Millicent is cleaning up in the kitchen. She is too far away for me to see any details other than her red hair and black clothing. I bet she wears black all the time these days, especially when the police come by. Mourning those women, her husband, and the breakup of her family.
I am both impressed and sickened.
Rory walks into the kitchen and goes straight to the refrigerator. He doesn’t move his right arm, I assume because the sling is still on it. He grabs something and stays there for a few minutes, talking to Millicent.
Jenna never comes into the kitchen, but I have to believe she is okay. Not sick. Millicent has no reason to poison her today.
My legs start to cramp up, and I adjust a little, although there isn’t anywhere to go. The kitchen light goes off, but the bedroom lights are on. Still too early for sleep.
Around me, the neighborhood goes quiet as everyone settles in. Very few cars are on the road. It’s a Tuesday night, not a popular one for big outings. I lean my head back against the tree trunk and wait.
By ten o’clock, everyone should be in bed. At eleven, I almost climb down, but then I let another thirty minutes pass. At half past, I climb down and walk along the edge of the yard, next to the fence, all the way to the house.
As I head to the side door into the garage, I look up.
Rory’s light is out, window closed.
We almost never use the side door to the garage. I am exposed a little, because it is in front of the backyard gate. I slip the key into the lock and click it open. The noise sounds much louder than it probably is, and I freeze for a second before stepping inside.
I stand in the garage, next to the door, and wait for my eyes to adjust so I don’t have to turn on a light.
The outline of Millicent’s car comes into focus. Her luxury crossover is parked in the center of the garage. No need to make room for me anymore. I walk around to the driver’s side, thankful that the window is open. I don’t even have to open the door. I just reach up and flip down the visor. Something falls out onto the seat.
I feel around but find no emergency card, nor anything that feels like one. I open the car door. All at once, the light comes on, and I see something lying on the beige leather seat.
A blue glass earring.
Petra.
She knew. Millicent knew about both of the women I slept with.
Rory never told Jenna. He told his mother.
* * *
• • •
I fall to my knees. Defeat does not describe it. Done. I am just done.
Eventually, I end up lying down on the cement floor, curled into the fetal position. No will to get up, much less run. It’s easier to stay here and wait for them to find me.
I close my eyes. The ground feels so cool, almost cold, and the air is a combination of dust, oil, and a little exhaust. Not comforting, not pleasant. Still, I do not move.
An hour passes, or two. No idea. Maybe it’s been only five minutes.
My kids are what get me up.
And what Millicent might do to them.
Seventy-one
The house is not quite pitch-black. Light from street lamps and the moon filters in through the windows, allowing me to see just enough to not trip. To not make any noise. Although I know I will be caught, and soon, it can’t happen yet.
At the bottom of the steps, I pause to listen. No one upstairs is moving. I go up.
The fifth stair creaks a little. Maybe I knew that, or maybe I never paid attention.
I keep moving.
Jenna’s room is on the left, followed by Rory’s room and, at the end of the hall, the master bedroom.
I start with my daughter.
She is lying on her side, facing the window, and her breathing is steady. Peaceful. Her big white comforter is bunched up around her, like she’s inside a cloud. I want to touch her, but know it’s a bad idea. I watch, memorizing everything. If they put me in prison forever, this is how I want to remember my little girl. Safe. Comfortable. Healthy.
After several minutes, I leave and close the door behind me.
Rory is spread out on his bed, limbs everywhere. Most of them, anyway. The arm he has in a sling is the only one by his side. He sleeps with his mouth open but does not snore; it’s the strangest thing. I watch him the way I watched Jenna, memorizing everything. Hoping my little boy turns into a better man than his father. Hoping he never meets a woman like Millicent.
I cannot blame him for telling his mother everything. I blame myself. For Petra, for taking the earrings. For all of it.
I leave his room, close the door without making a sound, and start down the hall. I imagine Millicent in bed, curled up under the covers, her red hair spread out on the white pillow. I can hear the long breaths she takes when she is in a deep sleep. And I can see the shocked look in her eyes when she wakes up and feels my hands around her throat.
Because I am going to kill my wife.
When Millicent discovered I’d cheated on her, she found her breaking point.
Tonight, I found mine.
I reach the closed bedroom door and lean close, listening. No sound. When I open the door, the first thing I see is the bed.
Empty.
My first instinct is to check behind the door. Maybe because I know Millicent would stab me in the back.
Empty.
“It’s about time.”
Her voice comes from across the room. I see a shadow, her outline. Millicent is sitting next to the window, in the dark. Watching for me.
“I knew you’d come,” she says.
I step forward. Not too far. “Is that right?”
“Of course. It’s what you do.”
“Come home?”
“You have nowhere else to go.”
The truth hits like a slap. The worst part is I can hear her smile. It’s too dark to see it until she turns on the light and stands up. Millicent is wearing her long cotton nightgown. It’s white and swirls around her feet. I was not prepared for her to be awake. I didn’t even bring a weapon.
But she did.
The gun in her hand is at her side, facing down at the floor. She is not pointing it at me. She is also not hiding it.
“That’s your plan?” I say, pointing to the gun. “To kill me in self-defense?”
“Isn’t that what you’re here to do? Kill me?”
I raise both my hands. Empty. “Not likely.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I? Maybe I just want to talk.”
She chuckles. “You can’t be that stupid. If you were, I wouldn’t have married you.”
The bed is between us. It’s a king-size, and I wonder if I can leap over it before she can raise the gun and shoot.
Probably not.
“Didn’t find that emergency card, did you?” she asks.
I say nothing.
“Rory gave me that cheap little earring,” she says. “He thought you were cheating, but then realized you were sneaking out to kill women. Of course, I didn’t tell him he was right the first time.”
I shake my head, trying to understand. “Why—”
“I left that woman alive so everyone would find out what a cheating bastard you are,” she says.
Petra.
Petra is still alive because she had sex with me. And she’ll never even know it.
“Do you have any idea,” Millicent says, “how much therapy our son is going to need?”