“Kenzie?” Sprague prompts her.
Kenzie glances at me, panic in her eyes, then looks back at the detective. “Oh. Well, we…we just…”
“Is this about Mr. Bennett?”
Kenzie nods wordlessly.
Sprague’s voice softens. “About your relationship with Mr. Bennett?”
Kenzie bows her head, nodding slowly. The detective is quiet, waiting for Kenzie to say something more, but she seems too choked up to say another word. Even though it was her idea to come here, she doesn’t look like she can go on. She squeezes her knees with her chewed-up fingernails as her eyes fill with tears.
I always thought Kenzie seemed so mature, but right now, she looks so young. Like a little girl. She was only fourteen when Nathaniel slept with her. Fourteen. And Nathaniel…he’s almost forty! He’s an adult. Our teacher. I was hurt when I realized that Nathaniel lied to me, but this is the first time that it all hits home.
What he did to us was truly horrible. Unthinkable.
He needs to pay. And Kenzie and I are the only ones who can make sure he gets what he deserves.
“Detective Sprague,” I blurt out, “the truth is Mr. Bennett and I have been sleeping together the entire year. He…he told me not to tell anyone.”
Detective Sprague shakes her head, her eyes on fire. She looks like she wants to take that gun off her holster and empty a few rounds into Nathaniel Bennett. She hasn’t been lying about wanting to help me. You can’t fake the look in her eyes. “That bastard.”
I reach out for Kenzie’s hand, and she gives it to me. We are going to do this together. We are going to tell the truth. I don’t care what kind of trouble I get into. I am tired of lying for that man. He deserves everything that is about to happen to him.
“Now, Addie,” the detective says, “tell me what happened to Eve Bennett.”
And I do. I tell her everything.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Seventy-Six
NATE
I’VE SPENT the last two hours driving around in the rain.
I was losing my mind at home, worrying about Detective Sprague returning to question me and what she might say, so I had to get out of the house. I drove around town, listening to classical music and letting my mind wander. At one point, I drove by Simon’s Shoes, which used to be Eve’s favorite shoe store, and for a moment, a wave of sorrow came over me.
I used to love her. I truly did.
It’s dark by the time I return home. I pull into the garage, since it’s raining, and enter the house through there. Just as I’m stepping into the living room, my phone rings in my pocket. When I pull it out, the same number Sprague was calling from this morning is flashing on the screen.
I don’t want to answer it. I don’t want to receive any more updates from a woman who I am increasingly certain believes I murdered my wife. But if I don’t answer the phone, she will surely come here. So I take the call.
“Hello?” I say.
“Mr. Bennett?” Her voice echoes slightly, like she is on speakerphone. “Where are you, Mr. Bennett?”
“I’m home.”
“You are? Because we were just there, and you didn’t answer your door.”
They were here? I’m glad I missed them. “Yes, sorry. I went out for a drive. It’s been hard sitting around the house, waiting for news.”
“Mr. Bennett, we need to speak to you as soon as possible,” she says. “I’m going to send that patrol car back around to pick you up.”
“A patrol car?” My mouth goes dry. “Why are you sending a patrol car? Am I under arrest?”
“No, not at this time.”
Not at this time.
That doesn’t sound positive. And there’s a hard edge to her voice that wasn’t present yesterday. She’s received new information. I wonder if Addie broke and told her about the two of us. Even worse, what if Kenzie went to the police?
That would be cataclysmic. Kenzie was only fourteen when our relationship commenced. If she goes to the police, I’m in deep trouble. The kind of trouble where I’ll be wearing an orange jumpsuit, and when I get out, I won’t be able to live a certain radius from a playground. That kind of trouble.
To be fair, Kenzie didn’t look fourteen. She was exquisitely beautiful. More beautiful than 99 percent of all grown women out there. Most people don’t understand what it’s like, to have all these beautiful young girls throwing themselves at you year in and year out. I’m not made of stone.
“Mr. Bennett?” Sprague is saying. “Are you there?”
“I…yes,” I choke out. “I’m here.”
“Great. Stay put. I’ll have a patrol car there in a few minutes.”
The line goes dead, and I am left staring at my phone, a growing sensation of dread in my chest. I almost feel like I’m choking. I need some water. I need some water before I suffocate.
I hurry into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. I race over to the sink, snatch a cup from one of the cupboards, and fill it with lukewarm water. I down the entire glass, and then I stand there, still gasping for air. And that’s when I see it. Right in the middle of my kitchen, in the exact spot where I found Eve’s shoes yesterday.
It’s a pumpkin. A jack-o’-lantern, to be specific.
Of course, Halloween has already passed. And for that reason, the pumpkin has started to rot. The rotting flesh of the pumpkin has caused its features to become distorted. What used to be a toothy grin has morphed into an evil grimace.
And then, as I take a step closer, the jack-o’-lantern moves.
What the hell?
Now it shifts even more violently, and a second later, a black bird shoots out of the top of the pumpkin. Is it…a raven? I startle, backing up against the kitchen counter as the bird flaps its wings, trying to escape from my kitchen. After a few failed attempts, it rests on top of the jack-o’-lantern for a moment, staring at me.
Nevermore.
I grasp at strands of my hair with the tips of my fingers. Who is doing this to me? Who is talking to the detective about me? Why is this all happening?
It’s not Addie. I don’t believe she would do this to me. I don’t think Kenzie would do it either. The truth is there’s only one person I believe to be capable of this.
I’ve got to get out of here.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Seventy-Seven
NATE
I’M DRIVING FAR TOO FAST.
If I get pulled over by the police, it will all be for nothing, and I’ll be in trouble with Sprague for leaving the house when she instructed me to stay put. But then again, I am already in trouble with Sprague. If I go to that police station, I will likely never leave.
It’s still raining, and my Honda only has front-wheel drive, so I need to slow the hell down and be more careful. Eve always told me to get a car with four-wheel drive, but I was stubborn. In spite of everything—in spite of what might happen to me if the police catch up with me—I do not want to be killed in a fiery car wreck tonight. Death is worse than prison.
Before, I was driving aimlessly, roaming the streets and willing to go anywhere but home. But now, I know exactly where I’m going. I’m going back to that pumpkin patch.
It’s risky, but I need to do this. I need to prove to myself that my wife is truly dead and buried among the rotting pumpkins. If I get to that patch and find her grave intact and her body rotting in the earth, that can only mean her soul has returned to haunt me.
Because there is nobody but Eve who would plant a raven in my kitchen.
It takes me over an hour because it’s raining, and because—unlike during the wee hours of Saturday morning—there is some amount of traffic. While I am making the drive, my phone rings several times. I am certain it is Detective Sprague, but I allow each call to go to voicemail.
At long last, I reach the narrow road leading to the pumpkin patch. Unlike on Saturday morning, when the road was dry and crumbling, the rain has turned the soil moist, and my tires slip on the fresh mud. But even so, I drive until I can go no further.