He doesn’t look at me, just slides the gun into his pocket, then bends over again and takes something else out of the chest. It’s a photo album, white satin.
“Elizabeth loved this house.” He slowly flips through the album. “We came here almost every weekend.” He touches one of the photos, almost reverently, his hand grazing over the surface. “I heard that women glow when they’re pregnant, and I always thought that was a myth, but when we found out she was finally pregnant, it’s like she was lit with a hundred candles.”
Elizabeth was pregnant? No, how could this be? There wasn’t anything in the papers, nothing came out at the trial. Wouldn’t the police have known?
“I didn’t tell them she was three months along. They might’ve given him a longer sentence.” He puts the album back inside the chest, closes the lid, and rests his hand on top. “Her ashes are in here, with her wedding dress, the baby shoes she bought—pink ones. She was so sure it was a girl.” He looks up at me. “I was notified when Andrew was released. I could’ve shot him as he walked out of the prison, but that would have been too easy. He had to feel like he was getting everything back, his freedom, his family, then I was going to take it all away.”
He’s studying my face, his expression satisfied as he notices my tears. He’s enjoying this, revealing his clever plan, gloating over his brilliance. “You told me everything. You told me about your marriage, and I used it all. You even let me watch as you typed in your alarm password. Sophie’s letters told me everything else. She kept them under her dresser, you know.”
He’d been through every inch of my house. He knew everything about my daughter, our house, had been through our drawers. And I was the one who let him in.
“I’d drive down and watch him in Victoria, going about his day, laughing with guys on the job site, enjoying his life.” He spits out the last words. “Then I saw him buy his plane ticket. He was coming to Dogwood Bay. It was time. You believed he was stalking you, eventually even Sophie believed it. The police would’ve blamed him for your deaths.”
I stop straining at my bindings, this final truth wrapping tighter around me than the tape. All this time, as the months and days sped past, he’d been planning to kill me and Sophie. I sag backward, reeling from the blow, the knowledge. I’m shaking again, my body in blind panic.
“You trusted me so much by then. I could have made it look like he’d tracked you down in Vancouver and killed you there, but then he followed me into your house.”
The rest comes clear. I see him and Andrew standing at the top of the stairs. I see them fighting. I see how much Andrew loved Sophie. How much he loved me.
“I was still so fucking angry.” It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him swear, the harshness adding to my terror. “What was the point of his death? I had nothing left. I still thought about Elizabeth every second of every day. Then you needed a place to stay, and it seemed right, like some sort of message. Why shouldn’t I take his family? He destroyed mine. I almost started believing I could have some sort of life again. But then you told me about the pills.…” He meets my eyes, stares into them. It’s all in there. His despair, his rage. It was never about me.
I twist my body, roll up onto my knees, my hands in front of my heart in the prayer position. I’m crying hard now, trying to moan and grunt. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
He looks around the room, takes a deep breath, as though savoring the very scent of the walls, the air. “I’m going to miss this house, but it’s time. I have to start over. It’s the only answer.” In one smooth motion, he lifts the duffel bag over his shoulder and meets my eyes again. “I’m going to burn the house down now. It will go fast—the smoke will kill you first.”
I slide off the edge of the bed, drop to my knees. He’s already walking out of the room in quick strides. I crawl after him, an awkward shimmy on knees and elbows. I have to get out the door, wedge it with my body. But he’s moving too fast, I can’t keep up.
The door is opening. I have a quick glimpse of the dark living room, the table, chairs. He doesn’t look back as he closes the door. I’m a few feet behind, still crawling. Scraping sounds, something being dragged in front of the door. The bookshelf.
He’s trapped me in the bedroom.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
SOPHIE
I don’t hear sirens. Our feet thud on the road in tandem. I’ve lost one of my slippers, but I don’t slow down. We’ve been gone too long. Angus stops suddenly, ears pricked, then he plunges into the darkness beside the road.
“Angus!” I turn and peer through the trees. Should we wait for him? Jared grabs my arm and I start running again. He’ll be okay, I tell myself. He’ll catch up. I keep hoping to hear the jingle of his collar, but there’s nothing, just the sound of the heavy rain and screaming wind and our gasping breaths.