I drove the scalpel down between his shoulders, severing muscles, nerves, tendons. Calling upon four years of medical school to pick my mark with expert care, so that the blade slipped deep between the vertebrae, where I then twisted it for maximum damage.

Charlie’s body sagged. His head turned slightly, and I could see his stunned expression. He opened his mouth as if to howl.

But no sound ever came out. Shana wrenched the scalpel from his back and, in one smooth move, sliced it across his exposed throat.

Charlie Sgarzi fell forward. My sister stepped out of the way.

Just as knocking came on the front door.

• • •

“POLICE!” PHIL CRIED OUT. “Dr. Glen, this is Detective Phil. Can you hear me?”

Shana and I looked at each other. Neither of us said a word.

“Adeline.” A different voice. D. D. Warren’s. “Are you okay? Your neighbors have reported sounds of a disturbance. Adeline, open the door if you can. We need to confirm you’re all right.”

My sister and I still looking at each other.

A fresh sound. Louder. Most likely Detective Phil, testing his shoulder against the door.

“They’ll get the building manager,” I informed Shana quietly. “He’ll let them in.”

“How long?”

“Five, ten minutes.”

“Long enough,” she said, and I knew what she meant. I had made a promise to her this morning in the prison interview room. Now it was time for me to deliver.

We didn’t talk. We walked to the bathroom together, Shana already shedding clothes as she went. The aspirin was still out, part of the medical kit sitting on the counter. I handed her four tablets. She swallowed them as a single fistful.

Then her fingers, running so lovingly around the tub. As I turned on the first faucet, then the second.

She didn’t wait for the water to achieve perfect temperature. Naked, her body a mess of long, roping scars and short, crisscrossed marks, she climbed in.

“I can’t go back,” she said.

I nodded. Because I’d known; I’d always known. What was the one thing my sister craved most after all these years? Freedom. Complete and total freedom. The kind that came only with death.

“You didn’t kill Donnie,” I told her, because I didn’t know if she even knew.

She shrugged, leaning her head back against the smooth white porcelain. “Hardly seems to matter.”

I could hear banging again. Phil trying to break down the door, no doubt while D.D. went in search of the building manager. I walked to the bathroom door. Shut it, locked it. Not the sturdiest door in the world, but at this stage, it was simply a matter of buying time.

“Were you in love with Charlie?” I asked my sister curiously. “Is that why you gave him some things from Dad? The items I guess he gave to Samuel Hayes.”