Page 2 of Connal

I shouldn’t have trusted him.

Dale had been twelve years older than her, so it was natural for Valerie to blame his erratic behavior on a mid-life crisis. It seemed to begin when he’d started losing his hair, so much so that he’d abruptly shaved his head. Fortunately with his big brown eyes and Adonis good looks he’d seemed even more handsome bald, like a Greek statue. He’d always worked out and jogged, but suddenly he was exercising twice as much as before. On weekends he began disappearing for hours, sometimes all day, and yet when she asked him where he’d gone he’d claimed he’d just been out driving around town.

Things went from puzzling to frustrating for her, but Dale kept insisting nothing was wrong.

Their sex life had dwindled away from regular to infrequent, and then six months before his death her husband had started sleeping in their spare room. Valerie had always gone to bed early, and Dale had claimed it was so he wouldn’t disturb her when he came home late from work, which at the time was basically every night. Now she suspected he had been too tired to make love with her while he was sleeping with Candy.

He was probably planning to buy a sports car, get hair transplants and set up a bachelor pad, too.

The hardest revelation to deal with had been two days after the suicide, when Valerie had stopped by the bank to transfer funds from her own savings account to pay for the funeral. For years she had been saving her own money so she could take a year off once they had a baby. Dale had never contributed anything to it, but he had been a co-signer. Two months before he died he’d withdrawn all the money and closed her account.

Valerie never found any trace of the forty thousand dollars he’d taken.

Now looking out at the lake where Dale had died, Valerie still wrestled with confusion. She had never once cheated on him, threatened to divorce him or even imagined her future without him. She knew their romance had cooled off considerably, but most everyone’s did over time. She had invested all of her adult life in her relationship, and until the last six months before his suicide, had considered it successful.

How could I have been so wrong about us?

Glancing down at the single flower she had brought with her made a deeper pang of sorrow well up inside her. White roses had been Dale’s first gift to her, and she’d carried a bouquet of them at their simple, elegant wedding. It seemed fitting to end things the same way they’d started, and her therapist had recommended performing this ritual for closure. She picked up the bloom, holding it to her nose to breathe in its delicate fragrance. Climbing out of the car, she walked over to the guard rail.

February’s chill seeped through the thin fabric of her blouse, and a tendril of wind teased the hem of her skirt. Every step she took made her steadier, which seemed odd, for she’d never before had the courage to do this. Standing in the same spot where Dale had jumped into the lake, she looked up at the stars, and then closed her eyes for a moment.

Tell him the truth.

“I love you,” Valerie said, and then looked down at the water. “I still don’t understand why you did this, but I’ve finally accepted the fact that I’ll never know. I can’t stay here and bury myself in the remains of our life together. I’m going to sell the house and resign from my job as soon as the school year ends. I think I’ll go south and look for someplace warm and bright where I can start over.” She smiled a little. “Maybe even Florida.”

Moving to Florida had been a long-running inside joke between them; a way to end arguments with a laugh. That, too, seemed to be the right thing to say now.

The wind plucked the rose from her loose hold, and Valerie watched it fall into the water. It didn’t sink but floated on the shimmering surface and drifted away. Taking a deep breath, she went back to the car and got in. Nothing would change until she let go of the man she’d loved, and this seemed like she’d said a real goodbye. From here she simply had to build a new life and learn to like herself again.

I never wanted him dead. Even if I’d known about the affair, I would never want that––and he had to know. This was his choice, not mine.

As Valerie put on her seatbelt and started the engine, a sudden glare of high-beam headlights blinded her. The vehicle seemed to be in her lane, on the wrong side of the bridge. She squinted in the direction of the oncoming car, and saw it was a huge red pick-up truck coming toward her. The sound of its powerful engine revved as the driver increased their speed.

Just before the truck slammed into her car, Valerie saw the driver’s face. The pale smear of Candace Wilcox’s features appeared twisted with rage.

The collision seemed as if a train had plowed into her little compact. Metal buckled and screamed, and glass exploded over her a split second before the airbag hit her face. At the same time something wrenched her up into the air, and then the car smashed through the guardrail and plummeted over the side of the bridge.

Everything seemed to slow down as Valerie and the car dropped, and then came the second, slamming impact. The water that had looked so lovely and peaceful fountained and churned, flooding in through the shattered windshield and shocking her with its cold, wet force. Bubbles burst from her mouth and nose as she brought up her arms, trying to push the airbag out of her face so she could release her seatbelt. Her hands shook and she couldn’t breathe at all.

Don’t panic. Get out of the car. Swim to shore.

Water quickly filled the car, but when Valerie finally got hold of her seatbelt clip she couldn’t release it. Belatedly she remembered if the belt jerked too hard the clip became jammed, and she’d meant to have it replaced. As lake water covered her face she pressed the clip frantically, her fingers growing numb and clumsy. Her lungs burned, and from the increasing pressure in her ears the car had to be sinking to the bottom of the lake now. She knew she would soon lose consciousness from lack of oxygen, and then a few minutes later her lungs would fill and her heart would stop. Candy’s revenge would be complete.

She got even by making me die the way Dale did.

Valerie stopped struggling with the clip, and pushed the deflating airbag away from her. Her purse bobbed against the ceiling liner, and she tugged it down and looped the strap over her head; her wallet would make it easy for the responders to identify her.

Why am I being so calm about this? I’m going to die.

Inexplicably the white rose floated in through the shattered window and hung in front of her face. Something shiny glittered at the bottom of the stem, and when she took hold of it she realized it was an old silver ring with a strange pale stone that flashed with blue and green glints. More of the colorful sparkles spread out in front of her face as she removed the ring from the stem, and pushed it onto her finger. It fit as if it belonged to her.

Do you wish live? a soft, soothing female voice whispered in her ears.

I’m hallucinating, she told herself, even as she looked around the car. There’s no one here. I’m drowning.

You are, the voice agreed, and now it sounded deeper, like a man’s voice. Do you wish live?

Everything in Valerie answered that with a fierce, emphatic Yes.