It was freezing cold for a few seconds until the hot water finally warmed and flowed in. Horror sent her heart thundering nearly out of her chest. Despite the streaming water, the only sound she heard was the rush of blood pounding in her ears.
No! She couldn’t die like this.
“Hmm. I don’t think I’ll leave you to drown in the tub,” Señora Sanchez said. “That would be too stupid an accident, even for you. It has to look intentional. Like you did this to yourself.”
She got up and started to scour the medicine cabinet. Her fingers flipped the few pill containers forward, but having a kid, Allie never kept anything more than Tylenol and Ibuprofen in there, and occasionally some leftover antibiotics. Nothing that could be dangerous to her daughter, even with the childproof caps. Not finding what she was looking for, Señora Sanchez stepped out
of the room.
Leaving Allie to watch the water slowly fill the tub. By now, it reached the bottom of her breasts.
Señora Sanchez was talking to her son again. About what, Allie couldn’t quite make out. A moment later, she was back, perched on the edge of the toilet. She held something that glimmered in the light.
“I was hoping to find some pills, something stronger than Tylenol, that I could have fed you that looked like an overdose where you lost consciousness and drowned. But it seems I’m going to have to do things the hard way.” She held a blade up so Allie could see it. The knife was part of the cutlery she and Ryan had been given for their wedding.
God. Talk about ironic. And she’d thought she was the lucky one to get it in the divorce.
The razor-sharp blade rested on the tub surround as Señora Sanchez leaned forward and turned off the water. She pulled a towel—one of Allie’s best—from the rack and used it to wipe the blade and the handle. Then, still holding the towel, she used it to grasp the knife in her palm.
“Now, what is it they say? Something about people mistaking the way to slash their wrists. I don’t actually remember… Do I slice horizontally? Or straight up and down?” She sounded perplexed. “Well, I suppose it won’t really matter. Either way, the warmth of the water will draw the blood out faster. It will be a peaceful death. Other than the initial pain.”
Without any warning, the blade sliced across the thin skin on the inside of her wrist, sending whistles of pain through Allie’s head. Her arm dropped back into the water. It lay limp at her side and, although she couldn’t see it, she could feel the blood pump out into the water.
In the eerie quiet of the bathroom, Allie’s cell phone vibrated from the pocket of her jeans, lying on the floor. The woman flinched. Then, with equal swiftness, she lifted and slashed Allie’s other arm. Then she pressed the handle into Allie’s hand and let it go. Both her arm and the blade dropped into the rising water that now, Allie could see, was laced with ribbons of scarlet.
With the towel, Señora Sanchez wiped the surface of the tub, including the knobs, then turned her attention to the toilet. Allie tried to focus through the scalding pain coursing through her arms. When the woman left the room again, the sharp, throbbing, white-heat of pain was beginning to lessen. Allie felt as though she was floating in water. She began to drift.
Señora Sanchez’s shoes clicked on the tile floor, bringing her back to the present. She was holding a picture of Vi. Setting it on the top of the toilet seat, she propped it up so Allie could see it.
“I don’t dare forge a suicide note. Too risky. This should say it nicely, though. Single mom. Overwhelmed with life and raising a daughter who’d be much better off with her dad and his new wife, anyway, wouldn’t she? She’ll be a big sister soon. That should take some of the edge off losing her mother.”
The woman rose just as the cell phone began vibrating again. She sighed. “I’d prefer to stay, to make sure you’ll never speak to anyone ever again. But it appears someone is desperate to reach you, and I can’t have them finding us here when they come looking for you. So, we’ll be going now.”
And with that, the psychotic woman turned and left, her clipped footsteps echoing back to Allie as she walked away.
A heavy fatigue was taking hold of Allie. She knew that she was losing consciousness, despite the panic and terror gripping her heart.
She really was going to die.
Darkness was descending quickly over her. Just before she succumbed to oblivion, she thought she heard a faraway sound. A soft echo of ringing. The phone?
The trumpets of angels?
A doorbell?
Or simply the last, hopeful imaginings of a dying woman…?
Chapter Eighteen
Sam squealed into Allie’s driveway and threw his car into park. There didn’t appear to be anyone home. The squad car hadn’t yet arrived. He flew to the front door and rang the bell.
No answer.
He pressed his ear to the door and listened.
He could have sworn he heard something inside, but no one came. He jumped down the steps to the flower bed. Where was that piece of tile with the bright green frog? There. He tossed it aside, grabbed the key, and sprinted to the door.
His hands were shaking.