My father pulled something out of his pocket and started to jimmy the lock open. I rushed to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife in the counter block. By the time I’d run back to the hall, my father had the door unlatched.

“How come you never showed me how to do that?” I whispered.

“Like you didn’t get yourself into enough trouble growing up.”

He opened the door a crack.

No voices, just an eerie creaking sound.

He opened the door wider, and an earthy smell filled the air. Something metallic was behind it. Blood, I realized.

No one shot at us. It felt like a good sign.

There was an odd rasp, then a soft moan.

“Someone’s alive,” he said.

We crept down the dimly lit stairs. A man was hanging from the ceiling, swaying slightly on a chain.

“Theo?” I said, and he groaned.

My father found the light switch and turned it on. Theo was soaked in blood from his face down to his bare feet. If he was alive, it was only barely.

“We have to get him down,” I said, but my father was frozen in place. He pointed at the floor, and I realized Ben was lying there, eyes wide, mouth open, and missing most of his throat.

CHAPTER 50

DEIRDRE

The first state trooper who walked into that basement scuttled out like a cartoon character, legs pinwheeling on the stairs.

“What d’you want to bet he puts in for early retirement?” my father commented.

We’d managed to get Theo down from the ceiling, but his arms were still looped in chains. Even on the ground, they were stuck in position, as if he were a doll broken by an angry child. By the time paramedics made it there, he was murmuring like a fever victim. I tried to pick out words and failed.

Finally, some cops arrived on the scene and ordered us out as they set up floodlights around the perimeter of the house. We stood as near the action as we could, watching the parade of uniforms march in and out with the grim tenacity of ants.

“Pity,” my father murmured.

“Because we don’t get to settle our score with Ben?”

He nodded.

“I know what you mean,” I admitted. “But I’m grateful Teddy’s safe, and hopeful Theo will survive.”

My father stared at me for a moment before nodding. “I am too.”

Our impulses were dark and raw. That didn’t mean we had to follow them.

The cops stationed out front wouldn’t let us back in, even though we’d already been inside the house and had contaminated the crime scene. “Believe me—you don’t want to see it anyways,” a grizzled cop with a florid face told us. “It’s like Ivan the Terrible’s torture chamber down there.”

They brought Theo out first on a stretcher. His arms were still dangling above his head, and his mouth was open in what looked like a scream, but he was alive. The next gurney rolled out with a big bag of Ben-sized remains. They left it in front of an ambulance with open doors, but disappeared without loading it. Dead was dead, after all. It wasn’t like Ben was on a schedule anymore.

My phone buzzed again. It was Juliet. I answered this time.

“Deirdre, what is going on?” she demanded. “I was told Teddy was missing, but now he’s safe? And Ben Northcutt tried to kill you? And Ursula tried to throw herself in the East River?” Her voice was brittle and agitated. Every sentence came out like a question, as if she had doubts about reality.

“Yeah, it’s been a day,” I said, too emotionally exhausted to react. “Is Ursula okay?”

“Who cares? They’re putting her in a mental hospital.” Juliet gulped audibly. “What about my brother? Gloria said he’s been shot and might be dead?”

“Theo’s in bad shape. He was shot and tortured and . . . it’s bad.”

“Is he going to live?” Juliet’s voice was very small.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Your father’s men showed up ready to attack, but when they realized we’d rescued Teddy, they took him and fled. They left Theo behind. On your father’s orders, Harris said.”

There was a choked sound on the other end. I wondered if she was crying.

“Juliet, Theo’s going to need your help if he’s going to survive this,” I said. “Can you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“From what Theo told me, your father has been gaslighting you your entire lives,” I said. “Have you ever thought about what would happen if you stood together against him?”

CHAPTER 51

THEO

They moved me from one hospital to another; I might not have noticed except for the color of the walls. “You’re certain Teddy is safe?” I demanded each time I woke. “Also, no opiates. I’m an addict.”

“Your son? Yes, he’s fine. He’s with your family.”

That set off alarm sirens in my head. “Not my father!”

“Your sister, I think? Dark hair, tattoos . . .”

“My sister-in-law,” I said, relaxing. “That’s good.”

I drifted off again. The next thing I knew, a small voice was calling, “Daddy?” Instead of jumping, Teddy bobbled up to the hospital bed like a curious little duckling. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” I lied.

“Really?”

“Maybe a bit,” I amended. “But now that you’re here, everything is better.”

“Kiss,” Teddy said, lifting his arms in an unspoken demand to be picked up. Juliet appeared and lifted him, allowing him to kiss my cheek. He considered my arm, a mix of old scars and new damage. “Looks bad,” he said finally, kissing it too.

“We can only stay for a little while,” Deirdre said from the doorway. “Doctor’s orders.”

For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating. Deirdre came up to Juliet and whispered something; my sister nodded. “Give your father a hug, Teddy. We’re going down the hall to see where they keep the cookies around here.”

“Cookies?” Teddy’s interest was piqued. “I get one for Daddy!”

When they left, Deirdre came closer. “How are you really feeling?”

“Half-dead.” My throat crackled as if someone had scrubbed it down with sandpaper. “You saved me.”

“You saved yourself,” Deirdre replied archly. “Turned out you didn’t need help.”

“Yes, I did. A lot of help, actually.” I took a breath. “I thought I was going to die, in that basement. I know this sounds dreadful, but I wasn’t sorry about that.”

“You have to stick around. Teddy needs his dad.”

“Does he? I can’t decide how I feel about that. It’s as if I’ll damage him by being there, yet I’ll also harm him if I’m not. I’ve caused him enough damage already, don’t you think?”

“You’re not the cause, Theo,” Deirdre said. “I wish you could’ve been honest, but I’d say the same thing about myself. Caro and I both tried to ignore our past. We pretended it never happened. But it was like a wall that divided us. We never dealt with it, so we never got beyond it.”

“My father always says what’s past is past. I thought I could keep everything buried. I wanted to keep it buried. I never wanted anyone to know the truth about me, least of all Caroline. She would think me a monster.”

Deirdre gave me her reluctant, lopsided smile. “The wonderful, terrible thing about Caro was that she could love a monster, even knowing he was a monster.”

“You think we would have reconciled?”

“Maybe you would’ve found your way back to each other.” Her face turned serious. “If you’d told me a week ago I’d be spending time with my father, I never would’ve believed you. I’ve never really trusted that people can change. I think maybe he has, or at least he’s trying to. Reagan said something that blew up my brain. She asked me what it would take for me to forgive him, and I said I would if he died.” Deirdre paused, as if contemplating it anew. “And Reagan said, ‘You believe he deserves the death penalty?’ And something clicked in my brain. I mean, I believe in rehabilitating people—at least theoretically. I still haven’t forgiven my father. But I also want to keep talking with him.”

“I’ll never forgive my father,” I said.

“I wasn’t suggesting you give a sociopath another chance to destroy you,” Deirdre said. “But maybe you should talk—really talk—with your sister. I wish Caro and I still had the chance.”

“Cookie for Daddy,” Teddy said, running back into the room with a sealed packet in his hands.

“Sorry,” Juliet said to Deirdre. “I know you wanted privacy, but we bumped into a vending machine, and a certain someone’s a bit too good at spotting cookies.”

“That’s okay. We got to talk.” Deirdre patted Teddy’s head. “We need to get you back home. Daddy and Aunt Juliet need to talk.”

It was disturbing, watching Juliet have a normal conversation with another human. In my mind, she was forever the antagonist, swiping at Caroline, clawing at me, locking horns with our father. I’d seen her kindness to animals, but I’d always believed that was where her sympathies ended.

“It’s almost like you and Deirdre are conspiring together,” I said, after they left.

“She’s a tough character. I like that in a woman,” Juliet said. “How are you feeling, now that you’ve cheated death again?”