It’s not pleasant, but it’s the only way she can raise Kathy high enough to get her head under water.
It works.
Kathy’s waist is on the edge of the tub, her face in the water.
Cameron scrambles to her feet and pushes Kathy’s head in deeper and holds it there. Moments later Willow enters the room with the phone cords in her hand and screams, “Omigod! You killed her!”
“I had to!”
“No! Jesus, Cam! Let her up!”
Willow turns off the water.
Cameron says, “She tried to kill me!”
“What? How?”
“She pushed her body against me, tried to knock me down.”
“Omigod! I shouldn’t have left you here alone.”
“It’s okay. I hit her with the gun.”
Willow looks around. “There’s not much blood.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Jesus, Cam.”
“I panicked.”
“You drowned her?”
“It started off like self-defense. But I was so scared! I just kept pushing her head down to keep her from getting to me.”
“Omigod! You poor thing!”
Willow notices Cameron is still holding Kathy’s head under water.
“Is she-”
Cameron starts crying.
Willow says, “You had to do it. If she’d gotten hold of the gun she could’ve killed you.”
“I killed someone!” Cameron says, between sobs.
“It’s my fault. You didn’t even want to be here. It’s my fault she’s dead.”
“My life’s over,” Cameron says.
“No. It’ll be all right. We’ll figure something out.”
“If they catch us, you’ll tell.”
“No.”
Willow sits on the side of the tub and says, “Let go of her, Cam.”
“I’m afraid to.”
“It’s okay. I’ll hold her under.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my friend,” Willow says. “And we’re in this together.”
Cameron releases her grip, and Kathy’s head bobs to the surface. But her face remains submerged.
“She’s already dead,” Cameron says.
“You never know.”
“Yes you do.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Willow takes over and pushes Kathy’s face deeper into the water and holds it there for five minutes. Then both girls stand and hug each other and cry.
Cameron finally says, “You never touched the safe, right?”
“Right.”
“Or anything else?”
“Just the tub and faucet handles. And the phone cords.”
“And I touched the inside door knob and the lock.”
“There’s blood on the tub, but not the bathroom floor,” Willow says.
“Guess I got her over the tub so fast she didn’t have time to bleed on the floor.”
“That’s good.”
“ Shit!” Cameron says.
“What?”
“We showered last night, and fucked her husband on the bed. And both of us were on the chair. You think he flushed the condoms?”
They go back in the bedroom and look around.
The bed is made, the room neat, the gun back in the drawer with the remaining unwrapped condoms.
“Let’s not take any chances,” Cameron says.
“What do you mean?”
“We should strip the bed and wipe down all the surfaces, vacuum the chair and floor, and clean the shower.”
“What about the vacuum cleaner?”
“Good point. We’ll need to take it with us.”
“We’ll also need to wipe your prints off the front door.”
“And yours off the telephones and the cords. After we put them back like they were.”
“You look for the vacuum cleaner,” Willow says. “I’ll find a trash bag for the sheets, spread, and pillow cases.”
“First, flush all the toilets.”
“Why?”
“To make sure the condoms haven’t stopped them up.”
“Good idea.”
Twenty minutes later Willow exits the front door, carrying the trash bag. Cameron’s right behind her, carrying the vacuum cleaner, closing the door. Willow looks around to see if any neighbors are about, but sees no one. She walks ten feet before realizing Cameron hasn’t caught up to her. She turns to see what’s taking her friend so long to get her butt in gear and sees Cameron standing on the front porch, staring directly into the security camera.
11
“We’re screwed,” Cameron says.
Willow rushes back to Cameron’s side.
“No problem,” she says.
“No problem? Are you shitting me?”
She points to the camera.
Willow says, “We’ll go inside, find the surveillance tape, and pull it out of the machine.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“I just locked the front door.”
“We could break in the back,” Willow says. “It won’t be that hard. There’s a sliding glass door and-”
The suddenness of Willow’s pause makes Cameron turn to look at her. Willow’s staring at the camera, smiling.
“We’re screwed, and you’re standing here making a fucking movie?”
“It’s a fake camera,” Willow says.
“Are you crazy? ”
“Bobby used to sell and install security systems, remember?”
“So?”
“Half the cameras he installed were fakes.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Most customers were too cheap to spring for the full system. And nine out of ten burglars don’t know the difference between real and fake cameras.”
“Is that true?”
“Probably not. But it’s what Bobby told the clients.”
“So when he couldn’t sell the real thing he talked them into buying the fakes?”
“Exactly. For ten cents on the dollar.”
“And you’re certain this one’s a fake?”
“Positive. We’ve got a dozen just like them in our apartment.”
“Seriously Willow? Because if you’re wrong it’s our asses.”
“Seriously. Now let’s get out of here!”
They walk briskly to the car, climb in, and start driving to Willow’s apartment.
“What about the bedding?” Cameron says.
“We should take it to a laundromat and wash and dry it. Then take it to my place, cut everything into small pieces with scissors, and scatter the pieces in dumpsters all over town.”
“I’ve got a better idea. We’ll wash and dry it and put it in your trunk. After work, we’ll take it to my parent’s house. They’ve got a fire pit. We’ll burn it while making smores.”
“What about the vacuum cleaner?”
“Pull over, and we’ll dump out the dust. I need a sweeper anyway. I’ll take it home and wash it from top to bottom, hose and everything.”
“I like the idea of cleaning it,” Willow says. “But keeping it? What if the police show up?”
“Good point. Okay, I’ll wash it out this afternoon. You’ll pick me up and drive me to work and we’ll put the sweeper in your trunk. After work we’ll toss it in a dumpster on our way to my parents’ house.”
An hour later they fold the warm sheets, pillow cases and blanket, and place everything back in the trash bag and put it in Willow’s trunk. They ride quietly back to Cameron’s duplex.
Still in the car with the doors locked, Cameron says, “We’ll never speak of this again, no matter what. If something happens and the police put us in separate interrogation rooms, we won’t flip on each other.”
“They always lie and say the other person ratted you out.”
“But we won’t flip on each other.”
“No.”
“Swear it.”
“I swear. Now you.”
“I swear.”
They sit in the car a minute, thinking about what they’ve done.
Then Willow says, “Chris Fowler.”
“What about him?”
“He’ll know we did it.”
“He won’t have any reason to suspect us,” Cameron says.
“He will. Last night was a big deal. He’ll come home, find his wife murdered, see the safe open. He’ll wonder who would do such a thing.”
“Us?”
Willow nods.
“So?”
“He knows where we work.”
Cameron thinks a minute, then says, “He won’t want to admit what happened last night.”
“He’ll have to. He’s the prime suspect.”
“Not if he’s got a great alibi. He’s at work, right? Wherever that is, there must be a dozen people who can vouch for his whereabouts.”