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Chapter Ten

I got the worst night’s sleep of my life.

I didn’t lie awake. That would have been preferable to what happened, which is that I dozed off and woke up every hour on the hour with horrible nightmares. But they weren’t exactly nightmares. They were memories.

Derek and I had our first date at a French restaurant. It was so much fancier than what I was used to. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, and, of course, things got much harder after our parents died and it was just me and Claudia. I wasn’t used to being spoiled that way.

I opened up the menu and was immediately intimidated.

It was entirely in French, and I had a feeling that even if I spoke French, I wouldn’t have known what half these dishes were.

I timidly asked Derek what was good, and he told me he would order for both of us.

He didn’t even ask me what sort of things I liked to eat, but his confidence was compelling.

It was so different from every other man I’d ever dated.

Derek ordered some special fancy red wine. He actually sniffed the cork. The server poured it into my glass, and Derek watched eagerly as I took a sip. What do you think, Quinn?

I sat there, unsure how to distinguish this fancy wine from the kind I got for ten dollars from the local liquor store. It’s got a fruity note, I finally said. (It didn’t. It tasted exactly like the ten dollar wine.)

Derek beamed at me, and I felt like I had gotten the right answer on a test. He was so handsome and dripping with charm and charisma. He seemed better than me. Claudia would have been angry if I said that, but I couldn’t help feeling that way.

He ordered us something called coq au vin, which he explained was hen braised in red wine. I also tried foie gras, which is apparently duck liver. It tasted terrible to me, but over the last several years, I grew to appreciate the taste.

And then as we were finishing up the most divine chocolate soufflé, Derek leaned in and kissed me.

In real life, it was a lovely kiss that led to a second date, then a third, then far too soon, a proposal I couldn’t say no to.

But in my dream, we had that same dinner, the same expensive wine, and the same delicious chocolate soufflé.

And he kissed me the same way. But then when he pulled away, there was a red stain spreading across his white dress shirt.

Quinn , he gasped.

I looked down and saw a steak knife in my right hand. It was covered in my husband’s blood. I let it clatter to the floor, but it was too late.

You bitch, Derek managed as the color drained from his face. Call… an ambulance…

But I didn’t call an ambulance. I just stood there, watching the life drain out of him.

I let my husband die on the floor of my kitchen.

So that’s my other secret. I stabbed Derek in the abdomen to keep him from strangling me, but there was a moment when I might have been able to save him.

If I had run straight to the phone and called 911, maybe he would be alive right now.

But I didn’t. Yes, I killed him in self-defense, but I wanted him to die.

Not only that, but I waited to make sure he was dead.

I stood there, watching him bleed out. As he cried for help.

He begged me to call an ambulance until he lost consciousness.

And even after he was unconscious, I still waited.

Waited until his chest stopped rising and falling.

Waited until I couldn’t feel a pulse in his wrist.

I wake up with a start in my uncomfortable double bed in the motel room. For a moment, I’m completely disoriented. I have no idea where I am. But then it all comes rushing back to me. Where I am. What I’ve done.

I sit up in bed, my heart pounding.

I’ve got to get out of here.

I look at my wrist watch—it’s close to nine o’clock.

I don’t know how I managed to sleep so late when I was hardly sleeping at all.

But I can’t even waste a second getting back on the road.

I don’t have time to attempt to get the television to work to check out the news. I’ll listen to it on the car radio.

I hit the bathroom to empty my bladder and splash some water on my face.

When I look at my reflection in the mirror, I flinch.

I look awful. My blond hair is at least dry by now, but it looks like it was cut with…

well, with a pair of scissors in somebody’s bathroom.

The strands are limp and lifeless, and there are dark purple circles under my eyes.

I look like I’ve aged ten years overnight.

But the worst part is I still look like me. Yes, a bedraggled version of me, but I’m still clearly Quinn Alexander. If anybody saw a photograph of me, I’m recognizable, even with my hair hacked off.

I don’t know what to do to change my appearance. In the short term, I need to buy some hair dye. Something dark, but not a black color that will draw attention. And I can try to pack on some weight, although I can’t imagine how I’ll accomplish that when I have no money for food.

Anyway, I’ll figure it out later. Right now, I’ve got to get out of here.

As I pull on my blue jeans, I hear a rap at the door. My heart thuds in my chest. Is it the police? Have they come looking for me? But then I hear Nick’s voice.

“Kelly?”

“Hang on!” I grab my socks off the radiator. They’re very stiff, but warm and dry. I stuff my feet into them and run a hand through my hacked off hair. “Coming!”

I crack open the door, and Nick is standing there, holding a plate of food. It appears to be scrambled eggs and a few slices of crisp bacon.

“Sorry to disturb you…” He looks pointedly at the sign hung from my doorknob. “But I made you some breakfast. I figured you’d be hungry.”

He’s right. At the sight of the plate of food, my stomach groans painfully. The eggs are brown, but I couldn’t care less. I could devour them in one bite. “Thanks. I’m going to get on the road pretty soon though.”

Nick’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “On the road?”

“Yeah…” I glance out the window. “The snow stopped, right?”

“Right, but…” He frowns. “We’re buried. I can’t get a plow to come out here till the late afternoon. I don’t see where you parked, but unless you’ve got a huge truck, I don’t see how you’re getting out of here.”

My stomach sinks. “Are you serious?”

He shifts between his feet. “I’m sorry. I can try calling the plow company again. But we got about two feet of snow here last night…”

No, no, no… this can’t be happening. I need to leave right now. “Maybe I could dig out my car.”

“Uh…”

I grip the white plate in my hands, my appetite suddenly gone. “Would you help me?”

“Help you?”

“Help dig me out.” I’m gripping the plate so hard, it feels like it might shatter in my hands. “I’ve got to get out of here today. Please.”

“Uh…” Nick glances over my shoulder, out the window at the blinding white snow coating absolutely everything. “I guess we can try, but there’s a lot of snow out there. Where did you park anyway? You’re not in the lot right outside.”

“I parked by that diner. The one that’s boarded up.”

“Okay.” He lifts his shoulders. “We can give it a shot.” He looks down at my feet. “You got boots?”

Of course I don’t have boots. I didn’t even have freaking socks. “No. It’s fine though.”

He rubs the stubble on his jaw. “Let me borrow a pair from Rosalie. You look like you’re about the same size.”

Something about borrowing a pair of boots from his sick wife makes me feel a little uneasy. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. There’s a lot of snow out there. You’re going to lose a toe if you don’t have a pair of decent boots on.”

He makes a good point. “If you’re sure it’s okay…”

He nods at the plate of food. “Why don’t you eat breakfast, then I’ll meet you downstairs with the boots.”

I agree to do it, but his expression doesn’t make me feel hopeful. What if I can’t get out of here? I’m a sitting duck right now.

After he’s gone, I shovel eggs into my mouth while I attempt to get reception on the television. The eggs are pretty terrible. They are dry and bland, and the bacon is burned. He did better with the turkey sandwich. To be fair, it’s hard to ruin a turkey sandwich.

I tune into the local news, but there’s no mention of any sort of murder. Again, most of the news is about the blizzard. I don’t know if it’s just that the story hasn’t hit the news yet, or if nobody has discovered Derek’s body yet.

It seems almost impossible they haven’t discovered him yet. That he’s just lying on the kitchen floor, dead, and nobody knows it. How long does it take for a body to decompose? It couldn’t already be happening, could it? Not in the cold, at least.

It’s almost impossible to think of Derek that way. He was so strong and big and full of life. He was larger than life. For him to be dead…

He is dead, isn’t he?

Isn’t he?

The thought hadn’t occurred to me. I stood there and waited to make sure he was gone. He bled out all over the kitchen floor. He’s definitely dead. He wasn’t breathing.

He’s dead .

But…

It’s not like I’m a doctor. It seemed like he wasn’t breathing. I couldn’t feel a pulse. He was so still. And there was so much blood. There’s no way he could still be alive.

Before I left the house, I didn’t check him.

I couldn’t bear to. I just assumed he was still lying on the kitchen floor, the way I left him.

It’s like that feeling you get when you left your house in the morning and you’re not sure if you shut off the lights or locked the door. Except a million times worse.

What if the reason nobody’s looking for me is that Derek isn’t actually dead?

I feel like I’m going to throw up the eggs I just ate. A few moments ago, I felt confident of one thing: Derek was dead. I was sure of it. But now I’m not so sure anymore. What if he got up off the floor, got himself patched up, and now he’s out there looking for me?

Either way, I need to get the hell out of here.