Page 121 of Made for You

Mitchell’s gun is drawn, and fear is ripping its claws into my chest. I wouldn’t die from a gunshot, of course, but if he does shoot me, they’ll all see evidence of my strength.

And they will never let me keep it.

Assuming I even survive this, I will become weak Julia again.

Imprisoned in the hell of her own coding.

The thought is so awful I can’t bear it.

Unless I kill them all.

I count the policemen. Eight, all armed.

I think of the way Mitchell has suspected me from the start, just because I’m different. The way he’s looked at me like I’m a smear of shit he’d like to wipe off his boot. The way he’s delighted in every twist that’s brought me closer to condemnation.

I clench my fists. I roll my shoulders.

Maybe I’ll even enjoy it.

THEN

The moon is shining. Andy is off to a motel near Belmont Ridge, and Eden and I are about to set out, twenty minutes behind him.

I’m dressed in some of Josh’s old clothes, my hair ready to be tucked under a stocking cap, in case anyone witnesses me putting the tent up. In fact, someone needs to witness it, so that law enforcement will assume Josh left our house alive. It shouldn’t be hard to find another camper and make just enough noise to wake them up.

When we get back, Eden will hook me up to her computer and rewrite a memory batch to replace most of tonight. It will be simple—the taillights of Josh leaving. Drinking wine in my misery. Texting Josh and getting the responses we’re sending my phone from his. And then, Netflix and wine. We’ve already set up my laptop here to play Netflix, in case anyone thinks to check my watch history.

Before walking out the door, I hand Bob the parent side of the baby monitor so that he can listen for Annaleigh while he does whatever he needs to do with Josh’s body. The range should reach just fine.

“She’ll wake up at least once, and she’ll want a bottle.” I never would have thought I’d be trusting Bob with my baby, under any circumstance. Maybe all that proves is the smallness of my imagination. “There’s frozen milk I’m defrosting in the kitchen, and I left her bottle next to it. Oh, and Captain. He needs food and water.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll handle it.”

When Eden and I return, the house is quiet. Safe. It’s one in the morning. The lights are on in Bob’s Meat Processing, and all I want to do is go to bed and cry my eyes out, but there’s more work to be done. We’ve decided Eden will keep Josh’s phone and text me one final time, in the morning, before disposing of it. She’s even going to drive back to the camping area so that it pings the right cell tower.

“We need towels,” says Eden. She’s found a kebab skewer with a viciously sharp end and is twisting it in her fingers.

When I lie face down on the towels, it’s nearing two o’clock.

“Three, two, one,” she says.

I don’t even have time to say goodbye to the memories I’m about to lose before there’s a stabbing pain. My skull is on fire. A shriek lights on my tongue, tearing the silence.

My last thought is, The neighbors are going to hear that.

And then, everything goes black.

NOW

“Julia Walden, you’re under arrest.” Mitchell jerks his head at one of his deputies. “Handcuff her.”

I feel my lips lift off my teeth. My muscles are coiled, tense. Strong. Five of the cops are Bloomington PD, and three wear the brown uniforms of Dover County. I’ll start with Mitchell and—

“Andy Wekstein killed Josh,” says a robotic voice.

Everyone turns at once. Two eyes are lighted within the metallic head of Lars, who’s prone on the floor, his face turned toward us. A shiver worms up my spine. When he fell, his power source must have turned on.

How much did he hear?