Never Let You Go(79)

She reaches out and holds my hand. “Mom. I’m scared for you. I want to be with you.”

I think it over, imagine her pacing Jenny’s house, alone and worried about me. “Okay. But we’re just going back for the day, all right?”

She’s already picking up her laptop. “I’m going to tell Jared now.” Her Skype is ringing. He’ll be online soon. I stand up. “We’ll take the early ferry.”

“Sure.” She’s smiling, excited about going back. I stand at the door for a moment, watching her face brighten when Jared answers her call.

“Hi, babe,” he says. “Did you get my texts? You didn’t answer.”

“Sorry, I was talking to my mom.” She looks up at me, clearly wanting me to leave. I close her door, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don’t like the way he asked about his text messages, and how much it reminds me of my life with Andrew. It’s not the same, I remind myself. Sophie isn’t me, and Jared isn’t Andrew.



We take the first ferry over, both of us groggy and clutching at our coffees. Sophie’s cell vibrates with a new text every five minutes, and I pretend to read a book while remembering how simple things used to be when she was young and told me all her secrets, when I was her greatest confidante. Now she’s a mystery to me, and this relationship with Jared is uncharted territory.

Marcus is waiting on the front steps when we pull into the driveway, our car tires crunching on the snow. Most of it has been shoveled away. Piles of snow line either side, and he’s even scraped off the front steps. He waves and walks toward the car, opens my door.

I climb out. “Thanks for clearing the driveway.”

“I got here a little early.”

“You must have been a lot early.”

He shrugs. “I like the exercise.”

Sophie comes around to the front, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. “Hi, Marcus.”

“Sophie.” He gives her a quick hug and I can see her relax, her hands coming out of her pockets. I’m grateful he’s here today.

Angus jumps out of the car, runs to greet Marcus, then starts doing zoomies all over the yard, burying his nose in the snow and leaping into the air. Sophie laughs.

While she’s distracted by Angus, I glance around the yard, looking for boot tracks, but it’s snowed overnight and the ground is covered with a fresh layer.

As we move up the front steps, Marcus says, “I checked your outside tap and made sure it’s turned off. It’s been cold this week.”

I’d left the heat on low in the house, but I’m still hit with an icy draft when we walk inside, and a scent I can’t identify, something rotten. Marcus looks at me.

“You smell that?” he says

“I must have left garbage under the sink.” I flip open the panel for the alarm. Angus bounds into the foyer, finds one of his balls that has rolled into the corner, and wiggles around our legs, squeaking it madly. Sophie brushes past me and heads into the house.

The red light on the alarm isn’t blinking. I stop, my fingers over the keypad.

“Something’s wrong. The alarm is off.” Angus chases after Sophie, his toenails scrabbling on the floor. Seconds later I hear him barking. I spin around. I’ve never heard him bark like that—so deep and frantic it vibrates inside my own chest. Now Sophie is screaming.

I drop my purse and keys and sprint toward her voice, Marcus close behind. When we come around the corner, Sophie is backed against the wall, still screaming and gasping some words I can’t understand. Her face is a flash of panicky white in the dim hallway. Angus is yelping and circling something on the floor. The smell is worse. So much worse.

I flip on the switch beside me and the hall is bathed in light. It’s Andrew.





CHAPTER THIRTY


I recognize this room at the police station. The fake wood table, the pale green cement walls, the color of hospitals. Nothing good ever happens in rooms this color. This is where I sat with Corporal Parker and filled out the paperwork for the peace bond. It feels like months ago.

Sophie and Marcus are in other rooms, giving their statements. I hate that Sophie has to go through this alone, begged and argued with the police to let me stay with her, but they insisted they had to speak with us individually. I keep replaying the sound of her scream when she found Andrew, that terrible anguished look in her eyes. She hadn’t knelt down or touched him. She was frozen in the hallway, staring at his body with her hand pressed over her mouth. I wrapped my arms around her, held her close. I wished I could have stopped her from seeing him like that.

The congealed blood around his head had soaked into the oak hardwood and dried almost black in spots. One of his arms was outstretched as though he were reaching for something, his hand so white it looked like a leftover Halloween prop. His right leg was at an odd angle—was it broken? I wanted to walk over and pull it straight, but I just closed my eyes, held Sophie tighter.

Marcus called 911 and the police arrived in minutes. We waited outside, shivering in the cold, none of us talking. Marcus kept reaching out to touch my hand, or wrap his arm around Sophie’s shoulders. Angus sat beside her, making a soft whine.

On the way to the station Sophie stared out the window, her expression blank, her body shaking. She was in shock, cocooned from the horror for a little bit longer, I hope. I remember when my mother and father died, how everything felt distant and unreal, until it became very, very real. I have to get her home, have to be there for her when she breaks.