The sight of them made my stomach rumble for the first time that day. A dozen sourdough loaves cooled on the counter. Leftover soup bubbled, the tang of curry on the air. “ Have to get these numbers crunched before Jim heads to town.” In the kitchen, onions sizzled in a cast iron skillet the size of a tire.

She smelled of goat manure and sandalwood. Her curly hair blanketed her broad back as she added, subtracted, multiplied with a worn pencil on the back of an envelope. If it’s not all of you in on it, I know you’llīasket of receipts. Doesn’t matter who pulls the trigger, because it’s all five of you deciding together. “ You’ll plan it and carry it out together. It’s always about her.” “You mean,” Cornelia says, sounding more than a little relieved, “you want Saskia to kill you?” “It will be all five of you,” Abraham says. “Because you knew Saskia wouldn’t come if we didn’t come, too.” That’s Ben. Heck, I’m sure Tomas would be thrilled to shoot you himself.” “Because you’re good at it.” The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. You could shoot yourself with Tomas’s stupid gun. Can I do it right now?” “Why does it have to be us?” Xavier says. “ We’d been told, by the person we trusted most, that we wouldn’t be able to survive in the outside world.” “You were old enough to know that murder is bad, weren’t you?” Ben turns to us. “The murder you promised would mean we could stay here? The murder you orchestrated and then abandoned us to? We were kids, Abraham.” Issy’s voice swells with emotion.

“ How do we know you know what it is?” “I mean the murder,” he says, right quick. Did, that terrible little thing, gets out.” Cornelia crosses her arms.

Miranda beverly whittemore