Page 53 of The Woman I’ve Become

When I enter the room, my mind instantly goes back to when I was seventeen and how badly I wanted to escape my life. Maybe that’s part of the reason we never redecorated this room. I needed to remind myself of just how badly I screwed up back then. How trust made me a fool . . . how friendship cost me far more than a seventeen-year-old girl could possibly have imagined.

Kicking the past aside, I check the windows first. Locked. Then I go to the closet. A few of Acacia’s shirts hang there. A pair of boots on the floor draws my attention. I examine the inside of each and find nothing. Then I move on to the dresser. The drawers are all empty save two. Slinky lingerie and a couple of pairs of jeans are stored there. A quick check of the pockets confirms they’re empty. A look in the bedside table drawers reveals only her cosmetics bag and a few toiletries. Nothing under the pillows or the bed.

I take one last lingering look around before walking out.

Downstairs, Acacia has prepared lunch. Chicken-salad sandwiches and lemon water. I slide onto a stool at the island, and she places a plate in front of me.

“Thanks.” I stare at my favorite multigrain bread from Balducci’s and the delicious chicken salad they make like no one else . . . but I cannot eat. Acacia could have put anything in the food. If I had known she was making lunch, I could have told her I preferred to make my own.

“Everything okay upstairs?”

I meet her expectant gaze. “All good. Down here?”

She settles on a stool opposite me. “Yes.” She glances out the window. “The rain is slowing down a little.”

“Good.” Then I stare at my plate once more. But I can’t eat. To be honest, this isn’t exactly the way I thought an attempt to take me down would go. Many times I wondered how it would happen when the time came. I imagined all sorts of scenarios. Unexpectedly being dragged into a dark alley. A visit from a murderous stranger when I was home alone. The delivery of some sort of poison that would disable me the instant I touched it. I waited and waited, but nothing ever happened.

Now it seems the trouble is near, and the waiting is almost over.

There is one surprise that I didn’t quite expect. Phillip. I still don’t want to believe he’s involved—at least not with this. Perhaps an affair while I was out of commission. No doubt Acacia found him very persuasive. Just ask any of his past conquests. He promises much and, in the end, delivers little because he will never risk abandoning his family. That sort of thing never looks good. He is the perfect politician. I am stunned he didn’t jump into the fray of that circus long ago.

Except it’s becoming harder and harder to remain so certain of him.

Acacia definitely fits his preferred type. Young. Very attractive, with her dark hair and gold eyes. I study her now, recalling the first time we met, when I was still too weak to get out of bed on my own. Lovely cheekbones and a slender neck that her hair is just long enough to curl around. So anxious to please and be helpful. So seemingly oblivious to Phillip.

Except that last part was apparently just for my benefit.

I wonder how her boyfriend likes knowing what she does.

“What?” Acacia puts down the sandwich she has just taken a bite from, then chews as she waits for my response.

“Nothing,” I say with just enough nonchalance to make her eyes narrow. To add insult to injury, I push my plate away.

She glances at my abandoned sandwich, then at me. “Why aren’t you eating? You must be hungry.”

Not really. Why not cut straight to the point? No need to put this off. We’re alone. We’ve reached a certain point—one where I have confirmed all I need to. Let the chips fall where they may. We are both beyond pretending who and what she is. “I heard you on the phone.”

She rearranges her face into a big frown, but the surprise is clear in her eyes. She knows what I mean. “What are you talking about?”

“When you were supposed to be getting the towel for Helen. I heard you in the kitchen whispering to Phillip. Did he put you up to drug me?” Anger and something too much like disappointment swells inside me. I have no idea why I would have allowed myself to count so fully on him. “You told me about the necklace; why would you keep this other part from me?”

More surprise sparks, but Acacia conceals it quickly. “He just wants to ensure you react the way you’re supposed to.” She picks at her sandwich. “You know, to finding the necklace. He wants you hysterical and paranoid and sleeping too much.” She shrugs. “To show you’re unbalanced and in need of long-term care in some facility he’s talked about.”

“The man is never anything less than thorough.” I can’t quite curb the anger that ignites, so I shove the plate farther across the counter in her direction. Hope it goes over the edge so she has to clean it up. “You have no qualms about this?”

She picks up her napkin and wipes her hands. “I knew it wasn’t right, but I was afraid not to do as he told me. I need this job.”

How convenient it would be to believe her sad story, but I don’t. “What did you give me?”

“After the way you were acting all paranoid the other night,” she explains, her face a study in regret, “I added some Valium to help you relax. You had a prescription for it, but you hadn’t taken it. He told me to use that if you got too weird.”

Well, that explains my eighteen or so hours of sleep. “If I had wanted to take the Valium, I would have.”

“I’m sorry,” she whines. “I just followed his orders.”

“Did you tell him everything I’ve shared with you?”

I haven’t shared anything actually important, but I told her more than I should have. Of course, it would be her word against mine if it came down to it.