No Good Deed

EIGHT

The shove James gave Cam sent her reeling backward. She came to rest on the creaky seat of a kitchen chair. They shared a moment of silence, their eyes locked. Cam studied his pupils, trying her best to read the thoughts and intentions that swirled behind them. She didn't have to study for long.

"You thought you could just come out here and play Scooby-Doo, huh?" He advanced a step; even so, a stretch of three or four feet separated them.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cam managed. She struggled to control the tremor in her voice.

James's fists tightened, and a cord-like tendon bulged from his neck. His teeth ground together. "You don't know what I'm talking about," he seethed. Spittle spewed from the smirk that contorted his face. "You've got some nerve, and you can drop the 'play dumb' act. You're here 'cause of her..."

Her eyes darted to the door behind her for a fraction of a second. Could she make it? Did she dare?

"Deanna...?"

His laugh came out more as a bark. "No Deanna. Janna," he hissed malevolently, as if her name were a curse. "You wanted to find out what happened to my sister? Well, you're about to get your wish."

She gripped the edges of the seat beneath her. Her palms and even her cuticles ached from the pressure. "WAIT," she commanded, not knowing what else to say. Not know what else she could say. Her voice came out in a delirious shrill, and she worried she might be on the verge of an anxiety attack. She had to keep herself together if she wanted to get out of this house alive and in optimal condition.

Surprisingly, he obeyed. As if shocked by her words, he froze in place. His head tilted to one side – inquisitively, almost canine – and his lip drooped to a sneer. "You think you're slick, huh? Finding her phone out by the lake, snooping around here knowing goddamn well what happened to her."

"I didn't know. I don't know! I swear. I was just being nice!" Willing herself to move, to jump, to lash out, she realized that she was glued to that seat by the invisible weight of her own terror. If she dashed for the door, she was sure James would dash, too.

He advanced a couple of steps, clearly enjoying the torment that manifested in beads of sweat across Cam's forehead and slid down her cheeks. "Well, you know what they say. No good deed goes unpunished." He reached into a pocket of his cargo shorts – the hideous ones that her own brother adored – and pulled out a neatly wound ball of twine. Before Cam could react, he had her by the wrists. With impressive dexterity, he wove the material around and around, forming a thick knot, never compromising his vice hold on Cam's forearms. "I was a boy scout, you know," he smirked.

"Y-your mom," Cam protested. "Deanna...DEANNA!" she called out in a ragged scream. Panting, she began to babble. "What about when she finds out what you've done. What you did to Janna – "

He released her bound wrists and let them flop into her lap. For a split second, their eyes locked. Sadistic glee sparked in James's gaze. He brought his crusty lips close to her ear, so close that she could feel the heat of his stale breath brush the follicles of the tiny blond hairs along her temple.

"Who do you think pulled the trigger?"