Page 64 of She Didn’t See It Coming

Alice hears Derek’s cell phone buzz and lifts her head. They’re in the kitchen, making dinner.

“It’s Detective Salter,” Derek says, his voice tight. Then he answers. “Hello?”

“Mr. Gardner, it’s Detective Salter.”

“Put it on speaker,” Alice says.

Derek does as she says. “Yes? What is it?” He’s looking at Alice.

“I wanted to let you know, if you haven’t heard it already, that we have arrested Sam Frost and Paige Mason for the murder of Bryden Frost.”

For a moment, Alice is too surprised to speak. Then she asks, “Who is Paige Mason?” loudly enough that the detective can hear her.

But the detective ignores her question. “I thought you’d both like to know,” the detective continues, “that the witness who told us that Derek was having an affair with Bryden has now admitted it was a total fabrication.”

Alice is pleasantly surprised to hear this. Despite all his denials and protestations, she’d thought for sure her husband had been sleeping with Bryden Frost. She was even half convinced he’d murdered her.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” Derek says to the detective, but he’s still looking at his wife as he says it. “I’ve half a mind to sue you for harassment,” Derek says.

The detective replies, “We were doing our jobs—we did absolutely nothing that would amount to harassment. In any event, I wanted to let you know, as a courtesy.” She hangs up.

Alice moves closer to him and says, “I think this calls for champagne!” They always have a bottle of bubbly in the fridge in case there’s cause for celebration, and this certainly counts.

Derek grins at her and takes her in his arms. “I told you I barely knew her. Now do you believe me?”

“Yes.” She wraps her arms around him and kisses him on the mouth. Then she murmurs, “Are you really thinking of suing them? That might not be a good idea.”

“No. Let’s stay away from Detective Salter and the police,” he answers.

As Derek wrestles with the champagne cork, Alice thinks to herself, so that’s that. Danger averted. Detective Salter is going to leave them alone. She’s not going to dig any deeper. Lucky for them. Lucky for the detective.

···

Paige paces her small jail cell in the basement of the police station.

It’s an enclosed room, with a small slot in the door.

She can’t see anything much. She has been arrested and knows that she will be charged with being an accessory to murder after the fact, and perhaps for obstruction, and that she will probably go to jail, but she hopes it won’t be for too long, or maybe not at all, because she is going to help them put Sam away for murder.

She weeps at the tragedy of it all—she’s lost Bryden, and Sam and Clara.

She imagines Sam upstairs, being interviewed by the detectives.

She remembers how dismissive he was this morning when she’d picked up Clara to take her to day care.

How he’d expected her to pick Clara up again later this afternoon.

Well, she couldn’t, as it turned out, and neither could he.

She has realized too late how much he’d been taking her for granted.

The same way he used to take Bryden for granted. And Paige isn’t even married to him.

She doesn’t think he loves her at all. Except for the one time they slept together since Bryden died, he’s been distant, thinking only of himself.

And she’s angry because she’d done so much for him.

She thought that he could grow to love her.

She’d put Bryden in that storage locker so that they could be together.

So that she could have Bryden’s life. She thought Sam was the one.

If only she, and not Bryden, had met him first. It was so unfair.

She’d been so sure that Sam was the one. But he was just like all the rest of them. Unwilling to commit. Was it something about her? Was there something wrong with her? Something that men sensed, that sent them running?

If so, she has no idea what it is.

Six days ago

Bryden saves the document she’s working on.

It’s 12:42 p.m. Time to get something to eat.

Suddenly she hears the buzz of the intercom; it startles her.

Someone is in the parking garage, wanting to be let in.

She’s not expecting anyone. She has a lot to get done today, she thinks, annoyed; she told everyone: no interruptions.

She decides to ignore it, hoping someone punched in the wrong number by mistake.

She rises from her chair, planning to go to the kitchen to make herself a sandwich. Her stomach grumbles.

The buzzer sounds again. Not a mistake then. Whoever it is, she will get rid of them. Now curiosity mixes with irritation. She presses the button. “Who is it?”

“Bryden? I really need to talk to you.”

She listens in surprise. It’s Paige, and she sounds upset. Bryden stands, thinking, by the intercom. She doesn’t have time for this. But what kind of friend would she be if she turned her away? Paige knows she’s working from home today; she wouldn’t interrupt if it wasn’t important.

“Sure, come on up.” Bryden presses the button to allow Paige into the garage, worried now.

What’s upsetting Paige? She’s going to find out soon enough.

While she waits, she goes back to the dining-room table and quickly checks her phone to see if Paige had sent her texts and she’d missed them.

She turns her notifications off when she’s swamped with work.

But there’s nothing. She puts her phone back down on the table.

She hears the knock at the door and goes to open it. Paige looks odd, different. Unusually intense. Bryden feels the faint stirrings of alarm. “Paige, what is it?”

“I just—I need to talk to you.” She shuts the door behind her and stands there in her coat, staring at her.

“Paige, you’re scaring me a little,” Bryden says. “What’s happened?”

“Can you put on a pot of coffee?” Paige asks, dropping her handbag on the floor.

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt—I know you have a lot of work…”

“That’s okay, what are friends for?” Bryden gives her a quick hug and turns her back to go to the kitchen to make the coffee. She will make a sandwich for Paige too. She feels uneasy. Why isn’t Paige at work? What does she need to talk about?

She’s halfway to the kitchen when she hears sudden, quick steps behind her, the sense of something coming.

Before she can register what’s happening, something plastic is pulled over her head, crushed hard against her face, and she is yanked backward.

She gasps in shock and fear, but she can’t get any air.

She struggles against her attacker, thrashing her arms behind her, but the other person is taller, stronger, and Bryden flails helplessly.

It’s Paige behind her, Paige who has her in this deathly grip.

Bryden knows it, but she can’t process it.

As she tries desperately to draw breath to fight, the plastic bag is sucked into her mouth.

She can smell it, taste it, but she can’t get any air.

There is intense, crushing pressure on her nose, her face.

She is suffocating in the iron hold of her assailant, drowning in her own terror.

She can hear Paige’s breath behind her, rasping with effort.

As Bryden struggles, growing weaker and weaker, time seems to slow down, and her vision grows darker.

She wonders why Paige is doing this. Her arms lose their energy, her feet kick out for the last time.

As she loses consciousness, her last thoughts are of her daughter.