“This is all very unnecessary. All you need do is keep your mouth shut, and you’ll get everything you ever wanted.” She approaches slowly, like an animal tamer, hands up and palms out, though the butcher knife remains in her right hand. Maura attempts her best pitch as I inch back a step for each one she takes forward.

“I’ll send you to the fanciest, most expensive college of your dreams. Hell, I’ll donate a goddamn wing to get you in. You’ll get everything in my will. Set for life. But this secret, this legacy, it has to stay between us. We’re family, baby girl. You’re my blood. You’re just like me.”

“I’m nothing like you,” I snarl. “It’s like you said. I’m like my mom. Who hated you so much she cut you off.”

Maura chuffs. “Your mother was an ungrateful brat who didn’t appreciate anything I did for her. For us. Happy to live off the fruits of my labor until her precious daddy died. Always an insufferable daddy’s girl.”

Mom’s scream rockets into my mind. He’s dead!

Wait.

“Did you kill Granddad?”

“How else was I supposed to know what happens to the human body when hanged by the neck?” she says as if discussing the weather. “Celia, it’s all for the sake of my books. Making them better. So I can leave you the legacy. The Maura Weston brand.”

“You murdered him for…research?”

Seaview has a history of murders.

“It’s not as simple as that,” Maura snaps dismissively. She’s close enough for me to see flecks of blood fly off the knife. “If I decide to bump someone off, I like to get creative. And then why not use it? Correlation is not causation, and all that.”

Morgan told Amber’s dad she thought Seaview had a serial killer.

“How many people have you…bumped off?” I’ve reached the dumbwaiter, but I’m still so far from the front stairwell. Every movement I make hurts like a mofo, but I think if I keep her talking, maybe I’ll recover my strength.

Or maybe she’ll recover hers.

“Who can say? Maybe just the two. Maybe more. You’re suddenly interested.”

“You said it was my legacy.”

Could I get in the dumbwaiter? Would it take my weight? Or would Maura beat me downstairs first anyway?

“We both know you’re not on board. I can read you like one of my books. I’ve enjoyed this time with you, however. It was nice to bond. Even if it was short-lived.”

The contrast is jarring: Sweet-as-pie grandmother. Sharp-as-shit knife. It glistens as Maura steps closer. My hand clenches tight to the dumbwaiter door. This is my best chance.

“So why did you kill Caroline? Because of Joe?”