Never Let You Go(99)

Elizabeth Kathryn Sanders. Elizabeth Kathryn Sanders. Elizabeth Kathryn Sanders.

I shove the books back onto the shelf, trying to make sure they are all lined up again, lock the door, and run down the stairs. Before I do anything else, I check out the front window. Marcus’s boat is near the shoreline, his back toward the house. He’s still fishing.

In our room, I rummage through his suitcase, run my hands through his coat pockets, peer under the bed, and dig into the nightstand drawer. I don’t know what I’m searching for, but something deep inside is spurring me on. Look, just keep looking. My hands are moving fast, lifting, feeling. The floorboards are cold on my feet. I’ve let the fire go out, but I’m hot, sweaty. Angus is following me, nudging me with his nose, his tail wagging. He thinks this is a game.

I yank open the medicine cabinet, rifle through bottles of mouthwash, disposable razors, bottles of heartburn medicine, Tylenol, Advil, cold remedies. No prescription bottles.

His shaving kit is on the side of the counter. I look through his grooming tools, his electric razor. When I lift out his plastic soap holder, something inside makes a soft rattling sound. I fumble with the lid, my hands heavy as though they’re frozen. Finally I get it off.

I’m staring at a handful of white pills. I’ve seen these before. Ambien. The same pills someone gave Angus. I look down beside me where Angus is sitting. His tail thumps

I’m remembering how Marcus drove me home that time when my tire suddenly went flat, how he stood nearby when I turned off my alarm. I blamed Andrew for everything, for hurting Greg, for sneaking around in my house. Was it really Marcus? He said his ex-wife’s name was Kathryn. There never was a daughter. There never was a Katie.

Elizabeth was his wife.

The answer comes loud and clear and I realize that I already knew. As soon as I saw the books, I knew. That’s why I was looking for the pills. I slide to my knees, still holding the soap container. No. This is wrong. I’m jumping to conclusions. Andrew died in my house.

They’d ruled it an accident, but Corporal Parker had questions, so many questions, about me, Greg, and Chris. She said lots of people were angry with Andrew, but maybe she missed one. The most important one. I think back to what I know of Elizabeth Sanders. The newspapers had mentioned a husband but nothing else. The family had asked for privacy.

Each new thought hits harder. Marcus volunteered at my support group, he became my friend. Had he just been waiting for Andrew to get out of jail? He probably knew Andrew would come looking for me one day. And now he knows I drugged Andrew that night. I sat here and told him all about it, then we made love.

What kind of game is this? What does he want with me?

As soon as Sophie is back with the Cherokee we have to leave, but what do I say to Marcus? Do I confront him? No. We have to get to a safe place. I’ll have to come up with some sort of emergency that means we need to go back to town. Then I’ll call the police.

I stand up on shaky legs, carefully put the pills back into his shaving kit. I look at his razor. I need a weapon in case he tries to attack me. Maybe a knife.

I move cautiously out of the bedroom, peer into the living room. It’s empty, the fire is dying. I check the window again, keeping my body in the shadows, and grip the curtain tight when I see his boat tied up on the dock. I press closer to the window, check the beach, the path.

He’s not down at the lake anymore.





CHAPTER FORTY


Marcus is standing by the front door, unlacing his boots. I’m struck with an image of Andrew and how he’d loosen the top laces first on each boot, starting with the right. Then he’d straighten and use his left foot against his right heel, while bracing his hand on the wall. I never realized before that they move the same way. Marcus looks up at me with a smile.

“I was getting lonely out there.”

I smile, but my lips feel stiff, fake. He’s going to sense something is wrong if I don’t find some way to pretend everything is okay. I’ve done this before. I did this for years.

“Catch anything?”

“No luck today.”

“Want some coffee?”

“That’d be great.” As I pull down a mug from the cupboard, he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. His skin is cold against the flesh at my belly where my shirt has risen. When he brushes his lips across the nape of my neck, I almost can’t breathe. I concentrate on lifting the decanter.

“God, you’re freezing,” I say “Why don’t you have a hot bath?”

“Maybe.” He pulls away, takes the coffee. “Where’s Sophie?”

“She’s not back yet. I might take Angus for a walk and see if any of the neighbors are home. Someone might have a car I could borrow.”

“It’s a long way around the lake. Let’s just give it a little more time, okay? It’s getting stormy outside again. There’ll be branches falling from the trees. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Okay.” I hide my face behind my coffee mug. Who are you? What have you done? His handsome face is so familiar. I just kissed his lips hours ago, but now he’s a stranger. I want Sophie to come back soon so we can get out of here, but the other part of me wants her to stay where she’s safe. If Marcus realizes something’s wrong, I don’t know what he’s going to do.

He looks around. “Do I smell cleaner?”