Wicked As He Comes (Tiger in Her Bed)

He grabbed a glass of water from the coffee table and chugged half of it. Satisfied, he leaned back in his chair with his fingers interlaced on his lap. He looked so mature; no one would believe he was only eight-years-old.

“Like I said, when I woke up, we were already in that basement. Grandma Savvie was on the table, and he wrapped her with plastic.”

“Did he have a helper?” This time John asked. “Alfred was old and frail. I can’t imagine he hauled an adult and two children by himself.”

George shook his head. “You’re wrong. That’s what he wanted us to think. He just acted old and frail. Really, he was in good shape for his age, agile. I saw him lift a heavy box like it was nothing.”

Jane cursed openly. That monster, she seethed. John took her hand and squeezed it for comfort.

George continued recanting his story like a clear-headed adult. “Harry was still in and out because of the drug, but it effects on me wore off. Uncle Alfred started taping the walls with plastic, and covered everything with it. I asked him why he was doing this to us. He didn’t answer at first, but I kept pestering him until he snapped. I thought to myself, if we’re going to be killed I might as well know the reason, you know?”

The three adults in the room unconsciously held their breaths.

“He said he did this because of our dad. Dad wasn’t a ‘real’ Benedict, while he was a trueborn. He hated Grandpa Will ‘cause he loved our dad better than him. If I may quote from him, ‘I’d rather burn all of the Benedicts’ fortune to the ground than let a bastard prance all over it.’”

“What does bastard mean?” Harry asked suddenly. “I thought it was a swear word.”

Jane shushed him quiet.

George continued. “I asked Uncle Alfred if he had anything to do with our dad’s accident. He didn’t deny it. He laughed like a crazy person. He said he did what he had to. He was cleaning house, he said. Started with Grandpa Will, our dad, and our mom. Jane, me and Harry were next.” He gulped. “Did you see that table with all the killing tools in that basement?”

Jane couldn’t recall. She was too worried about the safety of her little brothers; she didn’t notice anything else in that basement.

“Yes, I saw them,” said John.

“That table, which he called his tableau, was supposed for Jane. It was just unfortunate that Grandma Savvie was with us this afternoon. He said not to worry. He’d correct the problem right away.”

Jane’s blood ran cold upon hearing she was Alfred’s next target.

“I still wanted to ask him more questions but he got tired of listening to me so he gagged us.” George watched them all like he owned the room. “That’s when you came to save us. It was close. Another five-minutes and he’d have killed her. Is Grandma Savvie really okay?”

“She’s fine, George,” said John. “Grandma Savvie is a lot tougher than she looks. You’ll see her soon, I promise. She’s just a bit agitated right now. Once she calms down, you all can see her.”

George pursed his lips, looking exhausted from his explanation. “I’d like a glass of milk, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, baby, of course.” Arielle hugged him, then walked him to the kitchen.

“Do you want some milk too, Harry?” asked Vanessa.

Harry nodded. Vanessa coaxed him to let go Jane’s shirt and held his hand as they walked to the kitchen.

For a long moment, Jane was at a loss for words. She realized that her hands were shaking. John sat next to her and kissed her forehead.

“It’s over now, babe. No one is going to hurt you or your brothers anymore.”

Jane really wanted to believe that but she knew how rotten her uncle was. She voiced her concern and was shocked when John told her Alfred was dead. Mauled to pieces by Savannah in her tigress form. Jane didn’t know what transpired in that basement after she rescued the twins.

Her mouth went dry. “John. I don’t care what happened to Alfred, but this is bad. The police—”

“There will be no police investigation. Quinn’s pulling his strings and Trent takes care of the details. It will be as if Alfred decided to skip town and go into hiding.” John stroked her cheek. “Everything would be okay.”

Still. Jane wasn’t sure about that. Alfred needed to go away but the police and a forensic team were going to investigate. She watched CSI.

“Are you upset because my mother killed your uncle?” asked John.

“No. Oh God, no. I hated that son of a bitch. And Jesus, he was going to murder your mom and my little brothers. The thing is—what if your mom gets caught?” she semi-whispered.

“Babe. Alfred was killed by a tiger. That’s the end of it. The police would never find anything incriminating about my mom anyway.” John gathered her hands in her lap and squeezed them hard. “Do you know why mom went ballistic on Alfred after she woke up from the sedative?”