Do Not Disturb(72)
“Where’s Greta?” I say.
“She said she had to go. She ended up getting a flight late tonight and had to run, but she said to tell you that you’re going to be a wonderful mother.”
I’ll look up at him, my head throbbing. Another cramp seizes my lower abdomen. I’ve got to get to the hospital—he’s right. There’s no time to call the police now. And by the time I do, Greta will be out of the country.
She planned it this way. She knew that if she told me, I would feel compelled to report her. She didn’t tell me until the last second for that reason. But she wanted me to know. She wanted me to know that everything I have is because of her. She’s right—Nick very well might have left me for Christina. If she hadn’t done what she did, I wouldn’t have him anymore. I wouldn’t be on my way to the hospital, about to have my first child. I might not even be alive.
It was wrong that she murdered that woman. She should never have done it. But I can’t say I’m sorry. And at that moment, I decide.
If we have a girl, we will name her Greta.
THE END
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Acknowledgments
I have to be honest—I often don’t read the acknowledgments in books. Since I started writing, I have learned that I’m in the minority on this. A lot of people read the acknowledgments. In fact, I can think of at least three people who will buy a copy of this book, and go straight to the acknowledgments without reading even one other word first. (Hi, Dad!) So it’s a lot of pressure to make this entertaining in some way. Especially since I’m kind of just thanking the same people each time. Harper Lee only had to write like one acknowledgment every 60 years or so. I’m jealous of Harper Lee.
First, thank you to my mother and her amazing tendency toward hyperbole. (“This is the greatest book I’ve ever read! I can’t stop crying!”) Thank you to Kate, for the positive supportive feedback. Thanks to Rebecca, for your great advice (and good luck!). Thanks to Nelle, for your thorough and thoughtful advice (and also, did you know you have the same first name as Harper Lee?). Thanks to Rhona, for always being ready to look at another cover. Thanks to Mel, for not wanting to look at another cover but doing it anyway. Thanks to my amazing writing group.
And thank you to my husband. You may not read my books, but I’m glad you know the proper perspective for the words “Do Not Disturb” on a slightly oblique doorknob.
Did you enjoy reading Do Not Disturb?
If so, please send me an email at [email protected]. I would love to hear from you. Or consider leaving a review on Amazon!
Check out my website at: http://www.freidamcfadden.com/
Also, even though I have my books combed for typos multiple times by multiple people, there are some superhuman strains of mutant typos that always seem to survive. If you find any typos and point them out to me via email so I can fix them, I would eternal grateful.
(The above typo was supposed to be amusing.) Also, please enjoy a short excerpt of my new book, The Locked Door…
The Locked Door
Twenty-six years ago today, a man named Aaron Nierling was arrested in his home in Oregon.
Most people knew Nierling as an upstanding citizen. He held a steady job and was a dedicated husband and father—a family man. He had never even received a parking ticket in his lifetime. He had certainly never been in trouble with the law.
However, after an anonymous tip, the police discovered the remains of twenty-five-year-old Mandy Johansson behind the locked door of Aaron Nierling’s basement workshop.
Preserved bones from seventeen other victims who had been reported missing over the last decade were also found in a trunk in the basement. Over the course of the police investigation, Nierling was implicated in at least ten other murders going back over twenty years, but no forensic evidence was found to confirm this.
Nierling plea-bargained to escape the death penalty and is currently serving eighteen consecutive life sentences in a maximum-security penitentiary. His wife was also charged with accessory to murder, but she killed herself in prison, prior to standing trial.
News articles proclaimed Aaron Nierling to be a genius, who successfully evaded the police and the FBI for over two decades before his eventual capture. He is exceptionally charismatic and charming—at least, when he wants to be. He is a narcissist and a psychopath, who likely killed at least thirty women without a trace of remorse. He is insane. He is a monster.
He is also my father.
_____
Someone is watching me.
I can feel it. It doesn’t logically make sense that a person should be able to feel somebody’s gaze on the back of her head, but somehow I can right now. It’s a prickling sensation that starts in my scalp and crawls its way down to the base of my neck, then drips down my spine.
I came to this bar alone. I like to be alone—I always have. Whenever there’s been a choice, I have always picked my own company. Even when I go to a restaurant, even when I’m surrounded by the low buzz of other people talking amongst themselves, I prefer to sit by myself.
In front of me is my favorite drink—an Old Fashioned. On the nights I don’t feel like going straight home, I always come to Christopher’s. It’s dark and anonymous, with cigarette smoke ground into the bar countertops. It’s also usually fairly empty, and the bartenders aren’t too hard on the eyes. Sometimes I take a booth but tonight I sit at the bar, my eyes cast down at my drink, watching the single ice cube slowly disintegrate as that tingling in the back of my head intensifies.