[ Highest Rank #101 in Mystery/Thriller ]
Time has passed. Things have changed. Isabeth, Benny, and Faith aren't quite the same. They have blood on their hands, a code they honor, and secrets they keep locked away. The Psychopath Maker knows this an...
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The Chambers' Pool House was tucked behind a thick curtain of walnut trees. A mile and a half from the main house so the high-pitch screams and habitual splashing were erased from the ears of Harper's mom and stepfather. Isabeth worked magic as food lined the beech coffee table from succulent ribs to baked ziti. It was far from a luau as the seven of them gathered in the living room.
"He's been declared criminally insane." Dalton watched Isabeth lean over the table placing two wings on her plate. "He's not getting away with what he did."
"Lucas didn't seem insane to me." Harper proclaimed handing Preston a plastic fork out the paper bag sitting next to her on the floor. "Maybe he lost his mind after I left."
"Maybe he's faking." Preston sounded. This was one of those days he was ignoring his diet, lying on his six-pack, stone-hard abs throwing back his ninth's pot sticker, this one shrimp.
"I'm with Preston," Alex affirmed. "In our group session...back at Holsten, he told the same damn story. While he sat in the same chair, every damn Thursday with a solitary tear falling from his eye. He never broke down; hell the tear never switched eyes. Even Denzel isn't that good." He bit into an egg roll.
"He's just trying to lie his way out of death row," Malachi added lugging bottles of cold water from the kitchen.
"I forgot." Dalton dropped his spoon, clacking it against the plate. " Texas does have the death penalty."
"It still doesn't add up, though." Dalton cut a julienned piece of cabbage. "Why, did Lucas kill Brittany, Kevin, and Maya? Why is Gavin in a coma?"
"It's mind-boggling, we know." Malachi chirped. "Crazy is unexplainable."
"That's why I went to school in Switzerland." Preston's hand hovered over the table searching for the next thing he wanted to devour. "You should've stayed at Le Rosey, man." He nodded to Dalton.
"They're loonies in Europe, too." Faith twisted the top back onto the water bottle. "America doesn't monopolize crazy."
"Name one." Preston dared, plopping a slab of ribs on his plate.
"Jack the Ripper." Faith threw out.
Preston sucked the sweet, spicy barbecue sauce from his fingers. "Not Circa 1888!"
"Marie," Malachi added crumpling the empty water bottle between his hands.
"Who is that? "Alex asked cocking his head his brother's way.
"You know the French girl." Malachi jerked his thumb toward Alex. "That brings her college roommate home, then her whole family gets butchered."
Dalton squinted with vague memories of a story like that. "You mean that girl from High Tension? The movie."
"Not a psycho from a movie, either." Preston insisted through his teeth tugging on the smoky, tender meat hanging on the cow's bone. "A real one."
"Can we move on to another topic?" Harper rubbed at the goosebumps rising on the back of her neck. "I don't want to talk about psychopaths, anymore."
"Adolf Hitler," Isabeth interjected. " His psychopathy led the whole world to war."
"True." Malachi pointed at Preston smugly.
"My girl." Alex kissed the side of Isabeth's head.
"Put on some music Harp." Malachi grabbed up the half-eaten platters scattered on the coffee table. "I need to work this food down."
"No," Faith harked with distaste. "Anything but that."
"What's wrong with the Nae Nae." Harper clicked the music on, rhythm and bass pounded through the surround sound.
"Well, I'm more partial to The Dougie," Alex said demonstrating the dance.
"Now, that's a good dance," Preston spoke standing up stretching. "Better than The Nae Nae."
"You're just mad because you can't do it." Faith teased coming back from the kitchen.
"That's it, Faith!" Malachi shouted from the kitchen determining what was leftovers and what needed to be tossed.
"You know what my dance is," Isabeth stated wrapping her tresses in a bun. "The Stanky Leg."
"After The Stanky Leg." Faith gestured. "We can Chicken Noodle Soup then Walk It Out." She illustrated each dance.
"Ah!" Dalton laughed holding his stomach. "You stupid."
Harper smiled, "What about the Running Man." She shuffled her bare feet across the Persian rug.
"Pssh, too old." Preston waved Harper off. "It's that Shoulder Lean you need to be doing," Preston added dipping his shoulder.
The doorbell rung momentarily stopping the music, "I got it." Isabeth offered. She Moonwalked to the hallway and did the Harlem Shake to the door. She laughed at herself before popping the lock. Isabeth swung the door back.
The girl standing on the porch was breathtaking with bone straight long black hair, in a skin-tight white tank, black sweats with the word "Hollister" running down her leg in red letters, and white Nikes with a red check. She was out of her usual ensemble that boasted I'm the daughter of a fashion designer. Her appearance hid her identity but her eyes couldn't hide her soul. Isabeth knew who she was.
"Fiona!" Isabeth screamed, engulfing the girl in a bear hug. "OMG! You're back!"
Will Dalton's prying get him in trouble?
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