Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
THIRTY-NINE
JOLENE
I rush to the kitchen, snatching a paper towel from the roll then folding it over my fingers so I can remove the purse by its strap. The purse leaves behind dirt on some of the papers and the cellphone. I press a finger down on the phone and the screen glows. I run my tongue over my lips as I lift it and unlock the screen. The phone has no passcode.
I scroll through it but there aren’t any text messages or photos, however there are several recent calls made to one specific number. My hands shake as I press the number to call it. Each ring makes my heart race until, finally, someone answers.
“I told you not to call from this phone anymore.”
I gasp when I hear the gravelly voice on the other end but don’t say a word. I cup my mouth as the voice goes on. “Hurry the hell up. She’s already awake.” A stretch of silence. “Hello? Hello?”
I hang up, dropping the phone back into the shoe box as if it’s on fire. I know that voice. I know it very well. What is Dominic doing talking to him? I step away from the box, bile rising in my throat. This is worse than I thought and changes everything.
I rush around the counter, retrieving a cup of water from the cabinet and filling it with water. I guzzle it down, water dribbling from the corners of my mouth and onto my gray blouse. I swipe my mouth with the back of my hand then turn my eyes to the box again. There are more things inside it. Perhaps they’ll tell me what Dominic is up to and where he’s really going.
I pull out one of the papers from the box. On it are the words: I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. WHERE’S BRYNN?
I frown, taking out another sheet.
THROUGH THE WINDOWS I CAN SEE.
HOW YOU TREAT YOUR WIFE SO MISERABLY.
HOW CAN YOU BE SO CRUEL, MR. BAKER?
WHEN THE TRUTH COMES OUT, I’LL SAVE HER.
“What?” I whisper. Who are they talking about? Through the window? What window? My mind goes back to the night of that attempted break in at our house. Was it that night? Who is this? Why are they talking about me?
My hands won’t stop shaking as I lower the paper. I pause when I see the last one, but it’s not just a paper. It’s a photo flipped on its face. I turn it over and study it with shallow breaths. It’s an image of a woman—she’s beautiful with straightened hair and large brown eyes. She’s wearing red and is clearly holding the camera or phone as she takes a selfie with a smile. Behind her is my husband. He seems to be mid conversation with someone next to him, his head at an angle. I flip the photo over and the words SIN AFTER SIN. LOOK HOW DEEP YOU’RE IN are written in bold black ink.
I turn it over, study the photo again. All the notes are written in the same handwriting.
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. WHERE’S BRYNN?
WHEN THE TRUTH COMES OUT, I’LL SAVE HER.
SIN AFTER SIN . . .
This woman in the photo…she must be Brynn.
I stuff all the items back into the box and then shove it beneath the TV again. If Dominic had it there, he’s hiding it for a reason. And I don’t know who this Brynn woman is, or how she correlates with the letters, but I need to find out. I grab my purse and keys and hustle out of the apartment, locking it up behind me and rushing to the elevator as quickly as I can in my heels.
When I’m inside my car, my phone pings just as I start the engine.
I dig through my purse, tugging it out and checking the screen. There’s a message from someone on Instagram. Someone I’ve been waiting to hear from ever since I found out Dominic was sending them money from the share he sold. Blood wooshes in my ears as I click the notification and it opens the app. I read the message several times, then drop my forehead to the steering wheel to cry because this settles it once and for all. This is the ultimate betrayal and all these years, Dominic has hidden it from me.
When the tears stop, I swipe the pads of my fingers beneath my eyes, clean myself up, and drive home.
FORTY
DOMINIC
“It must be done. It must be done. It must be done.” Dominic has repeated the words to himself during the drive like a mantra. He can’t help feeling like his mother, who repeated certain sentences all the time when she was alive.
“They’re after me. They’re coming. They’re after me. They’re coming.”
Now he knows how she feels, to know someone is after you, coming for you. But he’s not like his mother. He won’t take the losing way out by killing himself. He’ll beat this and come out on the other side.