Page 8

Chapter Eight

And this time, there's a single eye staring out at me.

I raise my hand in a tentative greeting, but before I can even get it in the air, the door swings shut again. Okay then.

I take a cue from my neighbor and shut my door behind me. I turn the lock, then notice the deadbolt on top. I hesitate for a moment, then throw that as well. Not that I think anybody is going to murder me in the shower, but better not to take chances.

My shirt and pants stayed relatively dry under my coat, but my socks and sneakers are absolutely soaked. I kick off my sneakers and then peel my socks off my feet. Fortunately, there’s a radiator in the room, next to the window, so I put my wet sneakers and socks on top of it.

The view from the window overlooks a small, two-story house a stone’s throw away that looks as badly in need of repair as the motel itself.

It’s hard to see with the ice coming down, but the light is on in one of the second-story windows.

There’s the outline of a woman sitting in the window.

That must be Rosalie, Nick’s wife. I awkwardly raise my hand to wave to her.

She doesn’t wave back. People don’t seem terribly friendly here. And that’s just fine.

I step away from the window and open up my luggage.

It takes me less than a minute to realize the horrible truth.

I forgot to pack socks . I brought my jewelry, but I didn’t bring socks.

If Claudia were here, she would tease me mercilessly.

And I would deserve it, because who goes on the run without bringing a few pairs of socks with them?

God, I miss Claudia so much. It’s a good thing the phone doesn’t dial outside lines, because I would be painfully tempted to call her. And that would be a terrible idea, even though I’m desperate to hear her voice just one last time. If she were with me, I would have known to pack socks.

If I had listened to her in the first place, I never would have married Derek.

She warned me. Repeatedly . She told me she didn’t think he was a good guy. But he was just so perfect when he was courting me. There was no way to know what kind of monster he was.

But up until today, I didn't know quite how awful he was.

Some of our senior staff had to go to a conference this weekend, so they all took off early.

The bank closed shortly after lunch, and we were given an unexpected half-day.

I was excited to have an afternoon off. I rarely had the house to myself, and I thought I could take a nice long shower, then watch television as loud as I wanted without Derek yelling at me to keep it down.

But then when I walked through the front door, Derek was already home. I was shocked to see him. And he seemed even more shocked to see me. The second I entered the living room, his face contorted in anger.

What are you doing here? he demanded to know.

Nothing , I stammered. I got out of work early, that’s all.

Are you sure that’s all you’re here for? Or are you meeting some guy?

I tried to explain about the conference. The unexpected half day. I plastered a smile on my face and tried to suggest we do something together, as a couple. Maybe go to the movies or go shopping. Or up to the bedroom, even.

But Derek couldn’t let it go. He kept insisting I came home to meet another man.

And the jealousy was ironic, given I was certain he had cheated on me many times.

He even kept an apartment in Boston, which he claimed was for business purposes since his company is based in the city, but I’m pretty sure it was his little bachelor pad.

I tried to talk him down, but it became obvious he was working himself into a rage. I had never seen him quite like this. But even when his hands balled into fists, I didn’t really think he was going to hurt me until I felt his hands around my neck.

And that was the last straw. He pushed me around long enough. I would not let him take my life.

The part that I still don’t understand is why he got so angry this time.

For a moment, when I first came home, he had been smiling.

I thought he was having a good day. I thought we might have a pleasant afternoon together.

He seemed happy to see me, and then a second later, the smile dropped off his face. I don’t understand why…

Oh my God.

It finally makes sense. Why he was smiling when he heard someone was at the door, then he immediately got angry. He was happy because he didn’t know it was me . He was expecting somebody else.

Another woman.

I sink down onto the bed, shivering from my cold feet.

It makes total sense. Derek came home early to meet some other woman.

And when he saw me, he was angry because I had ruined his tryst by showing up.

Also, in his warped mind, he assumed anyone coming home early was there to fool around, because that’s what he was doing.

I feel sick. This is not good news. I can only hope that in the last minutes of his life, Derek sent a text message to his girlfriend to tell her not to come. Because if he didn’t…

The police may have already discovered his body.

And if that’s the case, it means they’re already looking for me.

And I have left them a wonderful trail of breadcrumbs.

That gas station. The police officer who pulled me over for the broken taillight, for God’s sake.

And here I am, a sitting duck in a motel only about twenty minutes from where I was last spotted.

But then again, there’s a blizzard evolving outside. That will make it hard for them to search for me. And moreover, the blizzard makes it impossible for me to leave. Not tonight, anyway.

I grab the remote control from the end table and turn on the television.

Immediately, snow fills the screen. That’s right—this television has an antenna.

I can’t remember the last time I dealt with a television antenna.

I have only vague memories of my parents fiddling with an antenna when I was barely out of diapers.

I didn’t know they even still made television antennas.

But then again, this TV looks extremely old—like they bought it cheap at a pawn shop.

Everything in this motel looks like it was made several decades ago.

I get up out of bed and wince as my bare feet touch the freezing wooden floor. I walk over to the television and attempt to adjust the antenna. After a minute, I get a clear picture, although if I let go of the antenna, it fades away. So I guess I have to stand here if I want to watch television.

I don’t want to watch television. I just want to see the news.

There’s a pretty, blond woman on the screen, announcing the top stories for the night. Mostly, they’re talking about the blizzard. I listen carefully, waiting to hear anything about the murder of a thirty-four-year-old man named Derek Alexander.

Nothing. Maybe I’m in the clear. At least for now.

I shiver again. My feet feel like blocks of ice. How could I forget to bring socks? Who would be that stupid? Then again, it’s not like I was thinking clearly.

After a moment of consideration, I release the antenna, and the picture on the television turns to snow again. But that’s fine. I pick up the phone and dial zero.

It rings about five times before I hear Nick’s voice on the other line. “Kelly? Everything okay?”

My first thought is, Who is Kelly? Then I remember.

“Um…” I feel a little silly asking this. “I’m just wondering… Do you have any extra socks?”

He chuckles. “Well, no. Not here. I could ask my wife if…” He pauses. “You know what? You should ask Greta. In room 202. She’ll give you some socks.”

“Greta?” Given that she slammed the door in my face when I was about to wave to her, I’m reluctant to knock on her door and attempt to ask her for socks. “She doesn’t seem very friendly.”

“No, she’s just… She’s nice. Really. She’s an old woman. Harmless.”

“I don’t know…” My eyes dart over to the radiator, where my socks still look sopping wet. If anything, they look even more wet than when I put them there. “I guess I could ask…”

“She’ll be happy to give you some socks. She’s a little eccentric, but she’s just lonely. But I promise, she’s nice. She’s lived here for years.”

I’m not excited about this, but Nick doesn’t seem like he’s going to rustle up a pair of socks for me. So if I want my feet to be warm and dry, this is my only option. “Okay.”

“And I’ll be up in a few minutes with the turkey sandwich. Sorry… I got a bit… delayed.”

After we hang up the phone, I stare at the door to the room.

Nick said the woman in 202 is a harmless old lady, but there was something about those eyes staring out at me from the crack in her door.

It creeped me out. And if the police do eventually show up here looking for me, I don’t need another witness they can talk to.

Then again, my feet are freezing.

To hell with it. I flip open the deadlock and unlock the door, then I tromp across the hallway in my bare feet to room 202. I hesitate for half a second, then knock on the door.

After a good ten seconds, I hear a voice behind the door. “Who is it?”

“Um, hi.” I chew on my thumbnail—a bad habit I had as a child that seems to have resurfaced. “I’m staying in room 203. Across the hall. And… I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”

There’s a long silence. For a moment, I wonder if she simply walked away. But then I hear the turning of locks, and a second later, the door cracks open.

For the first time, I can see her clearly. She’s older than I thought. Her hair is long and fine, and as white as the snow falling outside. Every millimeter of her face is lined with wrinkles. Her watery blue eyes stare up at me.

“What do you need?” she says in a crackly voice. She sounds like she used to be a smoker. Or maybe she still is, but I don’t smell cigarette smoke coming from her room.

I smile apologetically. “Socks, actually. I forgot to pack them for my trip.”