They arrived at the house. Or rather, what was left of it. Melissa knew it had been badly damaged a few years ago in an earthquake. But she still wasn't prepared for the sight. The willow trees were the only things unchanged. They still stood along the banks of the stream. The gate to the property was almost entirely gone, except for a ruined stone column barely as tall as Melissa. One side of the house was caved in and most of the roof was gone, as were the double doors that had been in front.
Garthe pulled up in front and parked near the front opening. Melissa felt paralyzed. Garthe roughly grabbed her from the car and threw her over his shoulder. He used a flashlight to augment the car's headlights – which he had left on – so he could make his way inside. He dumped Melissa carelessly to the floor.
"Why are we really here?" asked Melissa. She tried to keep her tone neutral, but it was a struggle.
"This is somewhere I can leave you where you can't escape and won't be found. Unless I want you found."
"So you can . . .?"
"Kill that imposter."
"Garthe, please." Melissa couldn't help herself. It was bad enough Garthe had killed Uncle Devon. He couldn't also kill Michael.
"I was right: you have let that imposter take my place."
There wasn't enough light from the car's headlights or Garthe's flashlight for Melissa to see Garthe clearly. So she wasn't prepared when he kicked her. She cried out from the pain and tried to get away. But all she could do was curl up as he continued to kick her, yelling that he was her brother, not Michael.
Eventually, he stopped kicking her, and turned and walked away. Melissa found it hard to breathe. Shallow breathes were okay; deep ones were painful. She heard noises but couldn't identify them, couldn't figure out what Garthe was doing.
And then he was back, tossing her over his shoulder again. Only this time, it hurt so much. Melissa couldn't help it. She moaned from the pain. Garthe chuckled as he threw her up against a wall. She just lay there, unable to move.
"You'd best lay there, little sister. I'm not sure how much strain the landing can take, what with most of the staircase missing. And the drop would surely fracture your other hip. But just to be sure, here's a little reminder of our cherished memories."
Melissa heard an odd noise. One she recognized but couldn't immediately place. And then it came to her: the tinkling of glass.
"Garthe, please. Don't . . . leave me here."
"Oh, now you remember I'm your brother. Well, I am going to be leaving you here, on that landing surrounded by very sharp shards of glass. But don't worry; I'll be back. And you had best hope I do. With Mr. Miles dead, by the time anyone else thinks to look for you here, you'll be long dead. Hopefully the mountain lions will leave enough of your body to identify you."
It began to rain, a little summer drizzle. If she were still at Nancy's house – down in the valley – the rain would have been a nuisance. But up here in the hills – wearing only a bathing suit – the rain chilled her to the bone.
"Garthe . . ." It was hopeless, but she had to try.
"Don't waste your breath, little sister." Garthe laughed as he left. Melissa heard his car drive away.
