Elizabeth was his wife.
The answer comes loud and clear and I realize that I already knew. As soon as I saw the books, I knew. That’s why I was looking for the pills. I slide to my knees, still holding the soap container. No. This is wrong. I’m jumping to conclusions. Andrew died in my house.
They’d ruled it an accident, but Corporal Parker had questions, so many questions, about me, Greg, and Chris. She said lots of people were angry with Andrew, but maybe she missed one. The most important one. I think back to what I know of Elizabeth Sanders. The newspapers had mentioned a husband but nothing else. The family had asked for privacy.
Each new thought hits harder. Marcus volunteered at my support group, he became my friend. Had he just been waiting for Andrew to get out of jail? He probably knew Andrew would come looking for me one day. And now he knows I drugged Andrew that night. I sat here and told him all about it, then we made love.
What kind of game is this? What does he want with me?
As soon as Sophie is back with the Cherokee we have to leave, but what do I say to Marcus? Do I confront him? No. We have to get to a safe place. I’ll have to come up with some sort of emergency that means we need to go back to town. Then I’ll call the police.
I stand up on shaky legs, carefully put the pills back into his shaving kit. I look at his razor. I need a weapon in case he tries to attack me. Maybe a knife.
I move cautiously out of the bedroom, peer into the living room. It’s empty, the fire is dying. I check the window again, keeping my body in the shadows, and grip the curtain tight when I see his boat tied up on the dock. I press closer to the window, check the beach, the path.
He’s not down at the lake anymore.
CHAPTER FORTY
Marcus is standing by the front door, unlacing his boots. I’m struck with an image of Andrew and how he’d loosen the top laces first on each boot, starting with the right. Then he’d straighten and use his left foot against his right heel, while bracing his hand on the wall. I never realized before that they move the same way. Marcus looks up at me with a smile.
“I was getting lonely out there.”
I smile, but my lips feel stiff, fake. He’s going to sense something is wrong if I don’t find some way to pretend everything is okay. I’ve done this before. I did this for years.
“Catch anything?”
“No luck today.”
“Want some coffee?”
“That’d be great.” As I pull down a mug from the cupboard, he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. His skin is cold against the flesh at my belly where my shirt has risen. When he brushes his lips across the nape of my neck, I almost can’t breathe. I concentrate on lifting the decanter.
“God, you’re freezing,” I say “Why don’t you have a hot bath?”
“Maybe.” He pulls away, takes the coffee. “Where’s Sophie?”
“She’s not back yet. I might take Angus for a walk and see if any of the neighbors are home. Someone might have a car I could borrow.”
“It’s a long way around the lake. Let’s just give it a little more time, okay? It’s getting stormy outside again. There’ll be branches falling from the trees. I don’t want you hurt.”
“Okay.” I hide my face behind my coffee mug. Who are you? What have you done? His handsome face is so familiar. I just kissed his lips hours ago, but now he’s a stranger. I want Sophie to come back soon so we can get out of here, but the other part of me wants her to stay where she’s safe. If Marcus realizes something’s wrong, I don’t know what he’s going to do.
He looks around. “Do I smell cleaner?”
“I did some tidying, but I accidentally broke the photo frame in your bedroom—the one with Katie’s photo.” I watch his face, waiting to see how he reacts, and keep a tight grip on my mug. If I have to run, I’ll throw the hot coffee in his face.
“That’s okay,” he says calmly. “I can replace it. Was the photo damaged?” He’s probably wondering if I’ve noticed anything amiss. I have to keep my own voice calm, but I’ve never been so deadly afraid in my entire life. Not even with Andrew.
“I didn’t remove it. I was worried about scratches.”
“Well, don’t worry about it,” he says. “Accidents happen.”
But it wasn’t an accident that we met. Just like it’s not an accident that we’re at the lake house with him right now. He’d been so convincing, weaving his spell. I need you, he’d said.
“Why don’t you have a bath with me?” he says. We’d done that before, when I stayed over at his place. He’d lit candles, dribbled champagne over my body, teased me with his mouth, made me twist and moan and beg for his touch. I fell in love with a man who hated me.
I glance at the front door. “I don’t know.… Sophie—”
“Is a big girl. I don’t think she’ll be traumatized. She knows about the birds and the bees.” He smiles. “You can help me warm up.”