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“Ruth. . . Ruth. . .” a voice called from the door. Ruth slowly, quietly, slipped out of bed, carefully skirting the creaky spot on the floor. She crept along the little hallway, past her kitchen, where her appliances seemed to gurgle and groan in their slumber.
“Ruth. . . Ruth. . .” The voice again. A man’s voice. Quiet. Cajoling. Ruth edged over to the door and carefully checked that both locks were in place. She clutched her phone, ready to call 911 if he came crashing through the door. Slowly, painfully slowly, she raised her eye to the peephole. She held her breath, aware that there was a man just inches away from her, a man who seemed determined to find her.
The hallway was shadowy, and the figure was wearing a dark green sweatshirt with the hood up. But then he turned, and the dim overhead light caught his face.
It was Officer Rankin. But he wasn’t wearing his uniform, and he was alone. Ruth eyed the loose sweatshirt. There was no way to tell if he was armed.
“I can hear you through the door. I know you’re there. . .” he murmured.
Ruth stepped back from the peephole, covering her mouth in terror. She glanced down at her phone, suddenly aware that she had no one to call—certainly not the police. She was alone in an apartment where the only exit was being blocked by a strange man.
She couldn’t go back to bed, not when he was still out there. Instead, she slowly slid down the wall, taking hot, shallow breaths through her clasped hands. How long would he stay out there?
“You’ve had a good run. But it’s time to end this,” he said with a smirk in his voice.
Ruth didn’t say anything, so he tried another tack.
“You’ve drawn too much attention to yourself. You want to plaster yourself all over the Internet? Well, I’m listening, Ruth. And it’s time you told us the truth.”
She tried to keep breathing, even though her chest was getting tighter and tighter.
“You can’t keep doing this, Ruth. We won’t allow it. Nobody gets away with murder. You should know that by now, you stupid bitch.”
He hasn’t come here as a cop, not tonight.This wasn’t the kind of thing an officer on duty would do, and there was no partner in sight. Ruth knew that Officer Rankin was working for the Montgomerys and it was obvious that he was here on their business.Was he going to kill her?Anything seemed possible in the middle of the night.
“Ruth. . .Ruth. . .” he whispered, his voice barely passing through the door. She shivered and held herself even tighter.
Ruth sat there for ages; her body paralyzed with fear. At some point he stopped talking, stopped threatening and cajoling. She sat there longer, afraid that he was only lulling her into a false sense of security, so that she might do something stupid like unlock the door to check if the coast was clear. Finally, she worked up the courage to look out the peephole. The hallway was empty, still bathed in shadows.
It was only the next morning, when Ruth finally ventured out that she found the picture taped to her door. It was an old picture of her with the Montgomerys, arm in arm with all the people who now wanted her gone.
Standing next to the man Daphne had murdered.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ruth decided to continue the podcast.
She was now in the public eye, and she had to make sure that the story of Daphne St Clair and Ruth Robinson was the right one. How she handled this Gabrielle wrinkle would either make or break her in public life.
When Daphne finally answered the phone and agreed to an interview, Ruth drove to Coconut Grove, hoping to get this episode out as soon as possible, before people abandoned the show. Her listeners needed to know that she was going to give them the truth, the whole truth. About Daphne, yes, but also about Ruth. And she had to do it fast, before they started drawing their own conclusions.
The car was silent as Ruth drove to Coconut Grove. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the wind buffeting her ears. Ruth wiped her face at a red light and was surprised to see that she was covered in a slick, cold sweat. Her face looked bloodshot and lined in the mirror. This investigation had taken so much out of her, had brought so much to the surface, and Ruth knew that she wouldn’t last much longer. Whether it was Daphne or Ruth, something had to give.
There was a police car parked outside the seniors’ center but Ruth strode past it, refusing to look inside. There was nothing they could say, nothing they could do, that could stop her. She knew the stakes, knew what would happen if she failed and how many people were hoping she would do exactly that. Today was the day.
As soon as Ruth walked into Daphne’s room, she could tell that Daphne knew that today would be different too. The air felt like it did before a major tropical storm, when it seemed hazy and charged with electricity. She felt Daphne watching her set up her recording equipment and when their eyes met, Ruth saw that cold, predatory gaze that Daphne’s face lapsed into when she wasn’t consciously trying to obscure it. Daphne didn’t know how Ruth would handle these new allegations, what story the podcast would endorse. Ruth didn’t know yet herself.
So, she took a deep breath and began recording, praying that she wouldn’t fail.
EPISODE ELEVEN: 1972–1974
RUTH:Daphne, a news story broke this week, a very controversial one. Let’s talk about your time in Abrams, New York.
DAPHNE:Sure, that’s essentially where I was at in the story anyways.
RUTH:Well, no we were actually up to 2022 the last time we talked, so this would be oh. . . fifty years earlier.
DAPHNE:Maybe if you didn’t yap so much, I wouldn’t have forgotten about the Seventies! Let’s see, after Leosville, I went back to New York. The kids went to the best schools in the city, they did every kind of extracurricular, and we had summers in the Hamptons. Anything they wanted I bought them.