He hangs up.
The only surprise is that he stayed by me as long as he did. I didn’t deserve his friendship. Not after Trista.
The sun has started to set, and I decide to make one last pass by the house before trying to go in. All I have to do is get into the garage, to her car, but it has to be after Millicent is asleep.
And I have keys.
Fifteen minutes later, I pass by on the parallel block and look for anything unusual. Like an unmarked police car because they are waiting for me to do exactly what I am about to do. Nothing. No unusual cars, no work trucks. There is nothing I don’t recognize in the neighborhood. Except me, the bearded guy who jogs too much. It’s surprising no one has stopped me yet.
I head back to Kekona’s using different streets. It’s the long way, but I used the short way earlier. By the time I make it to the edge of the circular drive up to her house, I stop dead.
A town car is in front.
The driver pulls a suitcase out of the trunk.
I hear her voice. Kekona is home.
Seventy
She’ll know. They will all know.
It will take Kekona seconds to realize someone has been staying in her house. The police will know it is me within another few seconds. My car is in the garage. My fingerprints are everywhere. So is my DNA, and Millicent’s tablet is right on the kitchen table.
Oh, and my wallet. I did not take it with me on the jog. It’s also on the kitchen table.
I go back the way I came and jog all the way out to the least expensive houses in the Oaks. Here, there is a small greenspace, away from the children’s park, where I stop near a group of trees and pretend to stretch.
I’ve got nowhere to go. No Andy to call or phone to call him with. No money, no friends, and almost a total lack of hope. But I do have keys. They are the only thing in my pocket.
Tonight was going to be the night anyway, the night I go into the garage to get the emergency card. In that respect, nothing has changed. What has changed is that I need a place to hide until Millicent is asleep.
My first thought is the club. Plenty of small rooms and closets to hang out in until well after dark. Getting in and out is the problem. Too many cameras.
The golf course is empty at night, but it’s filled with wide-open spaces visible from the road.
I’ll never find an unlocked car, not in Hidden Oaks. Here, everyone has modern, expensive cars, the kind with computers that do everything, including lock the doors.
For a moment, I consider hiding under a car. I’m just afraid someone will get in and start it.
In the distance, sirens. They are coming this way, but not to me. To Kekona’s.
My options are dwindling, and I have to move. I can’t just stay in this little greenspace forever. Not unless I bury myself.
I even consider hiding in my own backyard. And then, I do.
Everything looks different from above. The neighborhood, the cars, the sky. My house. My kitchen, where the light is on.
Millicent.
She is the one who convinced me to climb a tree. It was not something I thought I would do again, but here I am, hidden within the big oak tree at the back of our yard. Far enough from the house that no one heard the leaves rustling as I climbed up it.
Millicent is cleaning up in the kitchen. She is too far away for me to see any details other than her red hair and black clothing. I bet she wears black all the time these days, especially when the police come by. Mourning those women, her husband, and the breakup of her family.
I am both impressed and sickened.
Rory walks into the kitchen and goes straight to the refrigerator. He doesn’t move his right arm, I assume because the sling is still on it. He grabs something and stays there for a few minutes, talking to Millicent.
Jenna never comes into the kitchen, but I have to believe she is okay. Not sick. Millicent has no reason to poison her today.
My legs start to cramp up, and I adjust a little, although there isn’t anywhere to go. The kitchen light goes off, but the bedroom lights are on. Still too early for sleep.
Around me, the neighborhood goes quiet as everyone settles in. Very few cars are on the road. It’s a Tuesday night, not a popular one for big outings. I lean my head back against the tree trunk and wait.
By ten o’clock, everyone should be in bed. At eleven, I almost climb down, but then I let another thirty minutes pass. At half past, I climb down and walk along the edge of the yard, next to the fence, all the way to the house.
As I head to the side door into the garage, I look up.
Rory’s light is out, window closed.
We almost never use the side door to the garage. I am exposed a little, because it is in front of the backyard gate. I slip the key into the lock and click it open. The noise sounds much louder than it probably is, and I freeze for a second before stepping inside.
I stand in the garage, next to the door, and wait for my eyes to adjust so I don’t have to turn on a light.
The outline of Millicent’s car comes into focus. Her luxury crossover is parked in the center of the garage. No need to make room for me anymore. I walk around to the driver’s side, thankful that the window is open. I don’t even have to open the door. I just reach up and flip down the visor. Something falls out onto the seat.
I feel around but find no emergency card, nor anything that feels like one. I open the car door. All at once, the light comes on, and I see something lying on the beige leather seat.
A blue glass earring.
Petra.
She knew. Millicent knew about both of the women I slept with.
Rory never told Jenna. He told his mother.
I fall to my knees. Defeat does not describe it. Done. I am just done.
Eventually, I end up lying down on the cement floor, curled into the fetal position. No will to get up, much less run. It’s easier to stay here and wait for them to find me.
I close my eyes. The ground feels so cool, almost cold, and the air is a combination of dust, oil, and a little exhaust. Not comforting, not pleasant. Still, I do not move.
An hour passes, or two. No idea. Maybe it’s been only five minutes.
My kids are what get me up.
And what Millicent might do to them.
Seventy-one
The house is not quite pitch-black. Light from street lamps and the moon filters in through the windows, allowing me to see just enough to not trip. To not make any noise. Although I know I will be caught, and soon, it can’t happen yet.
At the bottom of the steps, I pause to listen. No one upstairs is moving. I go up.
The fifth stair creaks a little. Maybe I knew that, or maybe I never paid attention.
I keep moving.
Jenna’s room is on the left, followed by Rory’s room and, at the end of the hall, the master bedroom.
I start with my daughter.
She is lying on her side, facing the window, and her breathing is steady. Peaceful. Her big white comforter is bunched up around her, like she’s inside a cloud. I want to touch her, but know it’s a bad idea. I watch, memorizing everything. If they put me in prison forever, this is how I want to remember my little girl. Safe. Comfortable. Healthy.
After several minutes, I leave and close the door behind me.
Rory is spread out on his bed, limbs everywhere. Most of them, anyway. The arm he has in a sling is the only one by his side. He sleeps with his mouth open but does not snore; it’s the strangest thing. I watch him the way I watched Jenna, memorizing everything. Hoping my little boy turns into a better man than his father. Hoping he never meets a woman like Millicent.
I cannot blame him for telling his mother everything. I blame myself. For Petra, for taking the earrings. For all of it.
I leave his room, close the door without making a sound, and start down the hall. I imagine Millicent in bed, curled up under the covers, her red hair spread out on the white pillow. I can hear the long breaths she takes when she is in a deep sleep. And I can see the shocked look in her eyes when she wakes up and feels my hands around her throat.