“She’s part of the game, isn’t she?” Hayes says, glancing at Connor to see how he’s taking it.
From the look on Con’s face, I’d say… not well.
“I wanted to come,” Emily says, reaching for me. I step back but she’s a quick little bitch. Her long fingers wrap around my upper arm and grip tight.
It’s not like I’m afraid of Emily, because I’m not. But for fuck’s sake, the girl shot me ten years ago and has been locked away in a mental institution ever since.
Two large men dressed in white scrubs step forward and pry her fingers off me, pulling her back to a more socially acceptable distance.
“And she came with guards,” Hayes adds the obvious.
“I wanted to say I was sorry,” Emily continues. “I didn’t think things through.” She talks slow, enunciating each word like she’s drugged and needs to think very hard about what she’s saying. “I didn’t think things through,” she says again. “And—”
“I think that’s enough for one day, don’t you, Emily?” another man says, stepping forward. He is so obviously her doctor he doesn’t bother introducing himself to Connor and me.
“No,” Emily says in her thick voice. “I have a present.”
“Jesus,” I hear Sofia mutter.
That’s the first time I notice that everyone is here except Louise. Camille is standing near the tall, pointed-arch windows at the far end of the library, holding a drink. Looking every bit the socialite she was born to be with her light blonde hair pinned up, long curling strands hanging down, artfully framing her sweet, heart-shaped face. She’s wearing a winter white linen suit, with wide-legged pants and a tight, cropped jacket trimmed in lace that makes her look like an updated version of Daisy from The Great Gatsby.
She is backlit by the dull gray sky outside and Bennett is nearby, leaning up against the stone wall, looking uncharacteristically frazzled in his expensive suit as he runs his fingers through his hair.
“Can someone get her out of here?” Sofia says.
“No,” Emily protests. “I came bearing gifts.”
“Yes, Emily,” her doctor says. “It’s time to go now. You’ve seen all your friends and they have work to do.”
“I’m part of their work,” she says. “And I have a gift!” Her voice rises a little in building agitation.
Sofia crosses the room to stand next to me. She feels like power in her red dress. It’s silk, I could see that even from a distance. And tight, accentuating her curves. She’s wearing a tightly cinched, thin black belt textured like alligator skin, and lots of jewelry. A set of bracelets clink together musically on her wrists, and a diamond choker encircles her throat. “Get her out of here,” Sofia says. “This is ridiculous. Kiera had no advance warning and it’s not fair to ambush her this way.”
It comes off protective and I shoot Sofia an appreciative glance. She sends me a tight smile back and then I’m unsure if she was protecting me, or herself. Because she seems a little un-Sofia-like in this moment.
“My present,” Emily demands. “I must give her my present.”
Bennett huffs from across the room. “Let me guess, it’s another bullet.”
“That’s not funny,” Camille says.
Bennett shoots me an apologetic shrug.
“It’s time to go, Emily,” Hayes says, stepping forward to take her arm. “But it was nice seeing you. And you can come back again.”
“Again?” I ask, looking at Hayes like I just discovered he’s a traitor. “She’s been here before?”
“Later, Kiera,” Hayes says, leading Emily towards the door.
“But my present,” Emily is still protesting.
“You didn’t bring a present,” her doctor explains. “And it’s time to rest now.”
There’s a small confrontation as the two—nurses? Guards? Whoever they are—reach for her arms when Hayes hands her off. Emily skirts away, running to the other side of the room, pressing her back against the wall.
I sigh. Because I feel like I’m caught in a movie or something. The mansion, the people, the crazy girl with her weird doctor and tall, male nurses who look like prison guards. It feels like we’ve all been written into a script and now we’re each playing our parts.
Emily has her hands out in front of her, trying to ward off the inevitable capture, when a phone rings.
It’s a very old-fashioned, loud bell of a ring. And when I look down I spy a black rotary phone on the small table next to me.
Everyone stops in this moment. Even Emily and her captors. We all just stare at the phone like this little plot twist is the whole point of the scene.
I reach for the handset, more out of desperation to make the unbearable ringing stop than anything else, and bring it to my ear. “Yes?”
Static on the other end.
“Hello?”
“It’s an inside line,” Hayes says, reaching for the phone. I hand it to him and he says, “What?”
I hear someone talking but I can’t make out what’s being said.