thought aside; Marcy and company would never jeopardize Faith’s life. That was the only thing keeping her from hysterics.

  If she ran now, there was a chance she could get away and find Wade before it was too late. Together, they could come back, take care of Marcy, and get Faith safely out of the house if she moved fast enough. If she took too long, there was always the possibility Marcy could find Faith and disappear with the little girl forever. While she decided what she was going to do, she again mumbled, “I thought he killed you.”

  Marcy let out a rough chuckle. “Sure you did.” She sneered in disbelief, her personality again shifting. From the change in posture and hatred in her eyes, Sydney knew Charles was back. It set off every panic alarm Sydney had in her body. Her eyes were crazed, but calculating. “I’m holdin’ up pretty damn well for a dead person. Don’t you agree?” Charles raised a bloodied fist and Sydney braced herself for a blow that never came. “No worms crawling, feasting on me. Ronald ain’t so lucky.”

  Sydney took a deep breath and fought to clear the lightheaded feeling that was coming over her. She couldn’t wait or try to reason her way out of this anymore. She was losing too much blood. With a burst of speed, she stood up, spun and reached for the gun. She watched in horror as it fell into the sink because of her clumsy movements. The gun clanged into the metal basin, Sydney chasing it clumsily as it slid and twisted away from her hand. When she finally had a finger on the gun, Sydney was rammed in the back, the weight of the woman behind her forcing her to bend over the counter. Her head dangled into the sink basin while her injured side screamed in pain. Charles used Amanda’s height and a surge of insanity-driven adrenaline to hold Sydney down forcing her long blonde hair to swirl down the
drain as she was pinned in place. The gun was ripped out of her hand and slid well out of her reach. She found herself once again, defenseless.

  “If I turn on the disposal, I can watch the hair be ripped from your head,” Charles growled in her ear. Sydney could feel the pinch of the knife at her neck. “Did you like the present I left you at the diner?”

  Sydney forgot about the pain and the danger and shoved back as hard as she could, outraged. Weak from blood-loss, her thrashing did little to dislodge the woman who continued to laugh and tighten her grip while Sydney’s blood pooled on the counter. She didn’t know how much longer she could fight.

  Sydney tried to no avail to get her feet under her, to kick Charles, but she was bent so far over the counter, her toes were barely touching the ground. She had no leverage to do anything and was at the mercy of Amanda’s alternate personality, which terrified her. Charles was more than a brute, he was deadly.

  “Put your hands behind your back. Make a move for the gun again and I’ll slit your throat.” The zip tie stung as it was slipped around her wrists, cutting off circulation to her hands once again. Sydney was shoved into a chair while Charles tucked away the knife and methodically checked all of Mrs. Whittman’s security cameras.

  “I’m taking Amanda’s daughter back.” With a mocking smile she added, “And then killing you.” Charles wasted no time and dragged Sydney to her feet, the gun now in hand. “Now, let’s go find Jenny.”

  CHARLES LED SYDNEY THROUGH the house, barking out Faith’s name, doing nothing to disguise the hatred that contorted Amanda Washington’s beautiful face each time she said the name. They systematically searched the rooms with Charles banging on the walls and slamming a foot onto the floor, listening for any differences in the density of the surfaces as she hunted for a hidden door.

  Charles had obviously done some research on Agnes.

  After some searching, Charles managed to find one of the hidey holes in the guest bedroom that Faith often slept in when she was there. Sydney held her breath, praying that Agnes and Faith were far, far away from the house. If they were on the other side of the door, she was afraid that, in a fit of rage, Charles would kill them all. Sydney screamed when Charles shot open the lock, terrified that Faith might have been on the other side. When Charles threw open the door and there was no one inside, Sydney sagged with relief. Charles gave no reaction but a single curse under her breath.

  “I’m getting tired of this. If you can’t help me find them then I have no use for you, blondie.” She motioned with the gun. “Kneel down, let’s get this over with.”

  “N-No, no wait. I do know of one safe room, but there’s a key we need to find because it’s a steel door. I-I’m just not sure where the key is.” Sydney had no idea where the lie came from, but it was enough to make Charles pause and buy her some more time.

  “Then what good are you?”

  Where Amanda was overly emotional, Charles was controlled rage. Marcy hinted that Charles had been the one to stand up to Ronald and the thought that this personality had been able to inflict damage and ultimately kill someone as violent as Ronald was beyond frightening. Faith was probably the only person safe from Charles. She’d kill Sydney and Agnes without a second thought.

  The only way to defend herself was to find a weapon, and fast. She had to make a guess where Agnes was most likely to have an extra gun lying around.

  “It has to be in the kitchen. She spends most of her time at that table eating and playing solitaire,” Sydney said in a rush, praying Charles would bite. There had to be a weapon in the kitchen, if only she could find it before it was too late.

  She seemed to consider it, and thanks to George Whittman’s excellent home construction skills, Charles didn’t know where else to look, so she agreed. Annoyed, but willing.

  “Tick, tock. You have two minutes.” Charles shoved her into the kitchen and smiled as if it was going to be great entertainment. She tucked the gun into the back waistband of her jeans and leaned against the counter to watch Sydney’s frantic search. She pulled out her knife, clicking it open and motioning Sydney to turn around. With a flick of her wrist she cut the tie, and Sydney had use of her hands again. It felt like a thousand pins and needles were stabbing her as blood flow returned to her fingers but she didn’t pause. She rummaged through the drawers, praying she’d find a key. Or a gun.

  At this point, either would work.

  It was difficult to search, not knowing what she’d find inside each drawer. She knew Agnes would never leave a gun out where Faith might find it, so it wouldn’t be in plain sight, but she’d have one handy, somewhere. The butter knife wasn’t much of an option. With the way Charles was handling the huge blade in her hand, Sydney would never get the chance to use it. She quickly searched the drawers she hadn’t opened, hoping to find some random key she could distract Charles with until she could find a weapon. She found a box of bullets in the back of one drawer. Sydney knew little about guns, but she slipped two out of the package, holding them inconspicuously between her fingers as she continued to search for a gun that would hopefully be able to fire them.

  “Find the goddamn key!” Charles barked as she continued to click the knife open and shut, open and shut. The noise grated on Sydney’s frayed nerves. All of the drawers had been searched, so Sydney scoured the counter. The one thing that stood out and was large enough to hide anything was the electric fryer.

  “Thirty seconds.” Charles stared at his watch, unwilling to give her any extra time. When Charles turned to check out the security monitors, Sydney dove at the fryer, her hands shaking as she threw open the lid. Her hand hit a bulky metal object and she nearly cried with relief. But she had no idea if it was loaded or if she needed to put in the bullets she found. She should have paid more attention to Agnes at the firing range.

  Charles noticed her fishing around and appeared amused watching Sydney flounder. Her eyes locked on the bullets that had somehow fallen out of Sydney’s hands and were rolling on the counter.

  “So,” she pulled the gun from her waistband and pointed it at Sydney’s head, “I’m guessing you found a gun.” She tsked Sydney’s lame efforts at subterfuge. The sad thing was, if Sydney wasn’t so terrified, she’d probably have done the same to herself.

  “Think you can shoot me before I shoot you?” Charles laughed at the spilled ammunition. “I know my gun is loaded, and you…don’t.”

  Loud banging came from the front door, interrupting Charles’ tirade. “Agnes, it’s Luke. Open up. Hurry, Agnes! Sydney’s in trouble.” He continued pounding on the door and yelling Agnes’ name to the point that Sydney thought his knuckles must be bleeding. Then he went silent.

  And all the while, Charles smirked at the monitor.

  “Another man desperate to save you, Sydney. Hope it works out better for him than it did for the cop.” Sydney tried to remain calm. She knew that was the best option, but at the mention of Wade, all her anxiety came out in a rush of anger.

  “Where is Wade? What did you do to him?”

  “This.” Without a moment’s hesitation Charles unlocked the front door and fired a single shot at Luke. Sydney watched in horror as he collapsed onto the ground in front of the house. It had all happened so fast, Sydney hadn’t had any time to react. She hadn’t even been able to scream in warning to Luke. On the monitor, she could see the blood staining the sidewalk around him.

  “How could you?”

  Charles shrugged and locked the door back up. “Quite easily. All those years brawling with Ronald taught me well. That guy out there means nothing to me. The only people I care about are Amanda and Jenny. Everyone else can kiss my ass.” Charles was so far gone that she hadn’t even flinched as she shot a man in cold blood. God only knew what she had done to Wade.

  “You’re out of time, blondie.” She pointed the gun at Sydney’s face. Inside the fryer, Sydney’s blood covered fingers blindly grasped the other gun, releasing the safety. It was time for her to act. She said a silent praye
r and readied herself. If she was going to die, by God, she was going to die a fighter.

  “You never should have taken Jenny.” Without pause, Charles pulled the trigger.

  Sydney closed her eyes and waited for the impact of the bullet, the last six years with Faith flashing before her eyes. She wouldn’t change a second of it, but she knew she’d die with one regret. She’d never told Wade how she felt about him. That somehow in the last few crazy weeks, she’d fallen desperately in love with him. She couldn’t keep a peaceful smile from spreading across her lips as she waited for the explosion of the bullet leaving the chamber.

  She loved Wade.

  But instead of a horrific death, she was met with silence. Her eyes flew open and she found Charles angrily pulling the trigger of the gun, but the only sound was an insipid clicking.

  The gun never fired.

  “Damn you, Marcy.” Charles hurled the useless gun to the floor and reached for the knife. “You stupid, bitch. It’s no problem, I’ll just gut you instead.” She lunged, the knife slashing across Sydney’s arm as she tried to defend herself.

  Charles was rearing back for another attack when Sydney fired her gun, and by some miracle, hit Charles. Sydney wasn’t exactly sure where the bullet made contact since she had closed her eyes, something Agnes would kill her for later, but it had worked. Charles dropped to the ground like a stone. Blood seeped from her side as she lay on the ground looking more like a sleeping child than a blood-thirsty murderer.

  Sydney numbly stood in the kitchen, staring at the woman who had given birth to her daughter. A woman she might have just killed. How would she ever explain it all to Faith? She’d just taken a life.

  Sydney ran over to the sink and threw up.

  She set the gun on the counter and splashed water on her face, trying to keep herself from going into shock. As she wiped her mouth she had a decision to make. Stay or go? She had to find Faith, she couldn’t leave if there was even the slightest chance she was still inside the house. She grabbed the phone to call the police but there was no dial tone. Furious, she threw it at the wall and paced through the kitchen, her eyes avoiding the monitors. The last thing she wanted was to be reminded that Luke was dead a few feet outside the door because of her.