"So she was hearing things," Melody said. As Puzzle had been talking, Melody had at some point sat down on the edge of the bed. She nervously pulled a loose string that was coming out of one of the blankets. The blanket was different than the ones Melody had. It was made of white yarn and appeared to be homemade.
"Evidently," Puzzle said.
They were silent for a moment. The shouts were quiet now, and it was making Melody more nervous than the screams had.
"Why do you care about her like that?" Melody said. "I mean, you were freaking out."
"I was not freaking out," Puzzle said, sounding annoyed.
"You were kinda freaking out.
"I was not!"
"Really?" Melody said, fighting a grin. "Because I've seen freaking out, and it looked a lot like that."
Finally, Puzzle grinned. "Shut up!" She grabbed one of her pillows and hit Melody with it. Melody laughed and A faint but all-too-familiar noise made both Puzzle and Melody tense up. Puzzle sat up straight, the smile gone. There was the distant siren of an emergency vehicle.
Melody took a deep breath and tried to bring a gentle smile back.
"That's the first time I've heard a siren since coming here," she said. She tried to make her voice sound light-hearted, but it came out shaky and nervous even to her own ears. The siren couldn't be for Versailles. Of course not. There were other houses and a few small businesses in the area. Melody imagined the possibilities— an old woman had fallen down and broken her hip, maybe a child had accidentally called and it was all just an honest mistake— Melody had reported on more than a few of those in her time as a beat reporter. It was one of those things that no one wanted to write about, so it went to the younger reporters. Maybe the siren was because of a building or house burning.
Whatever it was, it was not for Versailles. It couldn't be. None of them had done anything wrong. They would be fine, right?
But instead of fading into the distance, the siren got louder and louder. They were coming closer. Melody's insides felt like they were twisting inside her.
Unwanted memories flashed before her eyes. The sirens. The baby, crying in the crib. She remembered seeing Thomas and the new girl, a ring on her finger. A shotgun wedding that Melody wasn't invited to, but she watched all the videos and looked at all the pictures as soon as they were posted online. She cried the day of the engagement, the day of the pregnancy announcement, the day the baby was born, the day of the wedding. Every day she cried and ruined her mascara and lied when people asked her what was wrong, saying that it was just some allergies. When he got engaged, it made sense for her to cry. They had only been broken up for five months, and he was already down on one knee for another girl? That was suspicious, and it made sense for Melody to be upset. But breakups are supposed to have a half-life, and all things considered, Thomas and Melody weren't together for that long. After the engagement, it shouldn't have stung as much as it did.
Maybe that's why people were so willing to believe she had kidnapped that baby. Only a crazy person would still be that broken up about their ex so long after they had ended things, no matter how badly he had ended it. And Melody was crazy, there was no hiding that. So of course it was possible she would take the baby, to hurt both him and the rebound girl.
But Melody never wanted to hurt the other girl. Her problem was with Thomas. She had loved him once, after all. She knew exactly how easily he could worm his way into one's heart. And of course she didn't blame the baby at all. Of course the baby was evidence of their much-too-fast union, but it was just a baby. She could almost love it, the way it looked curiously into her eyes as she held it. It clearly had its father's face, but it had its mother's eyes. It was a beautiful little thing.
Then there were the sirens, and then cold handcuffs were getting snapped onto her wrists. The baby's mother was hitting and scratching Melody and screaming with feral rage. Then Thomas was there at the jail, and he screamed at her as if she was the one who had done something wrong.
"You crazy, fucking psycho!" he yelled, slamming his hand against the metal bars.
"I didn't take that baby!" Melody screamed back to him.
"Yeah? Then why was she in your apartment?!"
Of course, that was the damning question, and the one that Melody didn't have a good answer to. The truth of the matter, no matter how much she didn't want to admit it, was that the baby had somehow gotten from Thomas's house to Melody's apartment. And that was reason enough for her to be arrested because that meant she took it.
But no matter what, Melody refused to say that it was because of Thomas. Truth be damned, Melody was happy to never see Thomas, that fucker, ever again. No matter how unhappy she was in life, she was well and overjoyed to never have to think of him again. But she also knew what Thomas could do. She remembered the day she told him about her issues. She remembered how scared she had been.
It was a warm summer night, and Thomas had been asking her out to dinner or movies for weeks. She would sometimes say yes, but she always stayed silent when he asked if she would be his girlfriend. Melody told him every time that it was her, not him. So he would ask what it was. Melody spent four days thinking about what she would tell Thomas. Her boss scolded her for falling behind on her work, since she spent fourteen hours a day thinking about Thomas and what she would say. That night, she asked Thomas to meet her at the docks, and they greeted each other as the sun was setting. Melody decided right then and there that Thomas's actions would determine what she did next. If he stared at the sunset to avoid looking at her or took his phone out of his pocket to take pictures out of the sun, she would stand up and leave without looking back once. But if he stayed and listened, she would consider a future with him in it.
"Hey," he said, smiling at him. His teeth were Hollywood-star perfect, and they were what made her look up at him the second time they ran into each other. His brown eyes were soft and welcoming. He was pretty, and Melody would be lying if her mind didn't stray to him every once in a while.
"Hi."
He gestured toward one of the benches on the dock, and she sat down. Thomas sat down about six inches away. Close, but not that close. He kept his eyes on her, despite the brilliant sunset. "So what did you want to talk about?"
Melody had written up a script of what she wanted to say. It was edited to perfection, and she had every intention of following it up until that moment. But staring into Thomas's eyes, she forgot every word of the whole speech.
"I don't know if we can be together," she started with and winced at the word choice.
He reeled back a bit, as if stung, so Melody continued speaking.
"I have bipolar disorder. I know that makes me sound like I'm crazy or whatever. But I'm not. I just have mood swings a lot and I need some time to calm down pretty often. I also drink a lot, but I'm working on it."
This last part was kind of a lie. When it came to "working" on alcoholism, most people imagined going to rehab or attending Alcoholics Anonymous or Sobriety Circle. Melody wasn't willing to do that, and she wasn't sure she ever would be. Her version of working on it was avoiding places where she could be tempted. She changed her daily commute so she wouldn't walk by a liquor store and she bought her groceries online where she couldn't accidentally step into the liquor section. And she talked to her therapist. Her therapist obviously suggested joining Sobriety Circle, but always reminded Melody that she could do it all at her own pace.
"And I won't lie to you, I'm not handling it the best. I was okay before, but my dad was killed when I was in college."
If there was ever a time for Melody to run, it was now. And Melody could see that Thomas was running through the options in his mind. He was considering if she was worth the possibility of the craziness that could happen. Melody didn't know if She was worth the hassle of the craziness that could ensue.
But Thomas was still looking at her. He wasn't looking at the stunningly brilliant sunset, or the seagulls crying in the air, or the people walking by admiring the scenery.
"Okay," he said slowly with an exhale. Melody wondered what he was going to say next. Was he going to ask if she had spent time in a psych ward? If she was taking medication? More than one person had asked her that when she told them about her bipolar disorder— 'Don't they make medications for that?'
"Are you feeling okay now?" Thomas said instead.
Melody had not been expecting that. "What?"
He laughed nervously. "I mean, I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for. If you don't feel ready for anything major, that's okay. Or not major. I can wait, you know."
Melody blinked, then blinked again.
"You're just so cool, you know? You're wicked smart, you have a great job, and you're the most beautiful girl in Chicago."
Later on that night, Melody would laugh at the exaggeration, but for now, she was stunned into silence.
"If you need some time, that's totally cool. But I can help you, if you need to. Anything you need, whenever."
Thomas could have done the evilest things at that moment. He could have tripped a child chasing after a kite, and Melody still would have been smitten with him.
"You mean it?" she asked, her voice soft and breathy.
He nodded, still looking right into her eyes.
As an answer, Melody leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
The fucker, Melody thought as she looked out Puzzle's window. That lying bastard. That cheating, lying bastard. She was trembling now, as the sirens got closer and closer. Even if they weren't for Versailles, they had to be going somewhere close by. But she had a pretty good feeling they were coming to the house.
"Shit, shit, shit," Puzzle muttered from the bed. She was hugging her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth. Whatever connection she had to sirens must be even worse than Melody's. Then Melody remembered, Puzzle was in for homicide.
"Puzzle," Melody said. Puzzle didn't react at all. "Puzzle!" she said louder. Finally, she leaned in closer and shouted. "Lourdes!"
Puzzle jumped and looked at Melody with shiny eyes.
"Pull it together!" Melody yelled.
Puzzle swallowed, her Adam's apple bobbing in her throat, but she nodded. "Okay, okay. Are they coming here?"
Melody looked back at the window. "I think so."
"Shit!"
"What the hell is going on?!" Melody asked. She knew Puzzle didn't know the answer, but it felt nice to ask questions. You can take the reporter from journalism, but you can't take the journalism from the reporter.
"Do you think it's because of Colt?" Puzzle asked. She was twisting and cracking her fingers nervously. Normally, Melody would find that disgusting, but now she couldn't really be bothered to give a damn.
"No idea. Colt wouldn't do anything, right?" She didn't want to entertain the idea of Colt hurting anyone. He was too gentle of a person. But she also had to remember that he was big and strong and had military training. Plus, who knew who could appear if he was stressed out? Maria wasn't likely to hurt anyone, but was Zac? One of them had hurt someone once. Were they going to do it again?
"I wish we could see what was happening," Melody thought aloud. Puzzle nodded and crawled off her bed, and joined Melody at the window. The sirens got louder and louder, and Melody fought off the memories. Then Melody saw the lights, flashing red and blue. She knew they were coming, but even still, they made her flinch. The police car and ambulance sped down the road toward the mansion.
"An ambulance?" Melody said.
"Dios mío," Puzzle whispered. She crossed herself, fingers brushing against each shoulder and her forehead. Melody didn't want to entertain the possibility that someone had been seriously hurt, so she tried to ignore the crossing.
"They're going to close this place down," Puzzle said. "I can't— I can't go to the State place. I can't. They— they—" her voice trailed off into breathy, quick gasps for air. She was panicking. Melody felt her heart start to beat wildly. No, she couldn't start panicking, too. That wouldn't help anything or anybody.
"Stop it, Puzzle," Melody said. "You're going to hyperventilate." Melody cursed herself for saying it. She always hated it when people just told her to "just calm down!" But Melody didn't know what else to say.
Puzzle's eyes were wide and glanced wildly around the room. She made a motion like she wanted to hug herself, but then quickly changed and started scratching at her arms with her nails. The first few swipes left angry red marks across her forearms. Melody watched with morbid fascination at first, then grabbed Puzzle's wrists. Puzzle jerked, trying to break out of the hold.
"Stop it now!' Melody yelled, and to her surprise, Puzzle stopped fighting and looked at Melody. 'Tell me about Gracia."
Puzzle looked confused. A question formed on her lips, but Melody shook her head. "Anything. Tell me about Gracia."
"She was better than me," Puzzle said quickly.
"Better at what?"
"Better at living."
"How?"
Puzzle took a long, deep breath. Melody counted in her head. Inhale for eight, hold for eight, exhale for eight. It was a routine Melody knew well, and she found herself breathing along with her. The artificially warm air felt dry and hurt her lungs. She couldn't wait for true spring air.
"She wanted to be alive," Puzzle said. She was breathing in oxygen like it was a drug. "She," Puzzle gasped, "she was happy."
"And you were never happy?"
Puzzle seems stunned by the question. "Uh."
"Tell me a time you were happy."
Puzzle thinks about it for a long time. Outside, the sirens got closer and the lights ripped through the air like pieces of glass through a tapestry.
"Christmas. When I was ten. Gracia and I each got bicycles. We were so excited to go into the living room and see them there. One was blue, for me, and one was pink, for her. We didn't even want to open the other presents because we were so excited to go and ride them. So my dad grabbed our coats and we went outside to ride them on the streets. But the sidewalks were covered in ice and my bike slipped and I fell." Puzzle let out a teary, small laugh. "I didn't even really get hurt. But Gracia freaked out. She started crying and screaming. Eventually, Papi had to comfort her because she was crying and I was laughing. Papi said that twins can sometimes feel the other's pain, which made me feel bad, but it was pretty funny at the time."
Puzzle had a faint smile on her face. It was nice to see, even though the sirens made Melody want to scream. The light was now coming through the window, throwing the colors across the walls. A muffled yelling came from somewhere below them, and Melody frowned and looked out the window. Doctor Riley was running out of the front door of the house, yelling and waving her arms as the ambulance rolled up.
"What fresh hell is this?" Melody asked.
The ambulance and cop car stopped, but Doctor Riley continued yelling, pointing at the truck and then at the building and back at the truck. Then, suddenly, the siren was silenced and the lights turned off.
"Oh."
"Do you always think out loud so much?" Puzzle asked.
Melody considered it. "Yeah, but usually, no one else hears it."
Puzzled sniffled. "Oh. I don't mind it. It's just a little weird."
Melody wondered if she should point out the hypocrisy in that, but she just playfully rolled her eyes.
Two young EMTs in blue outfits ran out of the ambulance and went to the back. They threw open the doors and pulled out a gurney. A cop got out of his car and gazed up at the house like it was a zoo. He was middle-aged, balding, and held himself in a confident and self-assured manner. As he scanned the building, he and Melody locked eyes. He looked startled and took a step back. Melody narrowed her eyes. Clearly, he hadn't expected anyone lucid to be actually paying attention to what was happening around them. He immediately dropped eye contact and ducked into his car to turn it off.
The EMTs ran into the house with the gurney, followed by Doctor Riley. "What are they doing with that?" Puzzle said.
Melody shook her head. "No idea. I wish we could find out what's going on."
"If someone attacked someone, this place is going to get shut down," Puzzle said. She was calm now, despite how heavy her words were. Her eyes were dull as she stared out the window at the cop, who was now wandering around to look at the grounds. "The grant and inheritance aren't enough to keep it open without government assistance, and they're going to say that we're too dangerous to not live behind actual bars. You're from Chicago, right?"
Melody nodded.
"Cook County Jail for you, then, huh?"
"It's a good thing I know all the words to 'Cell Block Tango,'" Melody muttered.
"I hope they'll send me to Jersey," Puzzle said. "I've always liked it there." She closed her eyes. "Who am I kidding? I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay here. I like it here."
"I do, too." This statement surprised Melody even as she said it. Did she like it at Versailles? Would she choose to stay there if she had a choice? She had only been there a little while and it already felt like an eternity. Her memories of life before the incident with the baby ebbed and flowed like memories from a long time ago. Even her memory of her father's face seemed glitchy. Did he really have those wrinkles by his eyes, or that scar on his cheek? Did he really smile as much as she remembered? For the first time, a bolt of panic hit Melody. Did she really remember her father, or had she just created some fictional version of him?
Before Melody could stew on that thought for long, she and Puzzle turned at the sound of loud, frantic footsteps on the stairs. "They're coming upstairs," she said.
It took a second too long, but then Puzzle and Melody locked eyes. "Jordan," they said together.
Puzzle walked backward, stunned, until the backs of her legs hit the bed, and then she sat down. Her eyes were wide and dazed. Melody blinked, unsure of what to do. Then, before she even thought about her, she raised her eyes and saw the vent above the bed. It was the same size as the vent in Key's room— that is, large enough to fit into. Melody jumped on the bed, shoving Puzzle aside. Puzzle blinked up in confusion at her as Melody ran her hands over the screws in the vents. She wished she had paid more attention to how Key's vent had been unscrewed. If she could get inside the vent, she would be able to hear better. But such as it was, she could make out quiet voices. She took in a deep breath and held it. The vent was
"What are you doing?" Puzzle asked.
Melody shushed her.
Behind her, she heard Puzzle shuffle to her feet and felt the mattress shift as she stepped toward the vent. Melody listened more closely. Deep, male voices were coming through. "They're definitely up here," she said.
"I guess Jordan's okay," Puzzle replied.
Melody looked at her. "How do you know?"
Puzzle shrugged. "One, they wouldn't still be here if she wasn't. Two, I can hear her talking."
Melody blinked. She couldn't hear Jordan, and she thought she had a good ear. "Right. So what does this mean?"
Puzzle shrugged. "No idea. I hear her mom is rich. Hope she has good health insurance. Although, I wonder how well that transfers over state lines."
Melody turned her head to stare at Puzzle.
"What?" Puzzle asked.
"Dude."
"Ambulances are expensive!"
"Yeah, but," Melody trailed off. "You're so weird."
"That isn't the first time I've been told that."
Melody took in Puzzle's appearance. From the disheveled hair to the dark circles under her eyes, Puzzle looked tired. And it was the tired Melody knew, the kind of exhaustion that keeps someone in their bed for days upon days, wondering what day it was and memorizing the patterns on the ceiling above them. But there was some sort of hope in her.
"What does your name mean?" Melody asked suddenly.
Puzzle looked confused. "What, Puzzle?"
"No, Lourdes."
"Oh," Puzzle still seemed a little confused by the change in topic. "It's a town in France. Some people say Mary appeared to Saint Bernadette when she was a little girl."
Melody nodded. "It's a nice name. Why don't you use it?"
It was quiet now. There were no sirens or screaming coming through the walls. Without those or the piano playing downstairs, it was almost uncomfortably quiet, and Melody felt the need to fill the electric air with something.
Puzzle shrugged. "Gracia called me that," she said. "We used to do these crossword puzzles together, and I used to always know the answer to every question. She didn't know why, so she said I was a puzzle. At some point, the name just stuck."
"What happened to Gracia?"
Puzzle reeled back, taking a step back, dangerously close to the edge of the mattress. She caught herself, though, and lowered herself gracefully to the floor. "What do you think happened to her?" she hissed out.
Melody flinched at the bitterness in Puzzle's voice. "I didn't— I don't—"
"I killed her."
Without any warning, the door to the room buzzed and opened. Jim was standing behind the door and he opened his mouth to say something, but Puzzle spun around and ran out the door, shoving him aside before he could do anything.
"What happened?" Jim asked.
A loud, painful laugh burst out of Melody's mouth. "Wait, you're asking me?!"