Read Online The Killing Jar by Jennifer Bosworth - Free Book Online

He … he had Erin. He told me he wouldn’t hurt her if I did what he wanted.” A choked sob followed. Tears sprang to my eyes and I had to press both hands over my mouth to hold back a sob of my own.
    â€œHe lied,” my mom said, her voice bitter and cold. “We cooperated with him because he said he wouldn’t hurt us if we did. He marched us down to the storage room in the basement, probably because it was farthest from the front door. He didn’t want Kenna to hear anything if she came home while he was”—she paused—“while he was in the middle of things.”
    â€œWhat did he do once he had you down there?” the detective asked.
    â€œHe was insane,” Mom said, not really answering the question. “We knew him, you know. He was our neighbor a long time ago, but after his son died he lost his mind. We tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t listen. He started screaming at us about Kenna, saying she had killed his son, which is ridiculous. Obviously he needed someone to blame.”
    I had to hand it to my mom, she was a good liar. I almost believed what she was saying even though I knew it was bullshit.
    â€œAnd then he … attacked you?” the detective asked, sounding cagey, like he wasn’t sure how to broach this subject. “I mean, he must have attacked you. Your blood was all over that room.”
    â€œYes,” my mom and Erin said at the same time.
    â€œAnd then?”
    A pause, and then Mom said, “We don’t remember.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, you don’t remember?”
    â€œThat’s all we can tell you. Thomas Dunn attacked us. He had a gun, but he didn’t use it, probably didn’t want to alert the neighbors. He used a knife instead, and while he was … while he was busy with me, I yelled for Erin to make a run for it. Sh-she—” Her voice cracked, and Erin cut in.
    â€œHe caught me before I could get out of the basement,” she said in a tremulous whisper I could barely make out. “He hit me and broke my glasses and dragged me back to the room. I … I don’t remember anything after that.”
    â€œYou don’t remember Kenna coming home?”
    â€œNo,” Mom said.
    â€œNo,” Erin said.
    â€œAnd you don’t know how Thomas Dunn died?”
    â€œNo,” they repeated.
    â€œOr what happened to the land around your house? No theories? Aliens? Astrological event? Divine intervention?”
    â€œNo,” my mom said firmly. “We have no idea what happened. We don’t know why we’re still alive. All we can do is be thankful that we are. I’m sorry, there’s nothing more we can tell you, Detective.”
    â€œThen I hope Kenna can fill in a few blanks. Thanks for your time.”
    The detective’s footsteps moved toward the door. I motioned Blake into the room next door to my family’s, which was thankfully empty. Blake and I hid behind the curtain, both of us breathing fast, until the footsteps faded.
    Then Blake looked at me. “You’re shivering.” He took off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. It smelled like him. Like brown sugar and cinnamon, honey and cedar. I wished I could press my face to his neck and breathe him in, let him put his arms around me. But I didn’t dare let him touch me. The hunger was getting worse, a raw ache. A cavernous emptiness that begged to be filled. Withering cells crying to be sated. The papery fluttering in my ears continued, louder now, and my skin prickled like I was being jabbed by a thousand acid-laced stingers.
    You’ve been through this before , I told myself. You made it through that time. You can do it again.
    But that had been different. I had been locked in a cell alone, not surrounded by people.
    â€œWhat are you going to tell that detective?” Blake asked. “You can’t avoid him forever.”
    I shook my head.