“Convenient.”

“You’re right.” Ilse swallowed, closing her eyes and feeling another flicker of guilt and shame. “I hate that I didn’t go back for you quick enough. I hate there were others who were suffering. Others I could’ve helped. I hate it all. I’m so sorry. I know you don’t care. But I have to say it.”

“Really? Do you mean it?” Heidi’s voice softened. She glanced off, biting her lower lip.

“I really mean it.”

“Well, if you’re sorry. I guess… I guess I can forgive you. And then, and then together, we can start over. You and me. Two sisters. You’re sorry. And I’m sorry. For murdering all those people. They were pleading. Crying. Desperate. I’m sorry for cutting their throats. I stabbed one with an ice pick. I ran over one with a car. I’m so sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”

Heidi nodded. “Wow. That really works. I feel totally better. Thanks, sis. Hey. Maybe I don’t have to kill you after all.”

Ilse just watched, grim, scooting once more toward the scissors. Now her elbow brushed the desk. She could feel the cup holder rattle.

“Then again, it does annoy me, just a little bit. You keep trying to grab those scissors. So here’s what I’m going to do. I know how much Dad liked using the scissors. Especially on you. That pretty little ear of yours did not get that way by accident. I remember that. You screamed real loud. Such squawking sounds like a crowing rooster. A set of lungs on you. Let me tell you.”

Ilse’s heart plummeted as Heidi reached past her, grabbing the scissors. She pointed them toward her sister, making a snipping gesture.

“It will be kind of poetic, if you think about it. Yeah. Poetic. That’s the word.” Heidi grinned. She tapped Ilse on the nose with the cold blades.

“I think I’ll kill you with these. But, because you said sorry, and frankly, because I believe you meant it,” she said, patting Ilse on the head, “I’m going to go ahead and let you decide how I cut you to pieces. All right? One-time offer. And only because I really like you. How would you like me to murder you?”

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

The fear was complete and the horror at the loss of the scissors settled like silt in Ilse’s lungs, making it difficult to even breathe. She was trapped—stuck. No way out. Death seemed imminent. Fear seemed the only emotion remaining, already having flooded through her, already having filled her veins. So much terror…

She blinked, and in her sleep-deprived state she glimpsed two small feet at the top of basement stairs.

She blinked again… The feet were rooted to the concrete. Frozen. Paralyzed.

Ilse inhaled shakily, eyes narrowing now. She wasn’t a child anymore. She blinked again, and in her mind’s eye, the feet were gone from the top step.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” said Ilse, staring wide-eyed at the scissors in her sister’s hand.