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“Goddamnit,” I mutter. He has no intention of stopping things with Kit. He’s going to do something rash tonight. Steal Kit out of town.My wife is onto me. We have to go, now.
Or maybe he’s snuck out to do something worse.
All at once, my throat feels like I’ve swallowed knives. I reach for the doorknob to the side yard—do I risk following him? Will my kids be okay alone for a few minutes? But there’s something wrong with my depth perception, and I swipe only air. I try again, this time turning the knob, but as I walk over the threshold, my legs feel like they’re filled with sand. It feels like I’ve stood up too fast, too, so I lean against the wall and wait for the feeling to pass.
Except itdoesn’tpass. Stars whirl. The dizziness is nauseating.Deep breaths,I tell myself. Is this a panic attack? But that’s ridiculous. I’m not the panic attacktype.My kids’ faces pass through my mind. Am I dying? Is this a stroke?
But then I think of the water I’ve just drunk. My mind halts at eventhinkingsuch a thing, but then I cross the bridge anyway, letting the idea in. Of course he did. It was his only way to escape.An eye foran eye. Patrick dissolved an Ambien in a glass of water just like I’d plopped one into Kit’s martini.
I feel my eyelids drooping, but I fight against it as hard as I can. I’m so angry I want to wail, except I’m also so exhausted I can barely manage a whimper. But if Patrick thinks I’m going to give up without a fight, he clearly doesn’t know me very well. I’m not going to descend into oblivion. I run to the powder room, shove my fingers down my throat, and watch as bile and liquid come back up. It will erase some of the medicine from my bloodstream. I need to be the smarter one here.
I need to stop the murderer from getting away.
33
LAURA
FRIDAY, MAY 5, 2017
I’ve drifted off just as my alarm buzzes. I shoot up, silencing it quickly, not wanting to alert Ollie. My eyes adjust to the darkness. I’m lying in our king-size bed. Ollie let me back into the bedroom, I suspect, because it’s easier to keep track of me if we’re sharing a room.
But as I turn, I realize that Ollie’s side is cold. My heart jolts. I spring out of bed and run to the baby’s room, my heart in my throat. Freddie is snoozing away, his lips parted, his eyelids fluttering. I place my hand over my heart as if to slow it down.
I creep downstairs, knowing that at any moment, Ollie could step out of the shadows. He could ambush me in the living room and strangle me to death. I pad through the foyer, past the couch, into the kitchen, my body on high alert. No lights are on. Outside, nothing stirs.
And then I see it: Ollie’s car isn’t in the driveway. I blink, dumbfounded. He’s... gone?
I stand stock-still in the middle of the kitchen, opening and closing my fists. What does this mean? Has Ollieleft? Hope fills me. Maybe he took off for good. But in the next breath, I doubt this is true—afterall of Ollie’s threats to keep me here, it makes no sense that he’d randomly give up.
But still, he’s given me a window. This is my chance. I need to get out of here before he comes back.
Stealthily—I still don’t trust what’s happening—I tiptoe back into Freddie’s room. His crib mobile spins gently, emitting soft, tinkling bedtime music. My heart pounds as I carefully lift him from his crib. “Shh,shhh,” I whisper as he stirs and grumbles.
Freddie is a heavy lump against my chest, but he remains asleep. Trembling, I creep out of his room and maneuver down the stairs. Before I went to bed, I left my purse and keys by the door, where I could easily find them—and miraculously, they are still here. I peek out the front window again. Ollie’s side of the driveway is still empty. Is this truly happening? Am I going to get to slip out of here?
The baby snores as I loop the purse and baby bag over my wrist and silently undo the front bolt. The door opens soundlessly, as though greased. Cold air assaults my face and I wince, pressing Freddie tighter to me, willing him not to react to the change in temperature. His eyes remain closed. His breathing is steady.
Only a few more steps. First down the front porch, and then across the walk, and then unlocking the Subaru. The sky above me is the color of ink, and all the stars are out. A streetlamp casts my long shadow across the grass. I glance down the street, but Ollie’s SUV doesn’t appear through the darkness, ready to catch me out. Hurriedly, I place the baby in his car seat and strap him in. Freddie smacks his lips and stirs for a moment, but then drifts back to sleep. I slide into the driver’s seat and jam the key into the ignition.
I pull away from the house. Pause at the stop sign at the end of the street and look both ways, though it’s asinine to think anyone would be out at this time of night. I turn two more times, and then I’m on the highway going north. At this rate, we’ll get to my parents’ house at about 1:00A.M.
I breathe out, feeling the tears drip down my cheeks. The tension I’ve been holding in for days explodes from me, and I let out a few wrenched, wretched sobs. But I’m happy, too. Relieved. Because I’ve done it. I’ve escaped.
And maybe, just maybe, I’m safe.
34
RAINA
FRIDAY, MAY 5, 2017
A driver drops me at a house in Blue Hill with a long, sloped, unkempt front yard littered with wildflowers, weeds, and political candidate signs of races long past. The driveway has dandelions growing through the asphalt cracks. A dim light glows from the porch, but otherwise, the house looks shut and dark.
I knock tentatively on the door, my skin crawling. Alexis—and I’ve decided to call her that in my mind, despite the fact that it isn’t her real name—opens it right away, her long blond hair cascading over her shoulder. “Doeshelive here?” I splutter. “Or is this place abandoned?” The last thing I want is to get arrested for trespassing.
Alexis shrugs. “He said it belongs to a bunch of the people in the kinky community. You pay a fee to play here. Think of it as a co-op.”
“More like agross-op,” I murmur as she opens the door.
