Chapter 12: Front Row

"Mom," Dominic said. "Put the phone down."

"I've already called them."

Rosalie came one step into the room.

Her eyes went over me, over the towel in his hands, and back to his face.

"You brought her into my house."

"What's in the boathouse, Mom?"

She frowned.

It was not the frown of someone caught.

It was the frown of someone asked a question in a language she did not speak.

"The boathouse?" she said. "A rowboat. Some life jackets. Why would you ask me that tonight?"

"There's a woman in there."

"What woman?"

"Grandma's nurse. The one who went to Arizona."

Something moved behind her face and went still.

"Don't say her name," she said. "That girl said it. That girl said it with her mouth full."

"I never said it," I said.

"She ate her. I saw it. I stood at that table and watched her eat that poor woman."

Her voice had cracked.

I understood then what Maeve had meant.

Rosalie was not lying. She would have passed any test they gave her.

She was looking at the real killer with real horror, and the killer was me.

Sirens rose in the street.

Two cars pulled up outside, close together, and blue light filled the dining room windows.

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