Page 52 of The Woman I’ve Become

“Did you notice what sort of car he drove?” Relevant details, yes. I need any of those she may recall.

“A black Jeep. You know, a Jeep like you take into the mountains and on rugged trails. Not the luxury vehicles or the trucks.”

Acacia appears with a towel. She looks from Helen, all wrapped up in the throw, to me. “Sorry, I had to use the bathroom.”

I turn to her, work extra hard to keep my face clean of the blast of anger that burns away all else. She cannot know that I overheard her on the phone with Phillip until I’m ready to confront her. She cannot know anything else, by God. “Would you run upstairs and get Helen a pair of my sweats?”

Acacia hesitates before going to do as I ask. She rushes up the stairs, but then her steps slow. She’s listening. Good.

I look to Helen once more. “What was this man’s warning?”

“He said to tell you the end of this is coming. When I asked him what on earth that meant, he said you would know.”

The words hang in the air, making adrenaline fire in my veins. I imagine Acacia fumbling with her phone even now to notify her partner or partners. Oh yes. I know exactly what the man who visited Helen meant.

Except he was a bit off with the wording I instructed him to use.

The end is already here.

22

I watch Helen hurry through the rain to her SUV. I close the door and turn to Acacia, who is hovering behind me. She looks uneasy, uncertain, maybe even a little scared. Good. My little distraction has worked exactly as I hoped.

“What should we do?” She stares at me for a moment. “Aren’t you going to lock the door?”

Oh yes, definitely unsettled.

I lock the door and set the alarm. “What do you mean ‘what should we do?’” I know exactly what she means, but I want her to spell it out. There’s something cathartic about watching the other side squirm. Turnabout is fair play, after all.

“She said some guy came to her house with a message for you. Should we be worried?”

So she was listening. I knew she would.

“Yes,” I say. We would be stupid not to be concerned after receiving such a cryptic message from a stranger. Particularly after the Times article and Phillip’s odd behavior—according to Acacia—and we can’t leave Rick out of the lineup of suspicious activity.

We should be terrified. I almost smile but, of course, that would not be the proper response. Instead, I hug my arms around myself as if I’m suddenly chilled and manufacture my own anxious expression.

She moves closer now, her face a study in concern. “Do we have a weapon we can use to protect ourselves?”

I shrug, no matter that the move aches through my right shoulder. “You know Phillip hates guns.”

She nods, distracted by whatever thoughts are racing through her head. “We should do something.” Her gaze meets mine. “We can’t just sit around waiting for some random psycho to show up at the door. Can we call Rick?”

“What we should do,” I argue, moving away from the door, “is make sure all the windows and doors are locked. We can close all the shutters when it gets dark, so no one can see inside.”

Acacia gestures to the water around my feet. I completely forgot about it.

“I’ll clean this up first,” she offers.

“Thanks. I’ll check upstairs. You can do the same down here.”

“Right.” She nods, clearly distracted. “Good idea.”

I head upstairs. I don’t have to look back to know she’ll be texting whoever she’s working with for further instructions. This turn of events is one they will not have anticipated. Chalk another one up for me. Since I hired the stranger to stand outside my home in Manhattan and watch us, and then to show up at Helen’s with a menacing warning, I’ve hopefully shaken them up a little. Let them sweat. Poor Acacia. She jumped at the opportunity to suggest the trouble could be coming from Casey Duval, and now she’s wondering if he’s here and an actual complication.

I smile. Never underestimate a woman who has already been to hell and back.

The windows in my room and Olivia’s are locked. I didn’t doubt this, but I checked nonetheless. I go ahead and close the shutters on this level. At the top of the stairs, I listen for Acacia. Sounds like she’s doing something in the kitchen. Good. I head to the room she uses. This is the perfect chance to have a look. Somehow I doubt she will have left anything for me to find; she seems smarter than that. But a quick check can’t hurt.