Emma hesitates, unsure whether to speak. Doubts press against her chest—what if what I say isn't true? What if I misdirect suspicion, slowing the investigation and prolonging the killings? But what if what I know matters? What if it stops the deaths?
Rachel shifts uneasily. She runs her fingers through her hair as she studies Emma's conflicted expression. "What is it, Emma?"
Emma's voice is low and careful. "Do you remember Millie, Lilly, and me being friends?"
"I know that you played at their house sometimes." Rachel nods.
"Right, do you recall their mother having an accident?"
Rachel's eyes narrow slightly. "I remember hearing something about it, but what has that got to do with the case?"
Emma's memories returned uninvited, vivid and aching. "I went to visit Millie a day before she left to live with her aunt, and she told me that the two EMTs on scene, Sam Gain and Evan, refused to help her mom, claiming there wasn't anything they could do for her. Millie was so upset, saying that they didn't even try."
Rachel's voice catches in her throat. "So you think Millie is killing them to avenge her mother's death?"
"No, not Millie; she wouldn't hurt anyone, but her older brother, William, might."
"I didn't know the twins had a brother."
"Not too many people do. He started getting into trouble after his father passed. He'd spend a few months in juvie, get out, and do it all again. His mom thought he was acting out and that he'd stop once he processed grief, but he never did. This continued for well over a year. Finally fed up, their mother, June, sent him to military school, where he stayed until he was eighteen."
"How would he know what Millie's thoughts were if he was away?"
"William was at the funeral."
So she could've told him then. "Did Millie ever say what kind of trouble her brother was in?"
"She said it was petty stuff in the beginning—stealing, vandalism, breaking curfew, skipping school—but then he started beating up his classmates. It was so bad that the boy nearly died. The police looked into it and found he wasn't the only boy William did that to."
"I'm glad you told me, Emma. Thank you."
"Sure, no problem, cuz." She glances at her watch, then adds, "I better get back and see how Lulu's blue hair turned out."
Rachel's heart skips a beat as she pictures her daughter with neon blue locks. "Wait, what? You didn't." Rachel balls her fists at her side, clenches her jaw, and says, You better not have done anything to my daughter."
Emma laughs. "I'm just kidding, Rach."
"You better be."
"Tattoos are okay, though, right? I know someone who will do it for free."
"No."
Chuckling Emma walks away.
"You better not, Emma."
Turning, Emma smiles, waves, and says, "See you tonight, cuz."
"I'm warning you, Emma."
Laughing harder, Emma steps outside.
**
Millie moved with practiced urgency, tending to patients as her mind reels from the officers' accusations. Millie darts from one patient to the next, trying to keep her mind off the horrific deaths.
Millie glances over at one of her supposed friends and glares. You didn't help matters a bit.
Agatha quickly pointed out that she had words with both victims just hours before they passed, causing her coworkers to treat her as if she'd already been convicted of this heinous crime. Of course the police questioning her several times only confirmed what they were already thinking.
They'll stop talking when she walks by or look over at her and glare. She glances up from her computer screen, eyes her coworkers, and then thinks, "How can any of them believe that I'm a murderer? Knowing her friends think so little of her is devastating all in itself. Please help me make it through this day, she prays.
She sees a small group talking in the corner. She then sees a second watching a video from their phone. Laughing, they walk away. I used to be a part of the crowd, she sighs.
Hearing footsteps beside her, Millie glances over to find the snooty witch from the north wing stomping towards the desk.
"Your patient in 112 has been yelling for the past hour, asking when he can go home."
""I'll be there in a minute, once I finish his notes."
"You need to do it now. We have an MVA coming in and need the bed."
"I'm almost done."
Jill shoves her hand across the desk. "Give me his discharge orders so I can take care of him."
Millie springs out of her chair. With her fists clenched at her side, she leans closer, glares at the nurse, and says, "I said I'll be there in a minute."
Overhearing the conversation escalating, Lisa leans towards Jill and glares at Millie. Her voice is barely a whisper but dripping with fear. "You better be careful; otherwise, you might be next."
Jill's face pales. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Just get to him as soon as you can, please."
Millie grabs a stack of papers and shoves them into the nurse's chest. "You want to discharge him so bad, then do it."
The room goes quiet. Millie glances around to find everyone frozen in place. "Get back to work." She yells. Tears blur her vision as she plops back down at the desk.
Everyone avoided her the final hour and a half, often darting into a room or detouring away if she walked their way. When they did have to speak to her, they were tense, being careful with everything they said.
Thank god, I have tomorrow off, she thinks, glaring at her coworkers as she pulls out of the parking lot.
Stumbling into the house, Millie pours herself a glass of scotch. Her normal go-to is wine, but after the horrid day she's had, she needs something a lot stronger than a few fermented grapes.
Seeing what she's pouring, Steven chuckles, then says, "It's been one of those days, has it?"
"You don't know the half of it, Steven." She sighs. Taking a healthy gulp, she grabs the container and tops off her glass.
Steven grabs the decanter from her hands. "Whoa, slow down there, you lush."
She reaches for the bottle; Steven moves it further away. "Why don't we talk about it before you drink yourself to death?"
She guzzles half the liquid in her cup, turns, and says, "Another EMT was shot late last night, and everyone believes I did it. They think I killed Sam too." She finishes, collapsing into the chair.
Steven's face contorts with disbelief. "Why would they think that?"
Taking a gulp of her drink, she answers, Because my supposed friend just happened to mention that I had words with both before they died. Of course it didn't help that the detective questioned me several times."
"That explains why the police were here."
"The police came to the house?" Millie asks, finishing her drink in a single gulp.
"Yeah, they asked me a few questions and left."
"What did they ask?"
"What time did you leave last night? Did I see you when you got back?"
A terrified expression crosses her paling face. Her stomach twists. "What did you say?"
"I told them the truth, that you left around two, but I was asleep when you came in."
"So that was it? They asked a few questions and left?"
"Yeah, why?"
She anxiously glances at the stairs. "Never mind... I'm going upstairs to change."
Taking the steps two at a time, Mille makes it to the top in record time. Racing down the hall, she darts into their bathroom and flings open the hamper.
Millie glances inside to find the pants she wore to bed on top, but her shirt she wore isn't there. Maybe I left it in the bedroom. Searching the floor, she finds a pair of Steven's socks. but no sweatshirt. Where could it have gone? She checks the closet, but it isn't there either. Running to the bathroom, she scans the floor. Where could it be? Defeated, she sits on the toilet and scans the room. Her gaze lands on a photo of her and her sister at the state fair, now mysteriously sitting atop the cabinet. She picks it up, confused. How did it get up here? Millie pictures the bright sunny day in her mind.
Millie can still hear people yelling as the roller coaster swishes down the tracks. The heavenly scent of cotton candy and other delicious foods wafts through the humid air. We had so much fun, she thinks.
Pounding on the bathroom door interrupts her thoughts. "Honey, the police are here to see you. They claim one of your coworkers, Jill Morrison, was found dead in her car."