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I know Seth doesn’t believe me about how dangerous Tish is, but he still walks me out to the car. I also know he wants to kiss me, and I’m starting to think that might be a good idea, despite the fact I’m going back to college in the next couple of days.
“Thanks for calming me down this afternoon,” I say and reach for his hand. It’s dark outside, and crickets chirp like crazy.
“You’ve been through a lot,” he says. “I’m here for you. One of the benefits of going to Ohio State.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, and the next thing you know we share a heart-tingling kiss. I pull away. “Let’s take it slow. We’ve been friends forever.”
“You’re right.” He opens the door to my car. “Hey, this isn’t good. You left your door unlocked. Lock the doors. All the time. I’m worried about you.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, and I know he’s right. In my hurry to get inside his house, I forgot. I look around the front seat, and everything seems fine. “I’ll text when I get home.”
Seth stays at the curb as I drive away. I push my new confusing feelings for him away and focus on the drive, constantly looking in my rearview mirror. I don’t trust Tish, but I know I’m being paranoid andI’m imagining things. Seth is right. She’s crazy, but she’s not dangerous. I need to let it go.
As I pull onto Lane Avenue, my car starts freaking out. My fried emotions go into overdrive, and my hands shake on the wheel. What is happening? My dashboard has crazy lights everywhere. I’m going forty miles an hour, but my car isn’t responding to anything I do. I pump the brakes but nothing happens, the steering wheel won’t turn when I pull on it. Ahead is the highway and a huge intersection. On my right is a shopping mall parking lot. I use all of my strength to yank the steering wheel. I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch as I feel my car fly over the curb and crash into a parked car.
The last thing I remember is the sound of crunching metal, the airbag muffling my screams.
CHAPTER 43
KATE
I escort Bob into the family room, a place that used to be a refuge, but not anymore. Everything has shifted, nothing is as it seems. I need to focus. I shove the will, the real will, across the coffee table as we sit facing each other. I still don’t like the worried expression on his face. But I’m not backing down. Bob should know that by now.
“I know one thing for sure—the John I married, the John I built a company with, and the John who is the father of our daughter would never do this. He wouldn’t. This is his will. The only will.” I slap the paper with my hand for emphasis, and Bob jumps. “He never went to that notary. He never sat down with George Price. He would have used you to execute a new will.”
“I agree. There’s something I need to tell you.” He shakes his head and places the new will on the table. “This was filed with the state one week before John’s death.”
“What? Just a week before John died. What are you trying to say?” I ask, and pull my cardigan closed to fight a sudden chill.
“I think it’s suspicious. I mean they file a new will, they even added in a no-contest clause of all things. It’s buttoned up, and then, conveniently, John dies a sudden death a week later.” Bob stands and paces the room as my mind struggles to take in his words.
Oh my god. I place my hand over my heart and lean back into the couch. “What has she done?”
Bob stops pacing and stands in front of me. His suit is rumpled, his hair is, too, and there’s a dark five-o’clock shadow taking hold, matching the color of the circles under his eyes. “I just wouldn’t put anything past her, would you?”
“No,” I answer. My voice is shaky.
“The timing is suspect. They could have filed the will and then set the plan in place to kill him.” Bob stares at me.
My hand covers my mouth as I shake my head. Everything is in slow motion, like I’m watching Bob on a movie screen. “Tish is a killer? Tish killed John?”
Bob nods, unblinking.
This isn’t a joke.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I manage, the words coming out slow and thick.
“It’s possible, I’m afraid.”
The realization that John may have been murdered by Tish is overwhelming.
“I need a minute. Can you excuse me, please?” I hurry from the room and run up the stairs to the privacy of my bedroom. What was once our bedroom. I sit on John’s side of the bed and try to imagine his last evening. His last night on earth. I force myself to imagine Tish murdering him.
Oh, John, I wish you could tell me what happened that night.
And then I remember. Maybe he did tell me. His last words spoken to me were on a voice mail he left me after I’d fallen asleep. The night he died. I haven’t listened since the morning after, since he was gone. I reach for my phone and press the voice mail from John. I hold the phone to my ear as I listen to his last words.
When I heard this message originally, I didn’t think anything of it. But now, in this context, with what Bob has told me about the will? Holy shit.
