Connor was starting to look mildly concerned, but only mildly. His expression was more perplexed than worried. But we had his attention, at least. “Izzy, you and your pals don’t have the balls, and there’s no chance in hell you’d get away with it. Have you thought about that? Going to prison? No, I don’t think any of you would enjoy prison. They don’t serve oat lattes and chardonnay, you know.” He laughed at his own joke.
“Well, I disagree,” said Isabel thoughtfully. “I think we can get away with it. We’re actually pretty smart women. I know that’s probably a surprise to you, but it’s true. We’ve got a pretty damn good plan, and it doesn’t involve us going to jail.” She waved her hand dismissively. “But let us worry about the logistics. You simply worry about—well, nothing, actually.”
A few discernible beads of sweat appeared on the chest of Connor’s crisp white shirt, and his eyes were unfocused. He was swaying slightly as he tried, with difficulty, to settle on Isabel’s face. The GHB had definitely kicked in.
“You’re not going to kill me,” he insisted, but his tongue was thick as he said it, and I had to admit to myself that I was enjoying seeing him unravel. I was also shaking with fear at what I knew was coming.
“We are, though,” said Vanessa.
“Stay the fuck out of this,” he snapped at Vanessa. “Izzy, please—”
“Stop calling me that. I hate being called Izzy. No one calls me that.”
Isabel looked at Vanessa and nodded. Her face showed no emotion.
Connor started to lunge, unsteadily, toward Isabel, his hands outstretched, reaching for her neck. With that, Vanessa grabbed a huge knife that I hadn’t noticed on the coffee table behind her and unceremoniously plunged it into his neck, inches from my own face.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Tuesday, October 13
Blood spurted out of Connor’s neck and splashed onto my shirt. It poured out of him like lava, immediately soaking the carpet a shade of dark crimson, like spilled cabernet. His eyes went blank, and then he collapsed, falling onto the couch first, and then the floor. His body convulsed. And then he was still. So, so still.
He was dead, or appeared to be. That part we’d agreed to. But this was not what we had discussed.
“What the fuck, Vanessa!” Isabel cried out. “What about the injection?”
My body felt numb. This was not the plan. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Kira’s hand was to her mouth. Selena just kept saying, “No. No. No.” We went over and stood with Isabel, who had turned completely white.
Vanessa’s back was to us. She was still holding the knife, unmoving. She didn’t respond to Isabel’s question.
“Vanessa!” Isabel screamed.
She turned around slowly and moved a strand of hair off her face with the back of her bloody wrist, looking at all of us with disdain. “God, you guys are so gullible. There was never a magical heart attack shot. Give me a break. This isn’t Breaking Bad. Honestly, it’s unbelievable—you guys agreed to a murder and you didn’t even bother to, like, I don’t know, google the feasibility of the proposed plan? Dermatological surgeons don’t just have access to lethal drugs that make a crime look like a cardiac arrest. Especially when those drugs are completely fictional. For God’s sake. Do your due diligence. You guys are as helpless and unprepared as Allison!” She scoffed, a cruel laugh that almost reminded me of Connor’s, who was still lying at our feet, his lifeless body continuing to pump blood onto the rug.
“What do you mean?” Isabel asked, frantic. “Why did you lie to us? What are we supposed to do now, with this mess?”
Selena sank to sit down on the armrest, head in her hands. “Our lives are over.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes at the two of them. “I didn’t tell you, Isabel, because he really did deserve to die, and none of you would have agreed to do it if you thought there was any chance of getting caught.” She turned to face the rest of us. “If Isabel’s disappearing act proved anything, it’s that you all only care about your own asses. If you’d come forward as Isabel had hoped—which I highly doubted would happen, by the way—I could have left you out of this next part. But you are needed for this plan. There is still a plan, after all. It’s just not the one you thought.”
“And what is the actual plan?” Isabel asked, tears welling in her eyes.
The bloodstain on the carpet was getting bigger and bigger.
“To punish everyone who deserves it. Not just Connor,” Vanessa murmured, too calmly. My body was tingling with panic. This was going terribly, terribly wrong.