He sounded cocky. She decided to let him have his due. “Yes, you did,” she agreed as she folded the tea towel and put it on the counter. “We have to make plans.”
“I know,” he agreed as he followed her into the living room. She curled up on the sofa. He sat down in a chair, kicked his shoes off, and propped his feet up on the opposite end of the sofa. He was such a big man he swallowed up the chair.
“But not today,” he said. “Today we rest and talk. Tomorrow we plan.”
“What will we talk about?”
“Not what, but who,” he said. “We need to talk about Jilly.”
She had put it off as long as she could. Nodding, she said, “Carrie kept a diary. She was very young, around eleven, when she started writing in it. The diary wasn’t filled with her hopes and dreams and crushes, though. No, it was all about Jilly. Every single page was filled with one horrific incident after another involving her sick sister. Carrie told me she wanted to have some kind of record . . . proof, I guess, in hopes that one day Jilly would get caught, be put away. She thought that if the doctors read her diary, they would realize how dangerous Jilly was and make sure she stayed behind bars for the rest of her life, but I think there was more to it than that. I think that deep down Carrie believed that one day Jilly would kill her.”
“That was a hell of a way to grow up,” he said.
Avery agreed. “Carrie stopped writing in the diary when Jilly left town, but she always kept it, just in case Jilly came back. I knew where it was hidden, but Carrie wouldn’t let me read it.”
“But you did read it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. I wish to God I hadn’t, though. I was old enough to think I could handle anything, but there was such scary, sick stuff in there . . .”
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen. I read every word, and I had nightmares for months. Carrie had put in a lot of details, and I learned all the twisted facts about Jilly.”
She was hugging a throw pillow to her chest in a death grip. The sadness in her eyes was heartbreaking.
“I hate talking about her,” she whispered.
“I know.”
Her shoulders slumped. “There really are monsters in this world. Predators,” she said. “Jilly’s one of them. Do you know what scared me the most after I read that diary?”
“What?”
“That I would wake up one morning and be just like her. You know, Dr. Jekyll–Mr. Hyde. Genetically, I’m forever linked to her.”
“That isn’t going to happen, Avery.”
“How can you know that?”
“You have a conscience. That’s not going to go away. You’re nothing like her.”
“That’s what Dr. Hahn told me,” she said.
“Who’s Dr. Hahn?”
“A psychiatrist. I was waking up screaming every night, and in desperation, Carrie took me to Dr. Hahn.” She added, “Carrie made me promise not to tell anyone because she didn’t want people to think I was crazy.”
“She was worried about what other people thought?” he asked, trying to keep the censure out of his voice.
“Dr. Hahn was wonderful, and he helped me . . . cope, I guess you could say. Carrie didn’t know why I was having the nightmares because I hadn’t told her I’d read the diaries, and I think it was the third or fourth session when Dr. Hahn asked her to come in and I told her then what I had done. She had a fit, of course, but when the doctor had gotten her to calm down, he asked her if he could read the diary, and she agreed. She would have done anything to help me get over what she called my night terrors.”
She smiled at John Paul as she swung her legs down from the sofa. “I think the doctor had nightmares after he read them. I grew up knowing that Jilly was crazy, and Carrie did tell me stories, but they paled in comparison to what was in the diary.”
“What did Hahn say about Jilly after he read it? What was his reaction?”
“He was excited.”
“Excited?” he repeated, not understanding.
“He was sure Jilly was a pure sociopath, and he wished he’d had the opportunity to study her. Based on what he read, he concluded that Jilly was morally and emotionally stunted, which was why he believed she was incapable of feeling guilt or remorse. Other people’s pain certainly didn’t make her feel bad. On the contrary,” she explained, “she enjoyed hurting people for no apparent reason. She just liked it. She was a master at blaming others and rewriting history, and she was very deceptive.”
John Paul put his feet down on the floor and leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees.
“She was . . . amazing, the way she could manipulate people. Everyone loved her, no matter what she did. She was so damned clever.”
“Give me an example.”
“When she was quite young, she started having fun with pets. She tortured and killed Carrie’s cat with gasoline and a match. She told Carrie what she’d done, but in front of their mother, she cried because, she said, she so loved that cat. One of the neighbors took her to get an ice cream cone to make her feel better. By the time she was a senior in high school, she was into bigger and better. She was the most popular girl in school, of course. Everyone loved Jilly. A girl named Heather Mitchell was voted homecoming queen, and Jilly was voted first attendant. According to Carrie, Jilly was gracious about it at school, but when she came home that afternoon, she went into a rage that lasted for hours. She nearly destroyed the house. Carrie’s bedroom suffered the most damage. Not Jilly’s room, of course. Then, after dinner, she became real quiet and got that sly look in her eyes and pretended to accept it.”
Avery took a breath. The muscles in her arms were aching, and she realized she was gripping the pillow. She let go.
“The next day a beaker of sulfuric acid was missing from the chemistry lab. After school, Jilly got Heather alone, but Carrie saw her take her arm and lead her down the street. Jilly told Heather that she’d better not show up for homecoming weekend or she’d be sorry. Heather was a sweet girl, and she was going through a terrible time. Her mother had died two weeks before of an aneurysm, and the poor girl was still reeling from the shock. When Jilly got through tormenting her, Heather locked herself in her bedroom, but her father finally got her to tell him what was wrong. He said that Jilly had admitted stealing the acid. She threatened to wait for Heather one day after school when she was all alone in her house and throw the acid in her face.”
“Good God.”
Avery nodded. “What Carrie wrote wasn’t hearsay. She talked to Heather.”
“What did Heather’s father do?”
“He went to the principal the next morning and demanded that Jilly be expelled. He also went to the police.”
“And what did they do?”
“Nothing,” she said. “The chief of police was a close friend of my grandmother’s, and he wasn’t going to do anything that would upset her. Besides, it was one girl’s word against the other’s. Jilly, of course, denied the incident. My grandmother and Jilly were called into the principal’s office that afternoon. Grandmother made Carrie go with them.”
“Was Jilly expelled?”
“No,” she said, scoffing at the notion. “Did I mention that the principal was a man? His name was Mr. Bennett, and he was a very unhappily married man. His wife was a cold woman and very difficult to get along with, or so Carrie wrote.”
“What happened?” John Paul asked, bringing her back to the story.
“Carrie watched Jilly seduce Bennett. Jilly became hysterical. Lots of tears flowing, but it was all a calculated act. The principal rushed over to the sofa where Jilly was and sat down beside her. He put his arm around her to comfort her, but it was Jilly’s body language that . . . fascinated Carrie . . . and Bennett’s reaction.”
She shook her head. “Have you ever seen a woman move like a cat? Carrie said Jilly was like that. When Bennett put his arm around her, she rubbed up against him in an obscene way.”
“What did your grandmother do?”
“She was as clueless as ever, according to Carrie. She’d gone out to the front desk to get Jilly a glass of water, but even if she had stayed, she wouldn’t have noticed anything because she didn’t want to notice. Carrie wrote that Jilly was clinging to Bennett while she cried. She had her head on his shoulder, but she looked up at Carrie, who was standing behind the principal, and Jilly had this Cheshire cat smile on her face. When it was over, Bennett threatened to suspend Heather for making up the lie.”
“Jeez.”
“Like I said, Jilly had a way with men. Some of them became obsessed with her. They would call at all hours of the day and night. Every once in a while, Carrie would sneak upstairs into Grandmother Lola’s bedroom and listen in on the extension. She wrote that the men cried and pleaded, and after Jilly hung up, she could hear her laughing. Oh, how she loved the power she had. She loved manipulating, and she used sex to get what she wanted. Her specialty was destroying married men. I’ll bet you can guess who one of those men was,” she said.
“Bennett.”
“Yes.”
“My God,” he said. “And all this was going on while she was in high school?” Before Avery could answer, he asked, “What happened to Heather?”
“She didn’t go to homecoming, and Jilly was crowned queen, but that wasn’t enough for Jilly. Heather had upset her, and so she had to be punished. Jilly tormented her. A month passed, and just as Heather was beginning to think Jilly had moved on, she came home from school one day and went up to her room. She had this old teddy bear she kept on her bed. Someone had poured acid all over it. That someone, of course, was Jilly.”
John Paul rubbed his jaw and waited until Avery continued.
“Carrie heard about it at school the next day. She went to see Heather’s father. He had to stay home with his daughter because she was so distraught, and Carrie told him Jilly wouldn’t stop going after Heather and that he needed to get his daughter out of town and not tell anyone where she had gone. Heather was close to a nervous breakdown. She was seeing a therapist,” she explained. “And the therapist thought it would be good for Heather to get away from Sheldon Beach. She left during Christmas vacation and didn’t come back.”
“Did it ever end?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “Heather’s father filed another report with the police two months later. He said that someone was stealing his mail. One Saturday afternoon, he happened to look outside and saw Jilly opening his mailbox. She was looking for letters from Heather so she could find out where she was.”
“She doesn’t give up, does she?”
“No, she doesn’t. She never had sex with any of the boys in her high school. All her friends believed she was sweet and wholesome. Carrie heard a couple of rumors about Jilly, but not from anyone at school. Heather was the one who was ostracized, not Jilly. She was that good at being bad.”
She stood and stretched her arms above her head. “Do you want something to drink?”
After the story she’d just told him, hard liquor sounded good to him, but he settled on a Diet Coke instead. She got herself a bottle of Evian water and handed him his soda.
He opened the can, took a swig, and asked, “Did your grandparents try to get her some help when she was little, or did they know then that something was wrong with her?”
“Grandfather left when Carrie and Jilly were little girls, and Grandmother Lola lived in what Carrie called a fantasyland. She had an excuse for every atrocity Jilly committed.”
“When did Jilly get pregnant with you?” he asked.
“Her senior year. Carrie thought her pregnancy saved Heather because Jilly had other things to think about. Jilly tried to get an abortion, but the doctor wouldn’t do it because she was too far along. She gave birth and left town three days later. And that was the last entry in the diary,” she added.
“Leaving me behind was the last straw for Grandmother. She dragged all of Jilly’s things out to the curb for the trash collector. When she was packing up her things from the closet, she found a shoe box full of mail from Heather’s house, and guess what else she found?”
“The acid.”
Avery nodded. “The beaker was only half full, but it would have been more than enough to kill Heather. I think Jilly didn’t forget about that girl. I think she was biding her time.”
A clap of thunder jarred her. She flinched in reaction, then got up and walked to the window to look out. Dark angry clouds loomed overhead. Lightning sliced across the sky, and then there was another booming blast of thunder.
She didn’t turn around as she said, “Carrie didn’t think Jilly was very smart. She used her body to get what she wanted. She’s obviously become more devious and clever over the years. Carrie said there wasn’t a man alive who was immune to her charms.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Skarrett obviously became obsessed with her, and look where he ended up. When I was five years old, Jilly and Skarrett came to the house. Jilly told Grandmother she had to pay to keep me. Fortunately, Carrie was home. She told Jilly she didn’t have any legal rights to me and pushed her out the door. It was a horrible fight, but Skarrett kept his distance . . . then. Jilly kept screaming, ‘You’re dead, Carrie. You’re dead.’ ”
“Where were you while all this was going on?”
She turned around and looked at him. “I don’t remember any of it, but Carrie told me she found me hiding under my bed. After they left, Carrie promised me they would never come back.”
She took a gulp of her water, put the lid back on, and stared down at her hand. There was a deep indentation in her palm from where she’d been gripping the bottle cap.
“But they did come back, didn’t they?”
“Yes.”
He watched her closely as she closed her eyes and told him what had happened on February fourteenth, all those years ago.
When she was finished, she said, “Skarrett’s her puppet. And I think she’s got Monk doing her bidding now too. She’s playing both of them to get what she wants.”
She put the bottle down on the table and took a step toward John Paul. “So now you know.”
“Now I know . . .”
“So?” she demanded. “Tell me what you think.”
He shrugged. “I think you’re right. Jilly is a maniac.”