Do You Remember(62)

I don’t know what to say. The answer is yes, and that isn’t the answer he wants to hear.

“You caught him with another woman.” A muscle twitches under his eye. “Your best friend. He betrayed you in the worst possible way, and I was there for you when you were heartbroken. He blew it, and he despised you for refusing to take him back. And then you got in this accident, and here I am, doing everything I can to take care of you. But Harry…” He sucks in a breath. “He saw what happened to you, and he figured this was an opportunity to mess with you. To make you hate me.”

I just stand there, staring at him.

“I am so sick of this bullshit,” he growls.

With those words, he storms off. It’s a relief that he’s gone, and I take the opportunity to dig around in the refrigerator for some food. I find a loaf of bread and some cold cuts, and I make myself a quick sandwich. And I grab one of the glasses above the sink and pour myself some water.

Ziggy is barking his head off outside the door—I can’t believe our neighbors don’t complain. I wish I could let him inside. I’d rather sleep with my dog than with my husband. But I can’t open the door anymore—I don’t have the key. I just have to try to ignore him, even though every bark is a jab at my heart.

I’m about five bites into my sandwich when Graham returns to the kitchen. But this time, he’s holding a sheet of paper and a pen. He slams the paper down in front of me.

“We are going to nip this in the bud,” he says. “Once and for all.”

I look down at the piece of blank paper. “I don’t understand.”

He holds out the pen to me. “It’s time for you to write another letter to yourself. We took it too easy on Harry in the last letter. You need to let yourself know what a bad guy he is, and that you need to stay far away from him from now on.”

I remember reading that letter first thing this morning. I found it comforting because it was in my own handwriting. I didn’t know who I could trust, but I knew I could trust myself.

Now I have a bad feeling about how the letter came about.

“I’m not doing it,” I say.

“Yes,” Graham says. “You are. It’s for your own good.”

Ziggy’s barking has gotten louder. I push the piece of paper away and take another bite of my sandwich. “Forget it. Maybe you can lock me in this house but you can’t make me write a letter to myself.”

“You really don’t believe me, do you?” He adjusts his spectacles on his nose. “You saw the police take Harry away. And you still trust him over me?”

I lift my chin. “Yes. I absolutely do.”

Two spots of pink appear on Graham’s cheeks. “Well, that’s too damn bad. You’re writing the letter, anyway.”

“No. I won’t.” I take a sip of water, peering at him over the rim of my glass. “You can’t make me.”

“Can’t I?” There’s something in Graham’s voice that makes me feel uneasy. “Because I think I can.”

I stare at Graham, my heart pounding. Ziggy sounds almost hysterical outside the door. Graham turns around, walks to the back door, and slams on it with the palm of his hand, loud enough to make me jump. “Shut the fuck up, you goddamn stupid dog!”

I cringe, but it works. Ziggy’s barks subside back to a whimper. Graham turns around and strides back over to me. “Here’s the thing, Tess. I have total control over every aspect of your life. If you don’t write the letter, first thing tomorrow, Ziggy and I are taking a little drive down to the local pound. The one where if you don’t get adopted in a week, then…”

The pieces of the sandwich in my stomach churn. I’m going to be sick. “You wouldn’t…”

“Oh, I definitely would.” He smiles at me. “And in the morning, you won’t even know Ziggy existed. Except he’ll remember you. He’ll remember you when he is in a cage, wondering where you are, why you let this happen to him. Maybe you’ll be his last thought when they give him the injection…”

I feel like I’m going to choke. I look into Graham’s eyes, and I realize he means it. He will absolutely do what he’s threatening.

“Fine,” I manage. “I’ll write the letter.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Now was that so hard?”

I glare at him.

He slides the paper toward me again. “I’ll make this easy for you, Tess. I’m going to tell you exactly what to say…”





Chapter 38


I don’t know where Graham ended up putting the letter I wrote.

I feel sick at the thought of the words I wrote in the letter. I said horrible things about Harry. In the morning, I’m going to read that letter and I’m going to believe Harry Finch is a terrible person.

But I have one safety net.

Graham confiscated my phone, but I’ve still got Harry’s number written on my thigh. In the morning, I’ll see it there. I’ll know he was trying to help me. And maybe I’ll be able to find him.

Unless he is still in jail.

I climb into bed at around ten o’clock. At first, I’m worried Graham is going to climb into bed next to me, but he doesn’t make any movement to take off his clothing. “I’ve still got work to do,” he tells me.