Blood on My Hands

on my account. Then I remember that it’s not about me; it’s about Katherine. The door pops open and the officer enters. The lights go on, and from my spot in the woods, I can see the dark silhouette of the officer cautiously moving around inside as if he’s looking for me.
    He disappears from view, then returns a little bit later. Even from a distance I can tell by his movements that he’s more relaxed now, as if he knows that the place is empty. The other officer joins him. One of them picks up something brown, and when they shine a flashlight into it, I realize it’s the paper bag with my hair. Next one of them holds up something darker. I have a feeling they’re my bloodstained jeans. Now both officers leave the EMS building. While one puts the bag and the jeans into his cruiser, the other sweeps his flashlight across the woods. Now the first one joins him. Together they swing their flashlights around, illuminating tree trunks and brush.
    They separate and move toward the trees, flashlights bright.
    And one of them is coming straight toward me.
    Katherine told Zelda to stay in the pool while the rest of us went into the kitchen. The plan called for Dakota to stay near the window. When Dakota tugged on her right earlobe, Zelda was to float facedown in the pool as if she’d drowned.
    We were eating chips and fruit when Mia arrived, breathless and obviously thrilled to be invited. She looked around Zelda’s kitchen with wide eyes and I realized that, like me, she was here for the first time. “Where’s Zelda?”
    “Oh, still out in the pool, I guess,” Katherine replied nonchalantly, and gestured toward the door. “Go out and say hi.”
    As Mia crossed the kitchen, Dakota, standing by the window, tugged her earlobe. I felt my heart start to thud. I really didn’t want to be part of something so cruel. I wanted to tell Mia that she should stop, that it was a trick. But I didn’t. We watched her go out to the pool. All we could see was her back. Halfway there she stopped. Her shoulders rose and tightened. She rushed forward and stopped at the edge. Her hands rose to shoulder height, her fingers spread. I couldn’t see her face, but I imagined her yelling. Her head swiveled as she looked back toward the kitchen, clearly gripped with panic, her eyes wide, her mouth agape.
    Standing at the kitchen counter, Katherine was smiling, her eyes shining with delight.
    Meanwhile, Mia twisted back and forth between the pool and the kitchen as if she couldn’t decide what to do. Her body movements and the expression on her face were frantic.
    “Pretend nothing’s wrong,” Katherine hissed, and looked down at a magazine on the kitchen counter. Across the kitchen Dakota turned away from the window.
    Mia burst through the kitchen door and cried, “Something’s wrong! I think maybe Zelda’s drowned! Call 911!”
    Katherine calmly lifted her face from the magazine and scowled. “What makes you think that?”
    “She’s floating facedown in the pool!” Mia cried. “Call 911. Oh my God, we have to do something!”
    “It’s a trick,” I said, no longer able to restrain myself. I pointed at the pool, where Zelda raised her head as if to see what was happening. Mia’s mouth fell open.
    Katherine shot me an icy look. Then, with a grin, she turned to Mia and laughed. “Fooled you!”
    Mia’s red face at first reflected her confusion, and then, blinking hard, she forced a smile onto her lips. “A joke? It was a joke?”
    She managed one frail laugh … then disintegrated into tears and ran out of the kitchen.
    There was silence. Once again Katherine’s expression turned cold as she glared at me. “You ruined it.”

Chapter 20
    Sunday 8:46 P.M.
    AS THE POLICE officer with the flashlight approaches the woods, the beam burns circles in my eyes. The tree I’m crouched behind isn’t big enough to hide me. I have to make a decision: run or hide? Running means making noise and being easy to spot. Hiding means I’m a sitting duck if he finds me. Now I curse myself for not running sooner. Why did I stay and watch?
    My inclination is to run. It’s what I’ve always done. But something inside tells me not to. If I run now, it’ll be in the dark, through woods, while I’m chased by a man with a flashlight and with a radio to call in backup.
    Instead, I peer around in the dark, searching for a better hiding place.
    Meanwhile, the flashlight beam is getting brighter.
    There’s a cluster of bushes to my right.