Page 45 of When the Night Comes Knocking

A full-body shiver runs through Sheila’s form as the officer opens her eyes. “It really was all your fault, wasn’t it?” she says, then swipes her tongue over the remaining blood shining on her lips. “Such a terrible accident. I can understand why your brother hates you.”

Move, a desperate, familiar voice shouts in Jane’s mind. You have to move.

But the office door remains locked and the exposed pipe on the wall behind her back digs through the oversize sweater, pinching into the skin and muscle. There is nowhere else to run, no covers to pull up over her head or music to blast out the noise of the truth that rings through her bones like a funeral march.

Sheila tightens her grip on Jane’s throat.

“But that’s not even the whole story, is it, Jane?” The talons prick through the skin. “You still aren’t being honest with yourself about the rest of that night.”

Jane struggles against her.

“I mean, my God, Jane. You got someone killed. You destroyed an entire family,” the officer continues in a light, airy tone. “Not to mention all the pain you’ve caused your own.”

Winnie yips and paws at the locked door as Jane cries out for help, but the taloned hand clamps down over her mouth. The warm brown of Sheila’s eyes has all but vanished, giving way to wholly black.

Sheila whistles, slow and impressed. “Truly, it’s amazing that you’re able to live with yourself. I bet others simply tolerate you left and right.”

Jane thrashes against the iron hold as the bones in Sheila’s face start to shift beneath the skin like insects crawling, searching for a way out. “Boys like Nate Whitmore are so self-righteous. They’d rather die than admit to their sins,” she says, though the words come out gurgled and distorted as Sheila’s mouth expands. “But not you, Jane. You wear your shame for the world to see, because you know what you are.”

She leans in closer, brushing her new teeth along Jane’s cheek. “You know it, deep down inside, that you and I are the same. You know you’re a monster too.”

As Jane tries to move again, Sheila shoves her head back until it connects hard with the wall. “Admit it,” she says. “Admit what’s really breaking you, Jane.”

Jane goes completely still, whimpering as the teeth begin to clamp down on her ear until she can feel the blood run hot down the side of her neck. “Tell me your guilt so your heart can finally be free,” Sheila whispers before her face morphs.

Winnie starts barking wildly, baring her teeth in a rabies-like fit, though the dog refuses to draw any closer. Jane squeezes her eyes shut, gagging at the Mimic’s foul breath, and then a hard thud lands against the door to the office.

A few seconds later the door bursts open, nearly breaking off its hinges. Winnie darts out the door as Thomas stumbles in, gripping his shoulder.

Jane feels the grip loosen around her throat as the Mimic turns and hisses at Thomas with a face that’s only half human. A blood rush of terror floods up through Jane’s heart to her brain, turning her muscles and bones to lead and making breath impossible to get enough of, until she wonders if this is what dying from fear feels like.

Bile sits trapped in her mouth with an endless scream, as the talons slide out farther from the creature’s other hand, tearing noisily through the knuckles of Sheila’s flesh.

Thomas holds up Kimi’s tiny pocketknife, eyes bulging. “Oh, fuck.”

As Jane’s vision blurs out of focus, she sees a glint of silver as the Mimic turns its torso.

Move.

Jane yanks off the pair of handcuffs from the utility belt before clamping a cuff down on the wrist at her neck, then the other to the exposed pipe behind her. She shoves off Sheila’s body from where it straddles her, hearing the clink of the metal cuffs catch against the pipe. Jane rolls away as the talons swipe out for her, scooting back and across the floor as the bones in Sheila’s body start to break and snap until gray shoulders burst through the police uniform.

The cuff breaks open in seconds.

“Come on!” Thomas shouts, pulling Jane out of the room as the Mimic screeches, half woman, half abomination.

They run down the back of the store as another screech unleashes from the office until heavy footsteps beat the ground behind them. Thomas steers them down an aisle, yelling something incoherent as the Mimic slides into a shelf, trying to pivot after them.

The voice is in the cadence of Sheila’s, distorted and bent out of shape. “Give it to me, Jane!” it hisses.

Jane glances back just as one of its long limbs swipes forward. The talons hook around Thomas’s ankle, and her brother goes down in a flash, grunting as he smacks against the floor.

“Tommy!”

She skids to a halt, falling down to her knees to reach for him as he’s dragged backward across the linoleum floors like a hooked fish. She grabs hold of his flailing left hand as what remains of Sheila’s sunken, rotting face begins sprouting more and more teeth.

Jane can do nothing but watch Thomas kick wildly at the creature, crying out as the talons sink farther into his skin. They give another hard yank, and this time he screams.

The surface of her palm is slick with sweat, slipping from Thomas’s until she only has hold of his fingers. Black spots pepper the edges of her eyes as she fights to hold on to him.