Page 67 of Promise Me Never

“That was smart. You must have planned things brilliantly to get away with it all this time. So the insulin Devon left. You forgot to get rid of that.”

Her mouth twitched, then turned downward. “I never knew she was diabetic. I got rid of everything else. Each time I left their engagement ring on the bathroom sink for him to find. He didn’t love any of them. He doesn’t love you. That’s why he kept recycling the engagement ring.”

She put her finger on the trigger of the revolver. “And now, in the spirit of tying up loose ends.”

Savannah squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself. She was leaving nothing behind. Her pathetic life hadn’t amounted to anything. She heard her mom’s voice in her head telling her how worthless she was, how insignificant. And now her mother would be proven right.

Isabel laughed. “Oh, relax. I’m not going to shoot you. Pick up your notebook and pen. You’re going to write your husband a letter. Three texts is one too many.”

“Why?”

“You’re leaving him. You found out he’s a killer, and you’re going into hiding.”

Savannah had to think. If she wrote the letter, what was stopping Isabel from killing her and then throwing her body in the well with the others? She gave Isabel a defiant look. “No. I won’t do it. Go ahead and shoot me. You’ll have a lot of explaining to do with a dead body in the house and your fingerprints everywhere.”

Isabel laughed again. “You think you’re so smart. Is that your little writer’s brain trying to work through all the plot holes? I will shoot you if you don’t. And here’s what I’ll tell the police. I showed you the evidence. You didn’t want your precious, rich husband to go to jail. So you pulled your gun on me and tried to kill me. I shot you in self-defense.”

Savannah knew that Isabel wouldn’t hesitate to do it. “What do you want me to say?”

“Get the paper and I’ll tell you.” Isabel kept the gun trained on Savannah as she moved to the nightstand and pulled out a pad and pen. She sat back down on the bed. Isabel began to dictate.

Dear Bennett,

I know what you did. Those poor women. I found their phones in your office. You’re a cold-blooded murderer. I’ve given all the evidence to Isabel. I’m leaving you and I’m going into hiding until you’re arrested and behind bars. I won’t be your next victim. I hope you rot in jail.

Savannah

Savannah finished writing and looked at Isabel. “Now what?”

Isabel pulled something else from her purse. A syringe. Before Savannah realized what was happening, Isabel plunged it into her arm.

“Now we go to the farm.”

| Sixty-Eight |

Savannah

Savannah was disoriented. Where was she? She opened her eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room. It was dark, the only light the illumination from the moon. She got up, stumbled to the door, and flipped on the overhead light. She tried to turn the knob, but the door was locked, apparently from the outside. She was in a bedroom, but whose? Then she remembered. Isabel. Sticking her with some kind of drug. She said they were going to the farm. Walking over to the window, she looked out. She couldn’t see much except the moon shimmering on the snow-covered ground. There were no other houses in sight. What time was it? There was no clock in the room, and Isabel must have taken her phone. She had to think. Yesterday. It had been early afternoon when Isabel came at her with that needle. That was the last thing she remembered. She had no idea how far from Bedford they had traveled. Whatever Isabel had injected her with must have knocked her out for a while.

She had to get out of here, but how? She opened the window and the freezing air blew in. She was up too high to jump, and there was nothing to climb on. The sound of the door opening made her start. She turned around.

“I see you’re finally awake.”

“Isabel, you have to let me go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Savannah. You know too much.”

She was pointing the gun at her. “Let’s go downstairs.”

Savannah didn’t move.

Isabel extended her arm straight out. “Don’t make me do it, Savannah. There’s an easier way. Now move! Down the steps, I’ll follow behind.”

Savannah played scenarios out in her mind. She had to try to get the gun away from her. But if she wasn’t quick enough, Isabel would shoot her, of that she had no doubt. She walked toward the door and down the steep wooden stairs.

“Stop.”

Isabel came halfway down, still far enough away that Savannah couldn’t reach her, but she could shoot Savannah.