My Lovely Wife

I cannot comprehend the madness of what she has done. The staggering amount of patience. Of discipline. “Why not just leave me?” I say. “Why do all of this?”

“Do what? Set up our home, take care of the kids, make sure everything runs smoothly? Keep track of the finances and cook dinner? Or are you referring to Owen? Because the original plan was to bring him back. For us.” She takes a step closer to the bed but not around it.

“No—”

“And you were so willing. I barely had to do anything. You killed Holly, not me.”

“She threatened you. Threatened our family.”

Millicent throws her head back and laughs. At me.

I stare at her, remembering all the stories she’d told me about Holly. The injuries, the accidents, the threats. The cut on her hand, between her thumb and forefinger. The pieces rearrange in my head, like a puzzle that had been put together wrong.

Millicent had done it all to herself. Holly just got the blame.

“Jesus,” I say. “Holly was never a threat, was she?”

“My sister was nothing but a weak, sniveling girl, who deserved everything I did to her.”

“She crashed the car because you were torturing her,” I say. “Not the other way around.”

Millicent smiles.

Everything hits at once. It’s hard enough to make me dizzy. Millicent set her sister up the same way she set me up.

She has always tortured people. Her sister. Lindsay. Naomi.

Jenna. Maybe she didn’t just poison Jenna to keep me out of the way.

And me. Maybe all those times I was sick, she had done it.

Because Millicent likes to hurt people.

“You’re a monster,” I say.

“That’s funny, because the police say the same thing about you.”

The look on her face is triumphant, and, for the first time, I see how ugly she is. I cannot believe I ever thought she was beautiful.

“I found the eye drops,” I say. “The ones in the pantry.”

Her eyes flash.

“You’ve been poisoning our daughter,” I say.

She was not expecting this. She didn’t think I would figure it out.

“You really are crazy,” she says. A bit less conviction now.

“I’m right. You’ve been making her sick all along.”

She shakes her head. Out of the corner of my eye, something moves. I look toward the door.

Jenna.

Seventy-two

She is standing in the doorway wearing her orange-and-white pajamas. Her hair is sticking out all over, and her eyes are wide. Awake. She is staring at her mother.

“You made me sick?” she says. Her voice is so small it makes her sound like a toddler. A heartbroken toddler.

“Absolutely not,” Millicent says. “If anyone poisoned you, it was your father.”

Jenna turns to me. Her eyes are filling with tears.

“Dad?”

“Baby, no. It wasn’t me.”

“He’s lying,” Millicent says. “He poisoned you, and he killed those women.”

I stare at Millicent, not having any idea who I married. She stares back. I turn to my daughter. “She put eye drops in your food to make you sick.”

“You’re insane,” Millicent says.

“Think back,” I say to Jenna. “All those times you were sick, who cooked your food? How often do I cook at all?”

Jenna stares at me, and then her eyes shift to her mother.

“Baby, don’t listen,” Millicent says.

“What’s going on?”

We are all startled by the new voice.

Rory.

* * *

• • •

He walks up behind Jenna. His eyes are bleary, and he rubs them while glancing from me to his mother to his sister, looking confused about everything. My kids have seen their own lives implode over the past week. Their father has been accused of being a serial killer; their mother has likely told them it is true. I do not know if they believe it.

“Dad?” he says. “Why are you here?”

“I didn’t do what they say, Rory. You have to believe me.”

“Stop lying,” Millicent says.

Jenna looks at her brother. “Dad says Mom made me sick.”

“She did,” I say.

“He’s lying,” Millicent says. “All he does is lie.”

Rory looks at her and says, “Did you call the police already?”

She shakes her head. “I haven’t had a chance. He just walked into the bedroom.”

“And you just happened to have that gun in your hand?” I say.

Rory’s eyes widen as he sees the gun at Millicent’s side. She still has not lifted her hand.

“She was waiting for me to show up,” I say. “So she can kill me and claim I attacked her.”

“Shut up,” Millicent says.

“Mom?” Jenna says. “Is that true?”

“Your father came here to kill me.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true. I came here to get both of you away from your mother,” I say. And I go even further, because they have to know. “Your mother set me up. I didn’t kill those women.”

“Wait a minute,” Rory says. “I don’t get—”

“What is happening?” Jenna yells.

“Enough.” Millicent says. Her voice is low and hard.

We all shut up, just as we always do when she says that. It is quiet enough to hear everyone breathing.

“Kids,” Millicent says, “get out of here. Go downstairs.”

“What are you going to do?” Jenna says.

“Go.”

“Dad doesn’t have a weapon,” Rory says.

Again, I raise my empty hands. “I don’t even have a phone.”

Rory and Jenna turn to their mother.

Millicent glares at me as she steps around them and raises her hand. She points the gun at me.

“Mom!” Jenna yells.

“Wait.” Rory jumps forward, placing himself between the gun and me. He throws off his sling and holds out both arms.

Millicent does not lower her hand. She raises the other one and holds the gun with both hands. The gun is pointed at our son.

“Get out of the way,” she says.

He shakes his head.

“Rory, you have to move,” I say.

“No. Put the gun down.”

Millicent takes a step forward. “Rory.”

“No.”

I can see the anger in her eyes, even on her face. It is turning an unnatural color of red.

“Rory,” she says. “Move.”

Her voice is a growl. I see Jenna jump a little.

Rory does not move. I hold my hand out, intending to grab his arm and pull him out of the way. Right then, Millicent shifts the gun and fires one shot. The bullet goes right into our bed.

Jenna screams.

Rory freezes.

Millicent takes a step toward him.

She has lost control. I can see it her pitch-black eyes. If she has to, she will shoot Rory.

She will shoot all of us.

I jump forward and knock Rory down, covering his body with mine. Just as we hit the ground, I see a blur of orange-and-white polka dots. And a glint of metal.