Page 19 of The Woman I’ve Become

I struggle not to sigh. “You’ve seen the Times article, I’m sure.”

Everyone who knows me and plenty of others I’m confident have seen it. Millions of people, no doubt. It’s impossible that she doesn’t know.

“I did, yes. It’s a horrible travesty that such lies are printed as truth.”

I sink onto the sofa, hug my damaged body in an attempt to calm the pain and to slow the jittering. “It is. Anyway, whoever is responsible could be watching me. Watching the places I live. It’s very important that I know anyone who came onto the property for anything at all.”

“Of course. Of course. Let me think. There was the maintenance man who serviced the central heating and cooling system. But that was three weeks ago, and I followed his every step. He was never out of my sight. I’m aware how you feel about that.”

One of the specific duties for her position is that no one at all is allowed on the property without constant supervision.

“I make sure the cleaners go through each room together, so I can monitor every step they take. I’m very careful, ma’am. Very careful.”

“Okay, so no one else was here?” I feel deflated. Mostly because that can only mean that it was Acacia. Really, who else could it be? I don’t know her and don’t trust her, but it is disappointing, nonetheless. I can’t entirely discount Rick, but I also can’t see why he would do such a thing now. He’s had numerous opportunities in the past, and nothing like this has happened.

“There was the grocery delivery guy,” Helen says as if only just remembering. “He was new. I hadn’t seen him before.”

“This was when?” My pulse speeds up once more.

“Around lunchtime. As soon as you called saying you were coming, I set up a delivery.”

I launch to my feet, grimace and start to slowly pace. “How long was he here?”

“Twenty minutes or so, I’d say.”

“Did you take your eyes off him at any time?”

“I didn’t, no. Except . . .”

The silence echoing in my ear has me coming to a stop, waiting for the words that could prove the answer to this situation.

“I was putting the freezer items away.”

“You went into the pantry.” I say the words knowing this is the case since that’s where the freezer is. “He was in the kitchen, and you went into the pantry.”

“Yes, but—”

“Describe this man to me.” I start to pace once more. Back and forth in front of the fireplace. It’s a bit cool, and I wish there was a roaring fire. But I’m not sure anything would chase away this chill. It’s coming from deep inside me. All the way from the bone. It’s making me feel a little crazy. I tremble at this sudden loss of control. This is crazy.

“He was tall. Dark hair. I’m not sure about the eyes. Something light, I think. Maybe blue.”

My gut ties into a few more knots, but I ignore it. I really need to calm down. I’m completely overreacting. “How old, would you say?”

“I’m not very good at guessing ages, but I would say twenty-something.”

“Was there a time when you thought this delivery person had left but he hadn’t?” I manage to ask the question a bit more calmly. Good. Maybe this bizarre hysteria is fading.

The silence that follows tells me I’m on the mark with my last question.

“When . . . when I came out of the pantry,” Helen explains, “I thought he was gone, but then he appeared with more bags.”

“How long was he out of your sight?” I close my eyes and wish away the lingering sensation of having lost all semblance of control. More slow, deep breaths.

“I suppose from the time I entered the pantry until he popped back in with the last of the bags, five or six minutes at most. Are you sure you’re all right, Dr. Belmont?”

Plenty of time to rush up to my room and drop the necklace in that drawer, I estimate. But who hired him to do this? That’s the real question here.

When I can speak evenly, I say, “Thank you, Helen. I’m fine. I apologize for bothering you. I guess this whole situation has me on edge, and I overreacted.”