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Thirty-Eight

Lacey kept her eyes closed. Her back hurt in a million places, but no surprise there. After all she was dragged down the stairs and out the basement, thrown into the trunk of a car and then driven somewhere she'd never been. The turns from the mansion exit went away from town. The knockout agent wore off within a couple of minutes from what she could tell. The surprise in this whole thing, was whoever had her, knew about an entrance to the mansion she didn't.

Keeping her eyes shut, she listened intently. The footsteps pacing close to her were barely audible. She guessed it was either Anya or her mother who had her. Crazy, both of them. She had to find a way to keep her talking, and if the muttering she could barely make out was any indication, there was a lot of anger here.

The thump of a fist hitting drywall had her cringing, and the voice barking at her gave her her answer.

"Come on bitch, I saw you move. You're awake. Open your damn eyes. I'll break your goddamn perfect nose for you if you don't."

Her captor grabbed a handful of her hair and slammed her down onto the floor from the couch where she was. She opened her eyes to the blazing brown eyes of Anya as she straddled her chest.

"If you're going to kill me, at least tell me why?" Lacey hissed out, struggling to breathe with Anya's muscular thighs squeezing her ribs.

"Because you robbed me of my inheritance. Because Papa told me it was mine. Because my bitch of a mother kept comparing me to you."

Each sentence accompanied by Anya lifting her by her shoulders and slamming her down onto the floor. Thank God for strong neck muscles. She kept her skull from cracking against the wooden boards she felt under her fingertips.

"When your stupid twin gets here, and I know she followed me, I'll kill you both."

"Uhm, that doesn't make sense. You'll end up in jail. In fact, why aren't you in jail right now?" Lacey scanned the room out of the corner of her eyes looking for anything she could use as a weapon. Meanwhile keep her talking.

"She posted bail for me. Too bad she's never going to get it back. Do you know how good it feels to pull the trigger and watch the soul leave a body?" Anya bounced on her chest, forcing more air out of her lungs.

"Who did you kill first?" Lacey had a pretty good idea. It had to be her father. Theodore Pettigrew and his cancerous brain.

"More like what. Ever notice how there aren't any stray cats around town? Ever notice how dogs disappear? Seeing their idiot owners moping, looking for them, hanging posters, totally amusing." Anya chortled at the memory.

Lacey tensed her ab muscles and managed to get a little more air into her lungs. The grey edges around her vision eased a little and she asked her question again. "Who did you kill first? Your father? Or maybe dear uncle Andrew?"

"How the fuck do you know about him. Doesn't matter. Daddy dearest? He was going to die anyway. So, he was first. Why should I share anything with him?"

"Of course, if he's out of the way then you get the mansion, right?"

"So, you're not a stupid blonde. Hooray for Lacey who gets it finally. You should never have had the mansion. You or Zena. It was mine. Daddy dearest was the oldest."

"You were the one sleeping in the attic?" Lacey took a wild stab at putting it together.

"I had to take care of my property, didn't I?" Anya rolled back into a squat, releasing the pressure on Lacey's rib cage.

"Then you know about Annamarie?"

"Who the fuck is she?"

"Our ghost, and your real mother. You weren't good enough for good old Uncle Theodore. He wanted a son, so he took you away from her."