Page 43 of A Deeper Darkness

“No. Sit down. You are a hot mess. Let me make you some tea.”

Susan spoke through gritted teeth. “I said, get out of my way.”

Sam was two inches taller than Susan, but no heavier. She squared her body, tightened up, prepared for the blow and stepped closer, trying to use her body as intimidation.

“Sit. Down.”

Susan got wild-eyed and coiled for a second, like she was going to punch Sam and make a run for it, then shook her head and reached for a chair. She collapsed in it heavily, sank her forehead to the table. Her voice was wavering with tears.

“Why do you even care how I feel?”

That took Sam aback. My God, did she come across as a callous, unfeeling bitch? Who wouldn’t be moved by this situation? And Sam especially, having gone through this kind of heartbreak, the rending apart of the soul. Maybe it was Susan Donovan that was the bitch.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve just been through a terrible loss. Grief plays tricks on the mind. I know that. I know what you’re going through. I also know getting drunk isn’t going to fix anything.”

Susan’s voice was still sharp. “You don’t know me. You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know enough about you to know that you’re wishing none of this had happened. That all you want is for him to come back.”

“I didn’t get drunk to bring him back.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I’m scared.”

Sam sat at the table. She was tempted to take Susan’s hands, to lend physical comfort, but Susan was still weaving like a drunken cobra. She settled for soothing words.

“I know. I know exactly how you feel. Like part of you has died, too. That you’re missing something vital, your arm, your leg, and if you stand up too quickly, you’re going to topple over on the floor, and never want to get up. That it would be so much easier to just take a bottle of pills and lie down in your bed, and not have to feel this pain. That you don’t know why you haven’t done that already.”

Her voice softened. “I understand, Susan. I truly do. What you’ve got is much worse than a broken heart. It’s something utterly irreparable. I won’t lie to you. You will never be the same. Your life will never be the same. And after the funeral, especially then, you will be completely lost. But you have two gorgeous daughters who need you. They can’t lose everything. That wouldn’t be fair.”

Susan was looking at the table. Her hand flexed in and out of fists. She took another sip of her drink and met Sam’s eyes for the first time.

“Is that how you felt? Like you wanted to die, too?”

“Yes.” Dear God, she had. She’d felt that so many times she’d gone to stay with her friend Taylor to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid. At least if she was in someone else’s house, she’d worry about them having to clean up the mess.

“It took me months, Susan. I’m still not where I want to be. Look at me. I’ve developed…problems. The job I used to love seems more like a prison sentence. I can’t sleep, I barely eat. I drink too much. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there. But you have to. You have the girls. They will be your salvation in all of this.”

“Don’t you throw my girls at me.”

Sam sighed. “God, would you stop? I’m trying to help you.”

“They’re in danger.”

“No, they’re not. You are a wonderful mother—”

Susan brought her head up. “No, seriously. They’re in danger. Someone broke into our house today.”

Sam felt the muscles tense in her neck. It was one thing to threaten the adults, but if this freak started messing with Donovan’s kids…

“Tell me,” Sam commanded, and Susan gave her the story. About the stranger at the school, and the open door at the house. About the baseball cap she’d thrown away being dug out of the trash and left on her bed.

“Did they take anything?”

“No. From what I can tell, nothing else was disturbed, either. But I got out of there pretty damn quick.”

“We need to call Detective Fletcher and inform him.”