At every turn, it appeared Oliver was precisely the man I needed in my life. He wasn’t the monster Danielle had made him out to be; he was someone who cared about me deeply. He cared about my family. We were embarking on this new life together, and nothing would stopus.
As I was getting undressed, I sifted through my jewelry box, looking for the sapphire and diamond necklace Marmee had mentioned earlier. As expected, it wasn’t there. I’d always been good about returning her accessories, but with the whirlwind of the past few months, it could have slipped my mind.
I started sorting through the closet, seeing if I’d left it inside the zipper compartment of an old suitcase, when a nondescript black backpack fell from the top shelf, something of Oliver’s I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen. The backpack was unzipped, sending the contents scattering across thefloor. I stuffed everything back into the bag: a change of clothes, an overnight toiletries bag, old gym sneakers.
When I got to the final item—a clear Ziploc bag—I froze.
A strange heat rose throughout my body. In the distance, I heard the pattering of shower water, the gentle hum of Oliver’s singing.
With shaking fingers, I picked up the Ziploc bag, examining the contents.
A vial of insulin medication. A four-pack of medical syringes.
And there were only three inside.
25
Friday: The Night of the Party
The breeze rustles myhair on the drive back, the rumbling of the cart’s engine in competition with whistling crickets and whining cicadas. Ava and Damien remain quiet. Perhaps calling the police, knowing help is on the way, has ushered in a sense of calm. Resolution. This nightmare is almost over.
I, on the other hand, feel like it will never end. Opal’s tarot reading flashes through my mind again: skeletons and fire and death, past intermingling with the present, an unshakable premonition of more destruction to come. Oliver’s messages must mean something, must serve some purpose, and I can’t stop thinking that they’re somehow connected to what happened to Marlowe.
The open gates at the estate’s entrance unsettle me. Maybe there is someone else on the property after all, someone besides the six of us cooped up inside the house. The idea shivers through me, prompting me to scan the darkened landscape.
“There’s a lake nearby,” Damien says. He’s practically yelling so I can hear him over the engine.
“What about it?”
“If we can’t leave by car, maybe we could take a boat.”
“It’s really more of a pond,” I say, that same shiver spreading throughout my body. “We won’t get very far.”
“Might be worth a try,” Damien says. “I mean, better than sitting here waiting.”
I glance over my shoulder to find Damien staring at me. Startled, I yank the steering wheel to keep the cart from careening into the grass. Ava grips the canopy overhead and grunts as I weave back onto the road. I can still feel his eyes studying me, as if he’s watching for my reaction to his brilliant idea. Why would he even mention the pond? We haven’t passed it, and even if we did, it’s so dark he wouldn’t see it.
“If you want to spend the rest of the night rowing, have at it,” I say. “The police told us to stay put.”
Brakes screech as I put the cart into park beneath the stone awning. I stand immediately, desperate to get back inside. Damien remains seated, staring at the crow fountain beside us.
“That’s an odd choice for decoration,” he says, staring at the murder of crows climbing into the sky.
“My grandmother has always liked them,” I say. “Birds and flowers. Those are her favorites.”
“Crows symbolize death,” Damien continues. His comment is irritating. Probing.
“In some cultures, they represent good luck,” Ava counters. She’s still seated, too, staring off into the darkness with helpless eyes.
“What culture is that?” Damien asks, but his question is interrupted by a stream of light bursting from the open front door. Preston appears.
“I need you guys inside,” he says, the ends of his hair protruding as though he’s been pulling at it. “Constance is freaking out.”
“What do you mean?” I say.
“She keeps crying, and she’s breathing all heavy. I mean, she’s not due to have the baby this soon, right?”
“Not until July,” Ava says, stepping off the cart.
