The police cuffed Camille and read her rights. They saw the blood in the fridge, and bagged the vials. They questioned Maya and Robert separately. The whole time, Maya was thinking about Camille’s blood on her pants.
Camille would definitely be locked up, right? There was no way she could coincidentally be tied to so very many murders, especially with the blood of those who’d done them stored in her home. She wouldn’t be free to hurt anyone again.
Unless Camille was right, and someone as cute as her could evade the system. Especially if the prosecutor did try to include the magic angle, and it flopped. Maya thought about all the men rotting in jail, all because Camille had deemed them disposable for her ends. It made Maya mad, especially when she thought of helpful, cordial Davis. What if Camille didn’t get locked up? She could keep ruining people’s lives. She might come after Maya.
Maya didn’t think so. But she’d also never believed Camille to be capable of hurting anyone.
She thought about the blood on her leg as Robert drove her back to her car. She thought about it as she drove home.
She could keep Camille from hurting anyone, if she wanted to.
Maya changed into sweatpants, and picked up her black slacks. Held the drying blood between her hands.
This blood is a gateway, she thought to herself, but without the force of will to use it.
Maya plugged her sink, set the pants in it, and poured bleach over them. She watched the ink fade out to a dull orange.
It’s not on me alone.