Part 38 (1/2)
”Three!” Whitney said. ”It's retired. And Roger Maris was number nine. Reggie Jackson was forty-four, and-”
Wade interrupted her. ”Okay, I believe you.”
Lucy shot him a look of frustration. There would have been nothing better than for Whitney to spend the next twenty minutes reciting baseball statistics.
Whitney frowned. ”I'm so sorry.”
”I forgive you.”
”You don't mean it.”
”Yes, I do,” Wade said, dripping with exaggerated sincerity. ”I forgive you for everything. For the baseball game, for killing all those women-”
Lucy tried to cut him off. ”Whitney, who's the manager for the Yankees?”
But Whitney wasn't listening to her. She said, ”Women? You mean those druggy wh.o.r.es who thought they were better than me? They tricked you. You didn't know better, didn't realize they were witches casting a spell on you. The only way to break the spell was to get rid of them.”
Whitney said to Lucy, ”Get me that bag.” She gestured to a duffel bag on the floor near the door. Lucy hadn't noticed it before.
Lucy walked slowly over. Out of the corner of one eye she saw a flash of movement down that hall, then nothing. Sean? SWAT?
She bent and picked up the bag. It wasn't heavy. She returned.
”Empty it out.”
Lucy unzipped the bag. Inside was a collection of mismatched shoes. Her stomach rolled as she turned the bag upside down and the shoes fell to the floor. Two spike heels, one black and one silver; two flip-flops, and a silver flat that matched the shoe on Sierra Hinkle's foot.
”That's what's left of those b.i.t.c.hes,” Whitney told Wade. ”And you did it to them. You killed them.”
Wade was overcome at the evidence of Whitney's crimes. ”Whitney, what-why? Why did you kill them?”
”To save you.”
”Their shoes-you're sick. You're insane.”
Lucy tried to interrupt.
”Whitney, we can solve this now. Let's talk about-”
It was as if Lucy hadn't spoken. Whitney said to Wade, ”I'm the only sane person here! I need you, we have to be together or I'm going to die.” She kicked the pile of shoes. ”They walked all over you. Used you.”
Wade glanced at Lucy, eyes wide, at a loss for words.
Whitney's eyes narrowed. ”Why do you keep looking at her?” She waved the gun in Lucy's direction. ”How long have you been s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g her? Was she one of your Party Girl bimbos?”
”No, I never met her before today.”
”A one-night stand?”
”No!”
Mrs. Barnett moaned from the couch and tried to get up. Wade knelt by her. ”Mom, it's Wade. Are you okay?”
She didn't respond, but her eyes were open and blinking.
Lucy turned to Whitney, easing her way between Whitney and Wade. Dennis was tracking her with his eyes. She wanted to rea.s.sure him, but there was nothing she could say.
”Whitney, you're hurting inside, I can see it!”
She nodded. ”I love him so much. I can't think of anything but him. I breathe for him. I need him.”
”I see that.” Lucy thought back to the journals and the repeating themes she wrote about. They boiled down to one thing: need. Whitney's sole focus was Wade, and she'd convinced herself that without him, she was no one. ”Wade needs you. He's been reckless and irresponsible without you.”
”I know. He was arrested for drunk driving, he lost his license, he even threw up outside the Yankees game during the playoffs last year.”
”You followed me there?” Wade exclaimed.
Lucy looked at Wade and whispered through clenched teeth, ”Shut up!”
Whitney let go of Dennis, who fell to the floor. She took two steps toward Lucy and hit her on the side of the head with the gun. Lucy stumbled sideways and fell to the floor, her vision cloudy.
”Don't tell him to shut up, you f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h!”
Lucy tried to get up, but the pain made her nauseous. Blood from a head wound dripped to the floor. She lay back down to gather her strength.
Dennis cried out, ”Lucy!”
Whitney pulled Dennis to his knees. She held the gun to the back of his head.
As her vision cleared, Lucy saw movement by the double doors. Dark blue Nikes. Sean. She focused on breathing to dull the pain. Blood dripped on the carpet, but even minor head wounds could bleed a lot. She didn't think it was serious.
Whitney glared at her with fury. ”This one's like all the other witches you f.u.c.ked. Are you f.u.c.king her, Wade?”
”No.”
Lucy slowly eased herself into a sitting position. Her vision started to clear.
”Whitney,” Wade said, ”I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I didn't see that you were suffering. How can I fix this? What can I do?”
”Love me!”
”Okay.”
”You're lying!”
”What do you want from me? Whitney, give me a chance, I'm begging you! Put down the gun and I'll make everything right.”
”You can't! I knew you couldn't love me if you had all those f.u.c.king s.l.u.ts at your beck and call. They didn't need you like I do. Please forgive me.”
Wade looked at Lucy again, lost and confused, and she nodded at him, hoping he understood she wanted him to continue to tell Whitney what she wanted to hear.